by Gray Gardner
The wooden seats of the train car creaked as everyone straightened their backs and shoulders and faced forward. Mr. and Mrs. Zachary stood in the aisle just as the locomotive whistled. They paused in front of Rose and Holly, seated in the back row, and smiled kindly as they waited. Rose took the hint and quickly stood, shuffling to the front to find another seat.
“Ms. Holly Eve.” Mrs. Zachary grinned, sitting down and taking her small hand. She turned and winked at her husband. “A little talk, woman to woman, dear.”
Mr. Zachary chuckled and checked his pocket watch. “I’ll leave you to it. Not much time left now.”
Holly looked curiously over at Mrs. Zachary who, for the first time since meeting her a few months earlier, seemed nervous.
“Ms. Eve, something seems to have, er, come up.”
Holly tried to control her emotions, especially in the presence of the woman who had so patiently taught her how, but she felt her face fall, as tears welled up in her eyes. “He doesn’t want me anymore. Does he?”
“Oh, oh no, darling, no, nothing like that, sweetheart.” Mrs. Zachary placed a hand on her shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze. “Please. You are lovely, smart, and between us you are the one of the most suitable companions I’ve ever matched. Your match isn’t the problem.”
Holly frowned as Mrs. Zachary’s eyes crinkled around the edges as they did when she looked worried or concerned. Then she took a breath and continued.
“Our situation involves our next stop. You see, my darling, I’ve been tasked with matching a companion to a Colorado rancher, who, for some reason, sends back his prospective brides.” She seemed scandalized and horrified and Holly tried to nod and appear just as troubled as her mentor. “He meets them at the depot and sends them back on the train’s return trip. So, this time I promised, I promised him a perfect match.”
Holly waited, her eyes darting to the front of the passenger car where she knew a woman named Darla was scheduled to be off at the next stop.
“Darla has her… monthly visitor, which, as I’m sure you understand, will not make for a pleasant honeymoon tonight.” Mrs. Zachary waited and finally just revealed what she was getting at. “You see, your stop is the last, in San Francisco, in six days. And I know we matched you with your handsome companion based on height, and aesthetically his ginger features and short stature would complement yours so well. Both so small, so fair, so lovely.”
Holly had dreamed about him after learning they were paired. He was an accountant for a timber company and lived in a brownstone on a hilltop, right by the ocean. She’d dreamed of their children, of growing old together, and even of getting a boat. He’d written her poetry about how deep their love would be, how he already felt he was falling for her.
“Mr. Frye is my textbook counterpart. I already feel so much for him.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Zachary interrupted, patting Holly’s hand. “What I’m saying, darling, is that Mr. Zachary and I have decided, just this once, to interchange your match with Darla’s.”
“What?” Holly squealed, ducking down in her seat as lavender bonnets turned to look back at her. She felt the color leave her face as she looked over at the older woman. To her credit, she looked just as devastated as Holly felt.
“There truly is no other solution.”
“So, you’re swapping my ideal companion with Darla’s match?” She looked forward at the tallest head in the train car. If Holly was sweet, fair, and petite, Darla was a broad, strong, giant of a woman, way better suited for the open range that was flying by out of their windows.
Mrs. Zachary nodded. “Yes, well, while physically you are polar opposites, you and Darla have a lot in common when it comes to spirit.”
“Spirit?” Holly had heard that word before, mostly about reining it in during school.
“The companion in question seems to reject all of the docile, subservient women I pair with him. You and Darla have been with me the longest. Some women blow through my academy and are sent out west with a match almost instantly. You can admit that you saw that during your stay with me.”
Holly pressed her lips together in affirmation. Yes, she’d received extra attention and had seen over forty women come and go during her stay.
“You are a lovely young woman. And I’ve told you before, you’re too smart for your own good.” She smiled and squeezed Holly’s hand. “You’re confident, feminine. I have the feeling it will be more appealing to Mr. Browning than the majority of my pupils who exhibit the demure qualities Zachary advertises.”
It felt like an underhanded insult, but Mrs. Zachary seemed so sincere that she believed her. But what about Jerome Frye of San Francisco?
“Mr. Frye is expecting me. We’ve written, we-”
“He will understand that issues arise. Some things we can’t control. Now. All that’s left is for you to accept. And, hopefully, you will meet Mr. Browning at the next station and he will not turn you away as he did the last three.”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Zachary.”
“Holly?”
Darla appeared in the aisle next to them, a wet handkerchief in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. Holly quickly reached over and took her gray gloved hand.
“I don’t see why you can’t just explain it’s your monthly. Surely, he understands the mechanics of it. Right? It just feels like he’s expecting someone who looks like you and will be disappointed when he finds someone like me standing on the platform at the depot.”
Mrs. Zachary and Darla both shook their heads and disagreed.
“You see, dear, the contracts these men sign, and then subsequently you sign, indicate that to prevent, er, buyer’s remorse, for lack of a better term, the marriage must be consummated on the day of the wedding.”
Darla nodded. “I was just told that, too. I’m so sorry, Holly.”
Holly felt confused as she looked over at the two women. Mrs. Zachary took a breath and leaned in patiently. “Consummate is a more delicate way of saying intercourse.”
Mrs. Zachary had whispered the word, but Holly felt her cheeks flush as she sucked in a breath. These companions that were supposed to be their perfect matches were expecting intercourse within hours of meeting?
“Don’t look so scandalized,” the older woman whispered. “You’re all widows from the war. These men are well aware and accept that they aren’t marrying little pure virgins. That’s why I don’t allow you ladies to wear white.”
“Again, I’m so sorry, Holly.” Darla nodded and turned back for her seat, sniffling.
“I’ve checked all of these bachelors again and again, Holly. Especially Mr. Browning. You have nothing to fear. Do you understand that I wouldn’t put you in danger?”
She looked over at the concern in her mentor’s eyes. Danger wasn’t her biggest worry. “I’m not afraid it’s dangerous. It’s… not living up to his expectations.”
“Between us,” Mrs. Zachary whispered, leaning in, “you’re the best companion who has come through my academy in years. Now, chin up. Gloves on. Bonnet tight. Reveal nothing. Your stop is next.”
Silver Creek City, Colorado, 1870
Holly spotted him before the train even rolled to a complete stop. People bustled around on the covered platform of the train depot, skirts swishing, children running, trunks dropping. Not him. He stood perfectly still in the afternoon sun off to the side, arms crossed over a dark plaid shirt, tall, broad-shouldered, with his hat pulled low over his eyes, casting a shadow so she couldn’t see his face.
No.
Mr. Zachary had to pull her out by both arms as she dug her heels in. Mrs. Zachary furiously straightened her bonnet out and smoothed her dress and capelet all the while smiling over her shoulder at the large man and frowning down at her. Holly scowled when she saw the side of his mouth tick up in a grin.
“Pryce Browning, may we present, from Zachary Companions of the West, our own Ms. Holly Eve.” Mr. Zachary peered down at her and cleared his throat, waiting for her to curtsey
.
Instead, she took the opportunity to turn on her heel and walk back to the passenger car at the rear of the train. She looked up and saw all the wide-eyed, lavender bonnet ladies, then felt two hands grab her shoulders and spin her around. Mr. Zachary half pushed, half carried her back to the waiting Mrs. Zachary and Mr. Browning.
“The lady is reluctant?” His voice was rich and deep with an air of intelligence, like how she imagined the President of the United States would sound. He continued. “I can see why. We’re not matched. I’m supposed to be engaging Darla.” Before the Zacharys could speak, he pulled out a little leather pouch and unfolded a piece of paper. “Strong, wise, able to endure the rigors of ranch life.” He tucked the paper and pouch away as he peered down at Holly. “She looks like she’d blow over in a strong wind.”
“Mr. Browning, Darla has fallen ill…”
“I beg your pardon?” Holly spoke over Mr. Zachary, squaring her shoulders up to the tall rancher. “Darla’s great, but she’s never done more than look at a horse.”
“Have you?” Mr. Browning asked, tipping his hat back and revealing sun-tanned skin and light blue eyes.
Holly lifted her chin, surprised at his handsomeness, and folded her arms over her chest, matching his stance. “Helped break’em in for the war. Have you ever broken a horse in? It’s not for amateurs.”
He stared down at her and tilted his head. “Sure. Plenty. Have you ever birthed a calf?”
“Hundreds. Ever delivered a breach birth?”
“Course, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.” He looked her up and down, a hint of admiration on his face, and then continued. “So, you’re a farm girl, then?”
“I’m a ranch girl,” she snapped, stepping forward. “The only thing we grew was beef. Until the war, anyway.”
“Then you lost your husband?” he inquired, watching her reaction.
She stepped back and looked down at the planks on the elevated platform, feeling her cheeks flush as she nodded. Instead of saying something cruel or continuing with their Who’s Tougher contest, Mr. Browning surprised everyone.
“I’d like to marry her in a church, not out here at the train station.” He looked over at the surprised faces of the Zacharys and waited. He looked like he wasn’t used to waiting.
“Oh, well, Mr. Browning, we’re scheduled to leave on this train for the next town and our next companion’s meeting. We can’t stay and chaperone…”
“I have my monthly visitor!” Holly shouted in a panic, taking another step back towards the train. This was all happening so fast and not even slightly in the way she’d thought. “So, sorry, no honeymoon or con-sulmating the marriage; so, you’d be better off just waiting for the next round of girls, so sorry, M-Mr. Browning. Can’t, can’t control nature.”
Mrs. Zachary looked horrified, as Mr. Zachary bumbled out a few indistinguishable words. Holly caught Pryce Browning smiling and even heard him let out a hearty laugh, as she turned and made for the dark train, the whistle blowing. If she could get on and the train started moving, there was really nothing anyone could do, right?
Pryce Browning felt like a masochist. Surely, he wouldn’t put himself through all of this again. But he did because he wasn’t really a masochist at all. He was an optimist. Zachary Companions of the West had provided a fine list of women who would make any man happy.
Not him. All three prospective wives had arrived on what everyone called the Bridal Express in those lavender dresses looking prim, proper, and completely wrong. He’d promised his parents when they were dying that he’d get married and have children and be happy, but how could those mail order brides who looked helpless and meek bring him any kind of happiness?
The women in any of the nearest towns were either prostitutes or already married. And the Zacharys had promised to provide Pryce with a, well, companion. He’d sent each deferential waif back every time, the marriage annulled. Until they’d sent him the dossier on Darla. She looked like a real woman, someone who would survive and thrive on a ranch. And he could use a partner. An equal.
Then little Ms. Holly Eve appeared in front of him. Well, was dragged in front of him, pouting in an adorable way. He liked how she had to lean her head way back to look him in the eye. He liked how she sized him up with that crooked bonnet and a strand of blonde hair blowing in the wind. He liked the challenge in her gray blue eyes and irreverent way she spoke to him about growing up on a ranch.
He never knew he liked any of those things, but courting wasn’t really a sport he’d ever engaged in. Which was probably why he’d hired the Zacharys to provide him with a wife. He’d be an idiot if he let Holly get back on that train.
She was perfect.
He held a finger up at Zeke Zachary as he tried to apologize and brushed past Sarah as she looked mortified. He reached Holly just as she took her first step up onto the train, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back into his chest as she gave an appealing little squeal of surprise.
“Get your hands off me!”
“We don’t have much time, but you’re going to listen to me until this train rolls down the tracks.” He spoke from behind her, leaning his head down and pressing his lips into her bonnet covered ear, barely brushing against the soft skin of her cheek. He suddenly found himself realizing what Shakespeare had been harping about.
The train whistle blew again.
“All right, little Miss Holly Eve. I know this wasn’t what you were expecting. Me either. But it’s where we are now, and although our choices are limited, I think you just might like it here.”
She stiffened in his arms and he felt her stomp a little foot onto his hard leather boot.
“I have someone waiting for me in San Francisco and he, he writes me poetry and is kind and…”
He felt her give up her fight a little and exhaled in sympathy. “I’m not a fancy businessman in a big city. I’m a rancher. And you want poetry? Fine. Roses are red. Violets are blue. I can tell you’re lying, but I still want you.”
She stiffened again. “I-I’m not lying.”
He laughed softly as he saw her cheeks flush. “If you only knew how expressive your face is, Miss Eve, then you’d know I know that you just lied again. I know you grew up on a ranch. Sorry about the farm thing. But you, most assuredly, Miss Eve, are no widow.”
She began to struggle against his arms, but he held her tightly. “I am. I am a war widow. Please, Mr. Browning.”
“It’s all right, it’s all right. I’m not going to tell the Zacharys. Because I’m not lying. I do want you. I find that I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I’m not cruel, though I’m not poetic. I have a nice sized ranch, healthy livestock, and I’m lonely as hell. Do you think you could live with that? With me?”
He released her and let her think as the train whistle blew a final time and steam began to blow from the engine. She slowly turned and looked up at him, concern masking an otherwise pretty face.
“They won’t leave me here if we aren’t married.” Her reply was quiet, but it seemed to be in the affirmative. He felt himself smile and saw her mouth turn up in return. He reached out and took her hand, so small in his, and turned for the Zacharys.
“We’ll have a church wedding later in the year, Zachary. Go ahead and make things official now.”
Zeke and Sarah looked shocked, but quickly pulled out the paperwork and had both parties sign quickly, the train already moving slowly away towards the mountains.
“Do you promise, et cetera, until death do you part?” Zeke asked, running alongside the train and jumping onto the step after his wife.
“Yes!” Pryce shouted, pulling Holly behind him.
“I do!” she shouted, squealing as he pulled her to a stop at the end of the platform, the train pulling around a bend. Gloved hands waved out of the cheering train car.
“Man and wife!” Zeke called, waving the paper and signing it.
Pryce looked down at his panting little wife, cheeks fl
ushed, laughing as she looked up at him. People clapped around them, some whistled, and he knew the time was right for a first kiss. He leaned his head down, wrapping a hand around the back of her delicate neck, and gently pressed his lips against hers. Her soft sigh and sweet smell had him growing hard, but the cheers from the gathering crowd tamped down his excitement. He leaned back, noticed her cheeks just seemed to be stained pink, and tipped his hat much to the amusement of the people around him.
He needed to get her home. As soon as possible. One question remained, though. She was inexperienced with men and definitely not a widow. Was she a virgin?
Colorado, on the road to Silver Creek Ranch
Holly could hardly believe it. She’d woken up that morning prepared to say goodbye to another friend, sure, but she hadn’t thought in a million years the day would end in her own marriage. She looked over at her, well, husband, as he flicked the reins of the small horse-drawn wagon they were bouncing around on. He was so handsome, so big, and all hers. But what was she supposed to do with him? She wasn’t sure what a wife did, really.
“Mr. Browning?”
She saw his mouth turn up into a grin. He tipped his hat up and looked down at her. “Call me Pryce, Holly.”
“Sorry.” She turned her head down to her hands in her lap and chewed on her lip.
“Nothing to be sorry about. What’s on your mind?”
She looked off to the tall pine trees along the snow-patched road, trying to find the right way to ask what he expected of her. She felt his heavy hand on top of hers and looked over to see him giving her an indulgent grin.
“I’ve never been a husband. We’ll both have to learn how to do this together.”