Two Brides Too Many (32 page)

Every time someone walked into the small meeting room at the Elks Lodge, Morgan glanced at the door, expecting to see Kat.

“Relax, Doc. They’ll be here.” Judson stood at the piano while Morgan checked the order of his songs. “You know how long winded Miss Hattie can be.”

Morgan nodded. The woman’s affinity for gab was the reason he was here in the midst of all these women in the first place.

He hadn’t seen Kat since Sunday. Nearly three days—far too long. If he had his way, he’d see her every day—morning and night. He’d swing with her out on the porch every summer evening while they sipped lemonade. And they’d picnic every Saturday—inside or out.

“There they are.” Judson nudged him with his foot.

All three women—Hattie, Nell, and Kat—sauntered into the room, and Morgan stood. They all looked lovely, but it was Kat’s smile that sent pure bliss straight to his core. He and Judson met them at the front row, where they’d reserved five seats.

“Hello, Morgan.” Kat held a telegram out to him. “I received a telegram from
Harper’s Bazar.”

“You’re the new female western correspondent for the magazine, aren’t you?”

“I am.” She affected a mock swagger in her shoulders, her smile lighting the gold flecks in her deep brown eyes.

“I knew you could do it, and they’re smart editors to think so too. Congratulations!”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go, and he was still weighing the consequences of such a public action, when Hattie walked to the front of the room.

All in good time, Morgan. All in good time
.

For now, he escorted Kat to her chair while Judson did the same for Nell.

“Good morning, ladies.” Hattie glanced at the front row where Morgan and Judson sat. “And our esteemed gentlemen, of course.” She tittered and fiddled with her frilly collar before continuing. “Welcome to the May Wednesday luncheon of the Women for the Betterment of Cripple Creek. Most of you know Mr. Turner was scheduled to be our guest this month, but due to his mother’s illness, he had to postpone his presentation.” She motioned for Morgan to step forward, and he walked to the piano. “In Mr. Turner’s stead, the new doctor in town, Dr. Morgan Cutshaw, has agreed to give us a piano concert.”

The ladies were still clapping when Morgan struck the first chord of “Silver Threads Among the Gold.” After several more songs, he finished “Love’s Old Sweet Song” with Judson’s vocal accompaniment. The ladies continued to applaud long after he played the last note. When Judson returned to Nell’s side, Morgan looked out at Hattie.

“Before our intermission, I’d like to make an announcement, if you might indulge me.”

She waved a gloved hand. “You go right ahead, Dr. Cutshaw.”

He stood and cleared his throat. “Most of you know that I’m the new doctor in town. But you may not know that we have a distinguished writer in our midst.” Kat flushed, and the room buzzed. “Kat, would you please join me?” He didn’t have a plan for convincing her to come to the front of the room, and breathed a sigh of relief when she rose from her chair and walked toward him.

“Thank you.” Instead of looking at him, she seemed to stare at the back wall. “I think it’s important to celebrate new beginnings.” The dozen or so women clapped. “Miss Kat Sinclair was kind enough to
join me here today to support me, but now I want us to celebrate with Kat. She’s just received an appointment as a new Woman Writer Out West for
Harper’s Bazar.”

A wave of murmured approval swept through the room, followed by enthusiastic applause, and Hattie walked to the front of the room.

“Ladies, there’s more concert to come,” she said. “But first, we’ll adjourn to the dining room to enjoy the mountains of refreshments you all brought.” The gaggle of women hurried out of the room, chattering. Hattie waved a handkerchief at Morgan and Kat from the doorway, her smile warm and supportive. Judson and Nell remained in their chairs facing each other, engaged in a private conversation, which is what Morgan hoped he and Kat could do.

Morgan turned back toward Kat, who remained standing near the piano, her cheeks still pink.

“Thank you, Morgan.” She took a step away from him.

“Wait,” he said. “Would you mind remaining here…with me for a moment?”

Staying her steps, she looked up at him, her brows raised. “You wanted to speak to me about something else?”

Morgan bobbed his head, drawing in a deep breath. “I thought we could sort out your name issue.”

She tucked her chin and raised a slender brow. “My what?”

“Your pen name. What name will you use on your stories?”

“My name—Kat Sinclair. Why? Do you think Katherine would be better suited for a professional byline?”

He shook his head. “I rather like the name Kat. But I thought you might want to use three names.”

“Oh?”

“Many famous writers have three names. Gerard Manley Hopkins. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Henry David Thoreau. Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Robert Louis Stevenson.”

“All right, then.” She raised her chin, a smile in her eyes. “What do you say about the name Kat Joyce Sinclair?”

He shook his head again, trying to keep a straight face.

“That’s all I have.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I had something a little more poetic in mind.” He tipped his head left, then right, as if he were weighing the thought. “See what you think of this: Kat Sinclair Cutshaw.”

Her brown eyes pooled. She peeled off her gloves and stepped toward him. “It does have a writerly ring to it.”

“I think so, but using that name does require a big commitment.”

Her bottom lip quivering, she nodded. “I’m ready, Morgan.” She laced her fingers with his, and he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them, her skin as soft as buckskin. He wanted nothing more than to lean in toward her, but he knew that kiss would have to wait for a more private moment.

“I love you, Kat,” he said.

“And I love you, Morgan.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She squeezed his hand. “Yes. I will.”

Miss Hattie was the first to clap. Until then, Morgan hadn’t noticed that Nell and Judson were standing less than ten feet away from them. Smiling, they joined Hattie’s applause as the women began to pour into the room.

Morgan leaned toward Kat and whispered, “To be continued.” When she nodded, he led her back to her chair. The Women for the
Betterment of Cripple Creek cheered while the sisters hugged and he returned to the piano bench. “Ladies, I’d like to dedicate this next song to my fiancée, Miss Kat Sinclair.” He looked out at her, rewarded by a smile that most definitely reached her eyes.

As he played the first few notes of “Home, Sweet Home,” Morgan realized he’d finally let go of the past, and he was ready to embrace the new.

And as far as he was concerned, the sooner, the better.

F
ORTY
-T
WO

W
hen the first wave of sunlight splashed across the bed and warmed Kat’s face, her eyes popped open and she sat straight up. This was no ordinary day, and she still couldn’t believe it.

“Oh no! Am I late?” Nell scrambled out of bed, her eyes half shut.

“No, the day just dawned.” Kat tugged Nell’s dressing gown, pulling her down to sit beside her on the bed.

“That’s good news. I dreamed I slept the whole day long, and by the time I got to the altar, Judson had fallen asleep, and Reverend Taggart and everyone else had left.”

“That’s not as peculiar as the dream I’ve been having.”

“Oh?” Nell tilted her head, her eyes wide.

“I dreamed I was getting married today too.”

Giggling, Nell lightly pinched Kat’s arm. “You’re wide awake.”

Kat nodded. “Actually, I feel more awake than I have in many months.” Morgan’s love and support had stirred her heart to love him
when she thought it impossible to trust again. “I’m getting married today!” Kat squealed.

Nell sauntered over to the two white dresses that hung in the corner and pulled hers down. Holding it up in front of her, she spun around in slow motion. “Mrs. Judson Archer.”

Nodding, Kat pulled hers down—Hattie’s two-piece dress in silk mull—and did her own spin. “Kat Sinclair Cutshaw. Mrs. Morgan Cutshaw.”

She hadn’t imagined that Morgan would be able to top Judson’s romantic proposal to Nell in Hattie’s parlor, but he had indeed surpassed it. In a few heady moments, Kat had gone from wanting to strangle the man to a deep-seated desire to plant her lips on his and never remove them.

Their daily routine soon gave way to a flurry of activity. While Nell packed her things into her trunk, Kat stripped the bed. Construction would soon begin on Morgan’s two-story house—their house—but she and Morgan would live here until its completion. She looked around the single-room dwelling. It would be Morgan sitting at the table for breakfast tomorrow. Morgan would shave at the washbowl and stoke the fire. He had already replaced the rope bed with a more comfortable one. The thought of being so near to him quickened her heart, and she suddenly found herself thankful for the cabin’s coziness.

Less than an hour later, Hattie arrived at the cabin and turned the kitchen table into a hair salon. Moving from one head of hair to the other and back again, she hummed as she worked. When Hattie twisted and pinned Nell’s hair, she hummed “Love’s Old Sweet Song.” For Kat, it was “Home, Sweet Home.”

The Lord had accomplished more in their hearts in a month than Kat would’ve dreamed possible in a lifetime.

With everything else ready, Kat and Hattie helped Nell into her gown and shoes. Then it was her turn. When all the lacing and buttoning was done, she and her sister were both dressed and on their way to each other’s weddings. Boney Hughes drove the carriage. Hattie sat beside him. Kat rode in the back with Nell.

Boney reined the horses down the hill toward Bennett, then spent a few moments twisting and preening his groomed beard. “Right pretty day for a wedding, don’t you think?”

“The best. Especially splendid for a ceremony that’s taking place in God’s great outdoor cathedral on Tenderfoot Hill.”

Boney Hughes parked the carriage at the end of a ribbon of muslin cloth laid down as a path on the hilltop. And as soon as he did, two miners dressed in clean overalls stepped up, ready to help them down. Kat recognized them both from her shotgun-wielding day. The unlikely men-in-waiting assisted Nell first and then gave Kat a hand down from the carriage.

“You might remember my two boys, Billy and Bobby, from the other day. They’re a couple of your neighbors,” Boney said.

“Your sons?” Kat shook her head.

“Yes ma’am. Two of the finest.” Boney helped Hattie down from the carriage and escorted her up the path.

But it was the two men who stood slack-jawed at the far end of the fabric path that caused her and Nell to gasp. Both of their grooms stood stick-straight and proud, looking every bit like princes. But it was the tender love in Morgan’s dew-kissed green eyes that quickened Kat’s feet.

Even Cinderella would be jealous.

Holding her beloved’s hand, Kat took in the panoramic view in front of her. God’s handiwork on Tenderfoot Hill stirred Kat’s heart to even deeper praise. Her heart overflowed with uncontainable joy and immeasurable thanksgiving as she looked into Morgan’s eyes.

After they exchanged their vows, Judson immediately dipped Nell into a long passionate kiss. Morgan pulled Kat into his arms and gave her a kiss that would melt Cinderella’s glass slippers. Then he whispered in her ear, “You, Mrs. Cutshaw, are in for an epic adventure.”

He winked. Kat had already seen the amazing things God had done on her adventure so far, and she could hardly wait for the next chapter.

A
UTHOR
’
S
N
OTE

The joy of reading and writing historical fiction involves more than merely being drawn into the characters and their stories, but also vicariously experiencing history in a compelling setting. While researching
Two Brides Too Many
in Cripple Creek, Colorado, I made several interesting historical discoveries.