A Fella for Frances

by Donna K. Weaver

  “Besides,” Maude said, “the bride should be the one who stands out.”

  “Rightly so.” Frances shot her oldest sister a grateful look.

  “That should be fine,” Judith said, her expression relieved.

  Frances really didn’t give the woman enough credit and shouldn’t keep judging her. She’d proven she was more than she’d seemed. Well, she had to be more than a pretty face, or Luke wouldn’t have fallen for her so thoroughly. Frances needed to pay better attention, like Sherlock Holmes did. It’d been a surprise when she’d first cottoned that her brother was sweet on Judith. It shouldn’t have been.

  As the ladies moved on to discussing other aspects of the wedding, Frances gave her full attention to the group. Not so much what they were talking about, but the women themselves. What would Holmes notice?

  Maude and Doris seemed to be getting so much pleasure out of helping to plan their brother’s wedding, perhaps because their own had been so rushed. Because of Uncle William, her two older sisters had been forced to have quick weddings. They’d missed out on having new gowns and trousseaus, something they’d both talked and planned for since they’d been girls. Maude and Charles hadn’t even had their wedding trip yet but were planning to go to San Francisco to see his old friend in April, before her pregnancy made travel difficult.

  “Well, I believe that should about do it,” Edith Vosburg said, rising. “It’s lucky your grandmother’s husband is willing to make the trip from England and can afford it, but it’d sure be a much simpler wedding to put on without such an important man in attendance.”

  Judith bristled which Frances also found curious. Luke had said once that Judith wasn’t all that impressed by the man’s title either. So, was she just defensive of her family in general? It must have something to do with the family scandal back in New York no one would talk about. Not even Edgar, and he’d talk about anything.

  Shooting Judith a nervous glance, Mrs. Phelps, the mayor’s wife, asked, “When do you plan to stop teaching, Doris?”

  “I’ve been hoping to see the school year through. That will give the board time to advertise for a new teacher for the fall.”

  “At the rate you all are breeding, we might need a bigger school in a few years.” Frances glanced at her sisters who were both increasing now. Four more of the recently married women had announced they were also expecting. Two of them had been mail-order brides.

  “Breeding, indeed.” Judith sniffed. “Must you be vulgar? Women are not animals.”

  “Sure, we are. We’re not vegetables or minerals.” Frances grinned. “That leaves animals.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Maude said, looking at Frances. “Luke wants you to play for the wedding.”

  A myriad of emotions flooded through Frances, and she found it necessary to glance away. A year ago, her music had been the single most important thing in her life, aside from her family. When she’d grown to look so much like their mother, Father hadn’t been able to look at her. Frances had found solace in the piano.

  Fleeing from Indianapolis had meant leaving her music behind. She’d thought it gone forever, but then Luke had bought her a used Steinway for Christmas. Thinking about it, her fingers fairly itched with the desire to get home and play it again.

  Luke wanted her to play for his wedding. It meant more to her than she’d let anyone know.

  “Sure.” Frances did her best to give a nonchalant shrug. “Are you looking at Mendelssohn or Wagner? Or would you like something more modern?” She expected her future sister-in-law to choose something traditional.

  “You’re the one who must play it, and you have the musical training.” Judith spoke the words slowly, as though she were choosing her words carefully. “Could you suggest something different and yet elegant?”

  “I think I could do justice to Prince of Denmark’s March on the church organ, especially if we could get Edith here to play her violin.” Frances grinned. “Though, I don’t know how your English nobleman step-grandfather-in-law would take to that.”

  The corners of Judith’s mouth twitched. So, she did have a sense of humor.

  “Yes, Edith should play the violin,” Doris said.

  “Why didn’t you perform at the Christmas Fair last month?” Maude asked.

  “Because Abe only got me a new one for my birthday last fall.” Edith sank back into her chair, her cheeks flushing. “I hadn’t played it in years. I’m self-taught, and the cowhands are used to fiddling rather than classical music.”

  “All the more reason we should expose them to how the instrument was meant to be played.” Judith shifted her gaze back to Frances and asked, “Would you suggest anything else?”

  “I suppose it depends on what kind of entrance you want to make as you walk down the aisle. There’s Mouret’s Rondeau.” Frances stared at her sister-in-law, considering everything the woman had been through in the last year. “Have you ever heard of Dance of the Blessed Spirits by Christoph Willibald Gluck?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Do you mind?” Frances didn’t wait for an answer but rose and went to the upright piano in the corner. She began to play and said, “Now imagine some strings doing a descant.”

  She closed her eyes and lost herself in the song. Back in Indianapolis, when they were younger, her sisters would tease her that she knew songs so well she could play them blindfolded. Never one to pass up a challenge, she’d tried playing without looking at the keys—and discovered a new way to experience the music.

  When Frances finished the song, she opened her eyes and found Judith standing near the piano, her eyes glistening.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, looking at Frances then, as though seeing her for the first time. “You have a rare gift. Have you not considered seeking further training?”

  An image of her father handing Frances the letter flashed through her mind again, followed by his collapse. She would never be able to think of studying music without remembering the pain of that loss. Her throat tightened so she couldn’t speak, and her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed in front of the others. She shook her head and strode to the window.

  “I don’t understand,” Judith said.

  “Our father’s last gift to her, the night he died,” Maude said quietly, “was the acceptance letter to a new school of music.”

  “Then she must attend the school,” Judith cried. “Such a talent, especially in a woman, must not be wasted.”

  Frances turned around to face them. “You know as well as anyone that our uncle controls our inheritances, and we haven’t seen a dime. Am I supposed to beg the money from Luke, who’s already done so much for us by taking us in?” When some of the ladies started to argue, Frances held up her hand. “That life is over. Besides, I can vote in Wyoming, when I’m twenty-one. I can’t do that in New York or Indiana. I’ll never go back to either of those places to live. Now you know what processional you want, you should consider your prelude music.”

  Nick hammered in another nail on the corral fence. It’d frozen hard the night before, and the air was beginning to feel like snow again. All the muddy footprints were now hard ridges which made walking treacherous. He’d thought he wouldn’t miss the freezing cold, but he decided the mud was worse. If Luke hadn’t assured him spring weather wasn’t usually bad, Nick might have been tempted to go back home to Texas.

  Well, that and Frances being here.

  “Hey, Reynolds, I did it,” Andy Pulsifer, one of the other hands at the Lucky L said, maneuvering his way around the frozen ruts.

  “Did what?” Nick asked.

  “Weren’t you listening last night?” The tall, skinny man grinned. “All these plans for Mr. Hamblin’s wedding got some of us older men talking. The parson pulled me aside at church on Sunday and asked why I hadn’t settled down yet. Then, when I went into town today to pick up the mail, I saw that Mrs. Champion heading to the train station to pick up some of them mail-order brides of hers. I made the decisi
on right then and ordered one for myself.”

  The corner of Nick’s eye twitched. It was a good thing Frances wasn’t there.

  “What?” Pulsifer asked, looking defensive.

  “Well, I ain’t about to tell a man how to find himself a wife. A couple of men back home got mail-order brides.” Nick picked up another board and held it out to see how badly it was warped.

  “And?”

  “Well, one got on right fine with the woman, and they have a passel of kids now. She’s a hard worker and doesn’t mind living out in the middle of nowhere. The other fella wasn’t so lucky. His wife come from a bigger city. He was able to give her a better living than what she’d had back there, but she couldn’t take the loneliness. After their second baby was born, her melancholy got so bad she just took off one day. Left him with those two little kids to raise on his own.” Nick shrugged. “All I can say is you should try to get to know the lady before she comes out here. Lilac City’s growing, and there’s lots more people. Maybe the right woman is on her way here this very moment, unbeknownst to you. Something else to think about, where are you going to live? In town or were you wanting to buy some land?”

  Pulsifer rubbed his neck. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Well, you’d best start thinking ahead. I’ve heard a lot of men say women are only interested in how much money a man makes. For most of the women I know, including my Ma, two sisters, and two sisters-in-law, it ain’t the money they care about so much as what the money can buy—security. When you get married, you’ll eventually have kids too. Are you going to be able to put a roof over their heads, provide food for their bellies, and clothes on their backs?”

  Nick blinked, his arm holding the hammer frozen above him. If Frances were to tell him today she’d marry him, he was in no better a position to support a wife and family than poor Pulsifer was.

  “Did you just realize you’re no better prepared to be a family man than I am?” Pulsifer chuckled. “But I understand what you’re saying. I need to get busy.”

  “You’ll be writing to the lady, right? It wouldn’t hurt to ask her what kinds of things she likes,” Nick called, as the other man began making his way around the frozen ruts. “If she wants to live in town, there’s no point in buying land.”

  Pulsifer just waved his arm without looking back.

  As Nick hammered in the last post, he mentally reviewed his savings. He’d already made the decision he’d only marry Frances. He knew she meant to make her home in Wyoming, so that’s what he would do. He liked working with her brother Luke and had often wondered if the man would be interested in taking on a partner. The influx of cash would let him buy even more land and add to the buildings to host more guests. It would give Nick a legitimate reason to stay at the Lucky L and not branch off on his own. He’d be in Texas next week for his little sister’s wedding. It was time to talk to his father about the inheritance.

  Nick’s thoughts went back to the meeting where that slick attorney Edgar Lowell had managed to soften the way Frances had looked at him. Those two together reminded Nick of vinegar and baking soda, but some people enjoyed explosive relationships. She was so contrary sometimes. Was she one of them?

  The thought made the muscles in Nick’s stomach tighten. He’d only be gone ten days. The man had better not manage to woo her in that time.

  4

  “Yes. Yes, Miss Frances, spin in circle,” Mr. Ito said in his Japanese accent. “Now take hand.”

  She concentrated on using the little finger of her right hand as a focal point and took hold of his which still grasped her wrist.

  “Free hand,” he said.

  Now in control of his hand, she forced hers loose from his hold. While turning his in what she knew from experience was a painful position, she used her now-free hand to grab his forearm. She grinned to herself, thinking back on the short self-defense lesson Charles had given her and Doris on their train ride to Lilac City last spring. Frances was pretty sure she could take him now.

  “Opposing,” Mr. Ito reminded her.

  Frances used her holds to twist his hand and arm like a wet dishrag. He grimaced but didn’t tap his leg to signal she should release him.

  “Down,” he grunted.

  She continued the twisting pressure on his wrist and moved one leg in front of him. Quickly, she shifted her left arm to his shoulder and forced him to bend over. When she moved her hand back to his forearm again and gave it another twist, he shifted his back foot and tapped the ground. Frances released him immediately. They both straightened, faced each other, and bowed.

  “I say before,” Mr. Ito said, rubbing his arm, “you strong for female gaijin.”

  “I can’t be a foreign devil,” she said with a grimace at the term. “This is my country.”

  “Tell that to Shoshone,” he said, sagely. “Again?”

  Frances was about to agree when she caught a glimpse of Edgar Lowell leaving the telegraph office. He appeared to be putting something in his pocket. Had he gotten a response from her uncle?

  “I see someone I need to talk to. Thank you, sensei.” They bowed again, and she grabbed her coat and hat.

  “Lowell,” she called, as she hurried out the door, still buttoning her coat.

  He turned around. As he recognized the building she was leaving, he arched a brow.

  “Isn’t threatening a man with a gun enough for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

  “Very funny.”

  A flash of memory from the night those men had kidnapped her and her sisters on orders from her uncle, made Frances’s stomach muscles tighten. She’d vowed then she’d never be powerless again. Charles had taught them a few things, but she’d been determined to know more. That was the reason she’d sought out Mr. Ito for lessons.

  “Have you heard anything from my uncle?”

  Edgar’s response was to pull a piece of paper from his inside pocket.

  “Did he tell you to woo me now?” Frances held out her hand for the telegram, narrowing her eyes in as threatening a manner as she could.

  Edgar laughed and shook his head, putting the paper back in his pocket. She heaved out a martyred sigh. The man was getting too familiar with her attempts to intimidate him and was having nothing of it. She might actually have to shoot him to make a point. When her brother’s cowhands had gotten it in their minds they could bully her, they’d been in for a big surprise when she’d used some of Mr. Ito’s techniques on them.

  She wondered if Edgar would have dared laugh had Nick been with her. Not that she needed a man beside her to intimidate another man. It was only Nick’s quiet way which seemed to give credence to her threats. Texas seemed so far away, and she’d found she missed him a lot more than she’d expected to—and she’d expected to miss him. It was the first time, since she and her sisters had come to Lilac City, she hadn’t seen him at least once a day. Hadn’t spent most of every day with him.

  She wouldn’t think about it.

  “Well, did my uncle give you new instructions about me?” Frances demanded.

  “It’s too cold to talk about it outside.” Edgar took her elbow and turned her toward the hotel. “Let me buy you a coffee or some hot chocolate, and we can discuss how to handle his most recent demand.”

  Frances went along because she wanted to see what the telegram said, and she knew he wouldn’t show it to her otherwise. When they were seated at a table in the corner of the hotel dining room, and he’d placed their orders, she held out her hand. Edgar gave her the telegram.

  You are a failure. Bring Frances to me before April 1 or face the consequences.

  “I wonder what the significance is of the date.” Frances handed back the paper to Edgar. “Is it the first time he’s given you one?”

  “It is.” He took a sip of his coffee, his expression thoughtful. “How do you wish to go about playing his game?”

  “It’d serve him right if I were to marry you and then show up in Indianapolis to claim my inheritance.”r />
  Edgar must have swallowed wrong, because he choked and started coughing.

  “I thought you were never going to marry,” he said in a raspy voice, once he was able to speak.

  “I’m not, but I hate the idea of having to wait six years before I can get my inheritance. The only way around it is to get married.” She made a face.

  “Oh, Frances, and I thought it was only men who dreaded the marital state.”

  “Leave it to a man to think he’s doing a woman a favor by marrying her.” Though, if she were honest with herself, her sisters had happily gone into marriage. As had their husbands. And now Luke and Judith were doing the same thing. Not a one of them had been forced either.

  “Men are doing women a service when they marry them. A man gives up a great deal, when he puts on the noose.”

  “Noose? Really? Men give up a lot? For a lawyer, you’re pretty stupid. You know the law. Women give up everything. Suddenly the fortune that was a woman’s and any property she owned belongs to her husband, and he can do anything he wants with it without even asking her opinion. It’s wrong.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about, that you’ll marry, and your husband will misuse your inheritance?”

  As she often did, Frances watched him, trying to assess what he was really about. Edgar was a confusing man to her. He tended to wear a public face that was playful and lighthearted, a flirt. There were other times she thought she saw something in his expression that ran much deeper. She wished she understood what drove him because he was different from any man she’d known.

  “Wouldn’t you be worried if you got married and your wife had complete control over your life?” Frances asked. “That the simple act of saying ‘I do’ made you little more than a slave to your marriage partner?”

  “A slave?” He frowned. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  “Said by a man who loses nothing in marriage.”

  “Freedom—”