Meg’s eyes brightened as her heart fluttered. “Oh, would you? That would be so kind. I know that I just work here on the ranch, but I’d be very grateful if you’d teach me a thing or two. Just in case the need ever arises,” she said, heat creeping into her cheeks.
Clara laughed and wrapped her arm around Meg’s shoulders, turning her toward the house.
“Go wait for me in your room and start brushing your hair out. I’ll run down to the casita and grab some combs and pins,” Clara said over her shoulder as she headed down the drive.
“All right,” Meg said with trepidation as she closed the door behind her.
She sat down at the vanity in her room and took a good look at herself in the mirror. Her brows furrowed as she moved closer to the mirror and searched her eyes as she reached for a brush.
By the time Clara knocked on her door, she’d removed all the pins in her hair and had counted at least a hundred brush strokes. Her hair glistened and she went to the door and smiled as Clara bustled through, her arms full of ribbons and boxes of combs.
“You should pick your chin up off the floor,” Clara said, laughing as she set her treasures down on the bed.
Meg smiled as she realized that she hadn’t seen any of these kinds of things since her mother had died a few years before. With seven children and a ranch to run, there had never been much time to learn to do things like this, and although Meg remembered her mother as always being beautiful and very well put together, there hadn’t been time for her to learn the same.
Clara smiled and brushed her hands together as she finished laying things out on Meg’s bed. Turning to her sister-in-law, she said, “Are you ready?”
Meg’s heart skipped a beat, and she smiled gratefully at Clara. “Yes, I think so.” She let Clara guide her back to the vanity, urging her to sit on the bench so they could both see in the mirror.
As Meg sat down, her hands clutched together in her lap, she caught Clara’s eye in the mirror.
With a gentle smile, Clara said, “Meg, you are a beautiful young woman. Yes, woman. I know you might not think of yourself that way, but you’re almost my age. It’s time we do away with pig-tails.”
Meg watched her cheeks turn crimson in the mirror as Clara began to brush her hair. “I guess I hadn’t thought of my pigtails like that. It was just an easy way to keep my hair out of my way.”
“Oh, I understand. I wore them in the bakery for the same reason, but now—goodness, now you’re a grown young woman. It’s time to think about suitors.”
“I’m not sure Papa would like us talking like this,” Meg said, her fingers still twined together in her lap.
Clara put her hands on Meg’s shoulders and bent down toward her ear, looking her in the eye in the mirror.
“Nutmeg Archer, your father loves you. He may not be thinking that way yet, but he’s going to have to get used to it. You will have suitors and so will all the other girls. So we might as well get started.”
“Thank you, Clara.” Meg sighed, knowing deep down that Clara was right. Whether her father was ready or not, it was time.
Chapter 4
“Coming,” Meg said to Maria when she knocked on her door and called her for supper. Clara had spent a great deal of time on her hair, showing her how to use different kinds of combs, how to sweep it into a bun at the back of her neck and how to braid it as other women did—not in pigtails, though.
“You’ll have a steady stream of suitors now, Meg, if you want that.” Clara smiled kindly at her as she left to get ready herself for dinner.
Meg’s stomach clenched at the thought. She hadn’t even met many men as she’d been busy at the ranch, mostly, and there was no one interesting at church on Sundays. She didn’t venture out much more often than that except lately, now that Sadie and Clara had come from Chicago, aside from her daily trips to the mercantile to deliver milk and eggs.
Besides, since Hank had been off the trail these past few months and Sam had come fairly regularly to visit him, she really only had eyes for her brother’s good friend.
She didn’t know a whole lot about his job as a bartender, and it still confused her a little that women would think that wasn’t a respectable profession. What could be not respectable about anything in the Occidental? She couldn’t even imagine, and having listened to his stories as the family sat on the porch, she was even more confused that any woman who read the Groom’s Gazette wouldn’t jump at the chance to be his bride.
She sighed as she thought of his long, strong fingers, his black hair and striking blue eyes. She blushed at the thought of his strong arms under his shirt as he served drinks to customers and polished the wood at the bar until it gleamed.
She jumped as her youngest sister, Pepper’s, voice came through the door shortly before it opened and she poked her head inside. “Maria said don’t make us wait.” Her eyes grew wide at the sight of her sister. “What happened to you?”
Meg’s hands flew to her hair as she whipped around and glared at her sixteen-year-old sister.
“And what do you mean?”
A grin spread across Pepper’s face as she stood in the doorway. “You look like someone else. Like someone pretty,” she said, laughing as she dodged the pillow Meg threw at her.
“Don’t listen to her.” Clara swept into the room and grabbed Meg’s hands, pulling her out the door toward the dining room. “They’ll get used to it.”
But Meg thought she might never get used to it as she walked into the dining room behind Clara and was met with utter silence, with every eye in the room turned in her direction.
Hank and her father both stood when they saw her, their eyes wide and seemingly stunned into silence.
“What?” Meg said as she hurried toward her chair at the table and felt all eyes following her. Even Maria stopped mid-stride as she came through the kitchen door carrying a plate of enchiladas in her hand and, as usual, she was the first to speak.
“Miss Meg,” she said slowly as she set the plate in the middle of the table. “You look beautiful. Doesn’t she, Mr. Archer.” She pointedly looked at Meg’s father, Beau Archer, who sat slowly but didn’t take his eyes off of his oldest daughter.
He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, looking down at his empty plate and then to Maria, their housekeeper who had come from Mexico to help take care of the family many years ago. “Yes, Maria, she looks beautiful.” He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to Meg, his eyes soft. “You look beautiful, Meg.”
Clara smiled and looked around at Meg’s five sisters, her eyes settling finally on Hank, who still stared at his sister as if he’d never seen her before.
“Meg wanted some tips on how to fix her hair in other ways, and while we were at it we added a little fancying up,” she said. “Doesn’t she look lovely, Hank?” she said to her husband, who seemed startled to hear his name.
“What? Oh, yes. She looks lovely.”
“I think she looks silly,” Saffron said, reaching for the plate of rice on the table after Maria nodded, confirming that the table was complete and that they should start eating.
“Saffron, do not say that,” Maria snapped, her eyes flashing at the twin. “Meg is a grown young lady now. It is time she dress and behave as one.”
“Why?” Pepper said. “Why would you fix your hair up to go milk the cows? Pigtails are smarter.” She took the dish of beans from Rosemary on her right, plopping a heaping spoonful on her plate and passing the dish to Tara on her left.
Mr. Archer lifted the platter of enchiladas, helping himself to a portion as his eyebrows furrowed. As he passed the plate to Hank on his left, he sat back in his chair, surveying Meg once more.
“What is it, Papa?” Meg asked as her eyes held his. She hadn’t guessed she would get this kind of reception from her family. It was as if she was a complete stranger. That they only saw her as the little girl milking the cows.
“It is just a surprise to see you looking so grown up, Meg,” he said as he picked up h
is fork and began to eat.
“Well, I am grown up.” Meg’s heart tugged at his words. It seemed that her entire family looked at her as a little girl, and didn’t see her as who she really was—a grown woman of marrying age.
“She definitely is grown up,” Clara cut in, smiling at Maria as she nodded in agreement. “She’s only a year younger than I am, and Hank and I have been married for months now.”
Her husband appeared puzzled as he looked from his wife to his little sister and back again. His fork stopped in mid-air and Meg noticed his ears go crimson as he turned to look at his father.
Clara hid a smile behind her napkin and she winked at Meg. Meg tried to smile in return but felt her stomach knot as she realized that her family didn’t think of her as an adult, and never may.
“That’s different, Clara,” Saffron said, turning to Meg. “Meg doesn’t need suitors. We’re happy here the way things are. Aren’t we, Meg?”
Meg had always been closest to her sister next in line—Rosemary had always been the one she shared secrets with, and Rosemary shared hers with Meg in return. They’d grown even closer since their mother died, and a sense of embarrassment washed over her as she realized that she hadn’t shared with her how she felt about Sam Allen. Or about being interested in suitors.
“I…I…well, I’ve been thinking, and it might be time for me to entertain suitors. Mightn’t it, Papa?” She turned a hopeful gaze at her father, not at all certain how he would respond.
She turned her eyes to her hands in her lap as he said, “Now, Meg, let’s not rush things. Really, Clara and Hank were only married a few months ago, and that was a big change. I…well, another big change like that might be too much. For your sisters.”
Meg caught Maria and Clara sharing a knowing glance, and her heart tugged as he spoke the words that sounded so final.
“Who would want to be her suitor anyway?” Pepper asked, reaching for the plate of enchiladas for seconds.
“Pepper, stop,” Maria admonished. “And, Mr. Archer, I think that Meg’s sisters would be fine with Meg having suitors. It’s you and Mr. Hank I’m not too sure about,” Maria said over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.
“Papa, I really am old enough,” Meg said, turning to her father at the head of the table. Her napkin had been folded and re-folded several times and she hadn’t eaten a bite although the rest of her family was almost finished. If she couldn’t get her father to agree to the idea of suitors at all, she had no chance of trying to get Sam Allen to notice her, but new excitement was growing inside her as the prospect became more and more real.
“Meg, you really want suitors?” Rosemary said softly from the far end of the table, her eyes troubled as she looked at her big sister.
Meg gazed at Rose, nodding slowly as she smiled at her sister. “Yes, Rose, I think it’s time, just like Clara said. It will be fun, and you’ll be next.”
Rose smiled at Meg and gave a small nod, a gesture Meg knew to mean she would support her decision, and she gave a small nod of thanks in return, her eyes sparkling.
“So, it’s settled, then,” Meg said, turning back to her father.
Beau Archer set his napkin on his empty plate, pushed back from the table and stood, taking a long look around the table at his family. His gaze stopped on Meg last, and her smile faded as he said, “No. Not yet. It’s not time yet.”
Chapter 5
Meg had run to her room when her father left, her thoughts racing from hopeless to angry to confused. She reached up and pulled the combs out, and shook her head as her hair fell down her back. When Clara knocked on the door and said, “Meg, can I come in?” she’d just started on her second pigtail.
“Yes,” Meg said as she yanked the tie around her pigtail, surveying herself in the mirror of the vanity.
Clara opened the door and walked over to the bed, Rose following behind.
“Oh, all our hard work, now back to pigtails.” Clara sat on the bed and motioned for Rose to sit beside her.
Meg rested her elbows in the vanity, her chin in her hands as her eyes narrowed at Clara’s reflection in the mirror.
“You heard what he said, both of you. I guess I’m supposed to look like this, a little girl, forever.”
Rose stood and crossed over to Meg, gently unbinding the pigtails and brushing her sister’s hair. “You know it was just a little sudden,” she said as she ran the brush through Meg’s long tresses.
“It may seem that way, but I’m a grown woman. How much more ‘grown’ do I have to be? Hank’s married, and he’s not all that much older than I am. I’m almost as old as you, Clara,” she huffed as she thought of Sam Allen slipping away, without her ever having had a chance.
“Maybe he just needs a little time to get used to the idea.” Clara stood behind Meg also, smiling kindly at her in the mirror. “The family has been through quite a bit lately, and you know how he feels about change.”
“That’s all well and good, but I don’t want to put everything on hold because of everything that’s happened. I’m ready to start my own life.”
Clara regarded her in the mirror, her arms folded over her chest and her head cocked to the side. “Meg, is there anyone in particular that you have set your sights on?” she asked.
Meg’s heart fluttered and she did all she could not to show her surprise. Could Clara know how she felt about Sam? No, it was impossible. She hadn’t told a soul, not even Rose, but when she looked from Clara to her sister, she saw the hint of a smile in her eyes.
“No, no. Not at all,” she said, not ready to address that issue. She couldn’t even get permission to see anyone at all, let alone someone in particular.
“Clara, we need to get to the study for our after-dinner song. Papa will be looking for us.”
Meg’s shoulders sagged at the thought of singing this evening, although they had done so most evenings after dinner, all of her sisters together, for as long as she could remember. Her mother had taught them all how to sing, to blend together in perfect harmony, and her father looked forward to it every evening he was in town. And if he wasn’t, she and her sisters usually sang at least one hymn just because they wanted to.
“I can’t do it tonight,” Meg said. “Would you please offer my apologies to Papa?”
Rose’s hand went to her mouth and her eyes flew open as she looked from Meg to Clara.
“I think it will be all right for tonight, Meg.” Clara bent down and gave Meg a quick kiss on the cheek. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
Rose squeezed Meg’s hand and walked toward the door, glancing back at her sister once before she closed the door behind her.
Meg stood and paced back and forth for a bit before she went to the window and opened it. The cool, late summer breeze ruffled her hair and she inhaled deeply, wondering if the monsoons were over for the season. It was her favorite time of the year, the evening thunderstorms feeling as if they cleansed her soul. She could use that right about now.
How could her father not be ready? She couldn’t erase his final words from her mind, no matter how many times she tried. He’d actually forbidden her from having suitors, and she just couldn’t let that happen. She was sure he’d get used to the idea once he’d thought about it. After all, he’d gotten used to Clara, and Hank coming off the trail, so why should it be different for her?
As her sisters’ voices floated on the breeze along with the scent of sage, she thought again of the conversation earlier with Sam at the Occidental. He’d put an ad in for a mail order bride and the very thought of someone else filling that role rather than her frustrated her even more.
She reached into the pocket of the dress she’d worn to lunch and pulled out the Groom’s Gazette that she’d picked up when everyone else was looking at the letters. Opening to the page with Sam’s advertisement, she read it slowly, out loud, and her eyes grew wide.
“I am all those things,” she said aloud. “Kind, honest, pretty enough, a hard worker, no children
.”
She drew in a quick breath when she read the last line, and hadn’t noticed it before. At least she didn’t remember anyone talking about it.
A female with musical training or interest would be especially welcome.
She stood and walked to the window, listening to the last of her sisters’ songs for the evening and a smile began to play on her lips.
“I am everything he asked after,” she said, again aloud as she looked at herself in the mirror. She regarded herself carefully, deciding that she also qualified for the “pretty enough” requirement.
With a laugh, she reached into her nightstand and pulled out a quill and paper. She tapped her chin as she stared at the blank page, wondering what she should write to her future husband, and after a while, her pen took over and she just wrote.
Shaking the soreness from her hand, she put the pen back in the inkwell and blew on the paper to dry the ink. She smiled with satisfaction as she folded it into an envelope and wrote, “Mr. Samuel Allen, Tombstone, Arizona,” on the outside, and blew on that until it was dry as well.
As she set it up against the mirror on the vanity, she changed into her nightdress. Her heart aflutter, she took one last look at the envelope before she got into bed, wondering what he would think—what they would all think—when they received her request. Although she’d written that she resided in Tombstone, she’d been careful to choose a name that they would not connect with her.
As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that she had no idea how she’d explain this to her father or, for that matter, explain to Samuel when she arrived as his new bride. She just knew he would choose her, and her last thought was that she’d figure out the next part of her plan in the morning.
Chapter 6
With each passing day, Meg grew more nervous about the letter she’d sent to Sam, offering to be his mail order bride. She hadn’t heard anyone mention a thing, and she knew that Clara hadn’t been out to see Sadie and Suzanne. She was beginning to wonder if it had even gotten to him—maybe lost in the mail. If it had been lost, a letter from Tombstone to Tombstone, there was no hope.
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