The Anonymous Bride (25 page)

She dropped to her knees behind Luke’s little house and out of view of anyone looking out her back door. Gazing up at the sky, she sought God for strength. “How do I do this, Lord? How do I help these women prepare to battle for the man I love?”

Only a few weeks had passed after Luke’s return before she realized the depths of her feelings for him. But what did that matter when he refused to forgive her? And enduring the ache of his rejection had opened her eyes to how he’d suffered. New tears spilled for the pain she’d caused him. If only she hadn’t trusted James. Hadn’t dawdled at the river when she’d learned Luke wasn’t coming. Hadn’t allowed herself to be alone with James that one time. She faced the truth: She didn’t deserve Luke. He was a good, honest man who’d loved her with his whole being—and she had betrayed that love.

She cried until her throat ached and her nose was stuffy. Using her apron for a handkerchief, she wiped her face and sat on the warm ground, empty and barren. “Help me, Father. Give me strength.”

She glanced up at the brilliant blue sky showing through the canopy of trees. The leaves swished in the light breeze, and the warmth of the sun dried her tears. “Show me what to do.
Please.
”

After a short time of sitting and praying, a calm spread through her limp limbs and peace again reigned in her heart. If she couldn’t have Luke, maybe she could help him find the best bride. She wouldn’t be vindictive or allow selfishness to keep her from helping them. She didn’t know which woman would be the best fit for Luke, not that it was her choice, but at least she could teach Miss O’Neil to bake a pie.

Standing, she dusted the back of her dress and wiped off her face again. As she ambled back to Hamilton House, her aunt’s letters came to mind. For years, her Aunt Millie, her mother’s sister, had tried to get Rachel to move to Kansas City to live with her. Rachel had never seriously considered the woman’s offer. Lookout had always been her home, and she had the boardinghouse to support her and Jacqueline. But if Luke married, she didn’t think her heart could take seeing him happily wed to another woman and raising children. Her lip wobbled, and fresh tears stung her aching eyes, but she batted them away. At the well, she drew up a fresh bucket of cool water and rinsed her face.

The mayor had offered to purchase Hamilton House several times since James’s death. Kansas City was a bigger city than Lookout and would most likely have a school that ran higher than eighth grade, giving more educational opportunities for Jacqueline and plenty of ways for Rachel to earn some income, should she need it after the sale of her home.

She heaved in a raggedy sigh. Maybe it was time to consider leaving Lookout.

***

Leah dipped her pen in the ink bottle, then blotted the point and continued her letter to Sue Anne:

I envy your being engaged to that rancher. I never thought when I traveled so far from home that I’d have to battle two other women for the marshal’s heart. Can you even imagine such a fiasco? Now there’s to be a contest to determine who will make the best bride for him. Whoever heard of such a thing? The first round is a pie-baking contest.

Leah grinned, thinking of the second place ribbon she’d won in last year’s county fair for her rhubarb pie. She’d been baking since she was a young girl and would surely win this round.

Have I told you how charming Luke Davis is? Oh my. So tall, and ever so handsome with his deep brown eyes and pecan-colored hair. He walks so straight and with such authority, although I do delight in seeing him flustered. With all the brides arriving to marry him, he’s been more frustrated than a man whose wife just birthed him his seventh daughter.

I intend to win. I have no other option. What is to become of me if I should fail? I can’t return home. Pa surely wouldn’t allow me to after I refused to marry Mr. Abernathy and ran off without so much as a good-bye.

Losing is not an alternative I can bear to think about. I simply must win.

How is Ma? The children?

Have you received any more letters from your Simon?

I want you to know that the money you gave me just before I left town was a lifesaver. You’ll remember how I didn’t want to accept it, but I’m thankful now that I did. I was able to pay room and board at the boardinghouse the first few days I was here. The
marshal has ordered his cousins to foot our bills until things are settled. I don’t like that, but there’s little I can do about the situation.

And thank your brother again for helping me with my trunk that night I snuck away and for driving me to Joplin. I couldn’t bear to leave it behind since Sam made it for me.

Leah finished the missive and sat back in her chair. She would mail the letter tomorrow morning, but tonight she had to decide which pie she would bake. It needed to be something that would please the marshal’s palate and stand out from the others. The contest was only two days away, and she could not fail.

She unfastened her high-topped shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, considering her competition. Miss O’Neil, looking shy and fearful all the time, surely wouldn’t turn the marshal’s head; but then again, who needed to cook and sew when she had such an intriguing accent and such luscious auburn hair and fair skin. Shannon really was a lovely girl.

Leah reclined on the comfortable bed. She loved the pretty room painted a pale blue, almost the color of Mrs. Hamilton’s eyes. Leah scowled at the memory of how the woman had looked at Luke with such longing in her gaze. She obviously knew the marshal well. But just what their relationship was, Leah wasn’t sure. It seemed much deeper than Mrs. Hamilton simply providing his meals. Why, she’d bet her grandmother’s cameo that they had an intertwining past of some sort.

Turning over, she stared out the window, watching the sunset. A bird chirped in a nearby tree, trying to outdo the crickets in the grass below. She should probably put on her nightgown. All the stress of the contest and being around the other brides daily wore on her. Made her tired, even though she’d done very little work that day. Who would have thought idleness could exhaust a person?

Maybe she should ask Mrs. Hamilton if there was some work she could do to pass the time. After working her fingers to the nubs at home, she had enjoyed having little to do, yet that was getting old. Maybe she didn’t mind working as long as she had a choice in the matter.

The sun sank below the horizon, painting the undersides of the clouds a breath-stealing pinkish purple. A brisk wind snapped the white curtains like flags. She actually liked the wide-openness of Texas. Something about the place pulled at her, made her never want to leave. But if she lost the bride contest, she’d have to seek employment somewhere or return home—and that was something she was unwilling to do.

Forcing herself up from the bed, she unfastened the buttons on her dress and let it drop to the floor. Miss Blackstone’s calculating stare entered her mind. The woman had a perpetual scowl and talked very little, yet she was quite pretty in an unfinished way. She tried to hide her roughness, but Leah saw right through her. If the lady could cook well, she would surely be her toughest competitor. Maybe it was time to look at her more closely.

CHAPTER 21

The night before the bride contest, Rachel sat in her bedroom, brushing her long hair for one hundred strokes. Jacqueline was in bed, but the girl fidgeted, unable to lie still. Something was bothering her, but she’d been tight-lipped and scarce the past few days.

Rachel reached out to set her brush on the vanity when a shrill scream broke the silence. Jacqueline bolted up in bed as Rachel vaulted to her feet. Their gazes locked. “Stay here.”

She grabbed the rifle that always sat behind the door and ran up the stairs. Miss O’Neil’s door opened, and bright light from her lantern flooded the hallway. Miss Bennett stood immobile at her door, her wide blue eyes gleaming in the light. Mr. Sanderson, a new guest in town with his wife for the contest, stood at the open door of the fourth bedroom, a pistol wobbling in his shaky hand. “What’s going on, Mrs. Hamilton?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I’ll find out.”

“Do you need my help?” The man lifted one brow.

Rachel glanced at Miss Blackstone’s door. “Perhaps you could stay in your room and watch—just in case?”

“This is highly irregular,” said Mrs. Sanderson. “Harvey, come back inside and shut the door. I’m sure Mrs. Hamilton can handle the disruption without your assistance.”

He harrumphed but didn’t close the door. He winked at Rachel and motioned her forward with his gun just as another squeal erupted from Miss Blackstone’s room.

Rachel hurried over and knocked on the door. “Is everything all right, Miss Blackstone?”

“N–no, there’s a snake in here.” At the other bride’s declaration, Miss O’Neil scurried back into her room and slammed the door.

Rachel opened Miss Blackstone’s door and peered around the room. How in the world could a snake have gotten up to the second story? A dim light from her lamp left the room in a contrast of light and shadows. Watching her step, Rachel crossed the room and turned up the flame. “Where did you last see it?”

The woman who’d always seemed tough as overworked dough huddled in a tight ball on her bed, arms locked around her legs. “U–under the d–dresser.”

“Do you know what kind of snake it is?”

Miss Blackstone shook her head; a thick curtain of black hair fell around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, and her lips pressed tightly together.

Rachel didn’t care for snakes, but she wasn’t frightened of them, except for the cottonmouths that sometimes frequented the river tributaries. Growing up in Texas and working in her ma’s garden, she’d seen her share of snakes. She lifted the lamp and stooped down. Sure enough, something was under the wooden chest of drawers. She used the muzzle of her rifle and flipped the intruder out onto the rug. Miss Blackstone screeched, making Rachel jump.

“It’s just a harmless garden snake.”

Miss Blackstone cowered on the bed. “I hate sn–snakes of all kinds. My brother used to torment me with them.”

“I’m truly sorry for your discomfort. I can’t imagine how it got up here unless it somehow crawled into my laundry basket while I was gathering things off the line.” She picked up the harmless foot-long snake by the tail.

Miss Blackstone squealed and dove under the covers. Rachel shook her head and left the room. “Please try to relax and get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day.” Juggling the rifle and snake in one arm, she closed the door.

Rachel glanced at the Sandersons’ door, and Mr. Sanderson lifted his brows. She held up the snake. “Nothing but a little intruder, sir. Nothing to be concerned with.”

He nodded and closed the door.

Miss Bennett leaned against the door frame of her room, her lip curling. “That’s what all the ruckus was about?”

Rachel battled her grin. “I can’t imagine how it got up here.” “I didn’t think Miss Blackstone was afraid of anything. I mean, she seems so tough.”

Rachel nodded. “I suppose there’s something that frightens each of us. Good night, Miss Bennett.”

As Rachel plodded down the stairs, she considered what frightened her most—Luke marrying another woman. She tossed the snake outside and closed the front door. Suddenly, she realized that her daughter hadn’t made an appearance upstairs, and that was highly uncharacteristic of her.

With suspicions mounting, Rachel hurried to their bedroom, but much to her relief, the girl was still in bed. Miracles happened after all.

***

Jack’s heart pounded like she’d run all the way to the river and back. She’d barely made it back into bed when her mother closed the front door. Did she suspect her of putting the snake in Miss Blackstone’s room?

Jack worked to slow her breathing, thinking of the open door to the pie safe. She’d hoped to stir something into the pies that would ruin them before they were cooked, but there’d been no opportunity. She might not get dessert for supper tomorrow if the mice invaded the pastries, but at least Luke couldn’t pick a bride if the pies weren’t edible. She grinned into her pillow, just imagining the howls of the brides when they saw their ruined entries.

A tiny measure of guilt wafted through her, but she shoved it away. Luke was worth fighting for, no matter the cost or how many years she’d be punished and sent to her room if her mother learned what she’d done.

She could hear her mother moving around the room, settling the rifle behind the door, and the click of the latch as the door closed. The double bed creaked and dipped on one side as her mother sat down. A sudden thought charged into Jack’s mind—if her mother married Luke, she would get a room of her own. She smiled and wondered which one she’d choose.

Her mother heaved a big sigh and relaxed against the pillow, sending the odor of lavender her way. “Don’t you want to know what happened? I know you’re not asleep. And thank you for obeying me and staying in the room.”

Jack cringed, knowing she’d done the opposite. Why did disobeying feel so awful?

Turning onto her side, she stared at her mother’s face, illuminated by the faint moonlight shining through the open window. “Do you know what folks are calling those brides?”

Her ma shook her head. “What’s that?”

“Boardinghouse brides.” Jack flopped onto her back and stared at the dark ceiling. “Are you gonna let Marshal Davis marry one of them without so much as a fight?”