by Jenna Brandt
“The whole reason I have a bar and not a saloon is that I don’t want to deal with women. Why would I want a permanent one poking her nose around my business and running off my customers?”
“I wasn’t referring to down here, Mr. Stillwell,” she said in a way that made it clear she thought it silly he would make such an inaccurate assumption. “I was referring to the bookkeeping for the business. I can find you a wife that is educated and capable of managing your finances. Wouldn’t that take a huge burden from your shoulders?”
Mason wavered, realizing that when he had thought about needing a partner, he hadn’t thought about it in the Biblical sense. Now that Miss Viola had put the idea in his head though, he realized it would be the perfect solution. A wife would want the bar to flourish to keep her in presentable clothes and food on the table. She would be just as invested as he would be to make it a success. As for the rest of it, he could explain to his future wife once she arrived that it didn’t need to go beyond a partnership. Most women didn’t want to have to do the rest of the wifely duties anyhow, so she would most likely be relieved upon her arrival. This was the best $50 solution of his life.
“You know what, Miss Viola, you’ve talked me into it. I’ll come over tomorrow to make the arrangements.”
“Are you listening to me, Stillwell?” Kane inquired. “I’ve asked for a second drink twice now.”
Mason blinked several times, slightly shaking his head to bring his focus back to the present. “Sorry about that, Kane, my mind was somewhere else.”
“Obviously,” Kane chuckled. “Are you wishing you had a bride on that train?”
“You should know better than that,” Mason stated defensively. “I’m not one for marriage. Come to think of it, neither are you.”
“You’re right about me, of course, but maybe not you though. I think there’s a hopeless romantic hiding just below that gruff exterior you always sport. Who knows, once this new batch of brides arrive, it might make you hire your own matchmaker,” Kane badgered, though both of them knew neither of them wanted to be tied down by a woman.
Mason set about cleaning up the back of the bar. As he did, he wondered if he should let the money go and walk away from the whole situation. No one had contacted him about it, so he was certain it meant that along with Miss Viola, the knowledge of who the brides belonged to went to the grave.
He was certain the bride meant for him could find another man easily as women were in such short supply in the West. She’d probably be happier with someone else anyway. Yet, as he tried to push his potential bride from his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was passing up the answer to his biggest problem.
Chapter Three
When Abigail, along with the other brides-to-be entered the two-story Victorian house, she was grateful that at least they weren’t going to end up without a place to stay. When they arrived at the train station in Bent to find out their matchmaker, Miss Viola, had suddenly passed away, she feared that Alice’s harebrained idea had resulted in the worst possible outcome. Though she had her reservations about a retired cowboy, Chance Redburn, being able to do the job of matching couples as well as a woman, she would reserve completely dismissing him until she met the man.
The further she proceeded into the house, the more at ease she felt. At least the previous matchmaker had taken care of her home. There were oval framed mirrors and fine paintings on the wall as well as Tiffany lamps and expensive pieces of furniture that filled the rooms. If the previous matchmaker had taken pride in her home, hopefully it would mean she would have left someone capable of doing the same for her brides she planned to match.
A tall, rugged man entered the parlor and gruffly hushed the women. He told them he would take care of everything, explaining he would sort it all out in the morning. In the meantime, they were to go upstairs and find their rooms.
“He seems a little scary,” Alice whispered to Abigail as they grabbed their small bags and made their way upstairs. “Should we sneak out the first chance we get?”
“And go where?” Abigail whispered back. “We have no money or means to provide for ourselves. Whether we like it or not, we have to see this matchmaking debacle through.”
Alice opened the door to one of the last bedrooms, allowing the girls with more luggage to take the first rooms along the hall. “I hate to admit this, Abigail, but this might have been a really dumb idea, perhaps the worst one I’ve ever had.”
“Perhaps?” Abigail challenged with a quirk of her eyebrow. “There’s no room to argue it most assuredly, by far, is the worst one. Look where we are?” she seethed, gesturing around the small room with two small beds, tiny matching dressers and wash basin. “We’re dependent upon a man we don’t even know who doesn’t even know what he is doing. How is this going to work out well for us?”
“It still can, Abigail. Please don’t be so contrary. Half of making a situation work is staying optimistic.”
Abigail didn’t find herself prone to outbursts of anger, but at the moment she wanted to pick up and throw the single vase in the room. To have the satisfaction of hearing it shatter as it crashed across the room would have been beneficial. Of course, she didn’t do it, keeping herself composed as she had been trained to do by her mother. Instead, she let herself fall back against the bed as she let out a heavy sigh. Her body relaxed into the cushion of the bed, and before she knew it, she was close to dozing off.
A few moments later, a piercing scream interrupted her first moment of silence in nearly two weeks. Abigail bolted up and glanced around to locate Alice. She was missing. Did something happen to her sister? Leave it to her to not only be the first girl to get into trouble, but to do it within only minutes of them being in Bent.
Abigail charged out of the room and down the hall, glancing around for her sister. To her surprise, it wasn’t Alice causing the commotion. It was Cina Fairbanks, one of the other brides, who was staying in a room two doors down from them.
“I can’t believe this happened,” she cried in frustration, clutching a dark blue dress in her arms that had a visible rip in it. “This was my favorite dress and the only one that would work for courting. What am I going to wear now?”
Alice looked inside the other woman’s trunk and shrugged. “Can’t you just wear a different one?”
“I don’t have another,” Cina sniffed, shaking her head and causing her blonde hair to bounce around her face. “As a schoolteacher, I mostly wore blouses and skirts. This was my dress for special occasions and now it’s ruined. This just can’t be happening.”
“Why not use the dark green skirt and cream top? It could work. I think it would look pretty on you,” Alice said, trying to convince the other woman standing next to her. She picked up the garments and fluffed them out, then placed it up against Cina.
The other woman gave Alice a withering look and yanked the clothes away. “Don’t do that; put it back. I just can’t handle any of this right now.”
“You don’t have to speak to her that way,” Abigail chastised, stepping into the room. The urge to protect her sister was the only reason she was getting involved.
“I need to figure out what to do about all of this,” Cina whispered as tears filled the corner of her eyes. “Can you both please leave.”
As the sisters left the room, Violet, one of the other brides who had taken on the role of mothering all of the other women, came towards them with a worried look on her face. “Is everything all right? What happened? I would have come sooner but I was downstairs trying to help sort out what is going on around here.”
“Cina’s dress has a rip on it and she was rather upset about it,” Alice explained. “I tried to help her, but it didn’t go so well.”
“It wasn’t Alice’s fault,” Abigail added, not wanting the other girl to blame her sister if Violet decided to talk to her. “I think what’s really going on is she’s frustrated with the situation. This hasn’t been easy for any of us.”
“I agree, but
tomorrow is a fresh day,” Violet declared, using a more buoyant voice than Abigail thought anyone could muster on such a long and trying day. “A good night’s sleep will do us all some good.”
Abigail doubted anything would change for the group of women staying in the house. Come morning, their entire futures would still be left in the hands of a man that she doubted even knew what he was doing.
Chapter Four
Even though the town was still in a flurry about the arrival of the new women the previous day, Mason had no idea what he was going to do about his potential bride. He continued to go back and forth on whether it was a good idea to claim her.
Mason was preparing the bar for the day when, to his bewilderment, Chance Redburn, the man who had taken over the care of the women, entered the establishment. He marched right over to him.
Did he know about his involvement in the situation? Had Chance found a list in Miss Viola’s office that listed him as one of the grooms that paid to be matched to a bride? If there was any possibility he didn’t know, Mason wasn’t going to be the one to reveal the truth. He waited for the other man to speak.
“Hello, Stillwell, I was hoping to talk with you about the arrival of the women my aunt had brought in for the men of this town.”
Mason placed the final glasses under the bar before glancing up. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I have a list of all the single men and you were on it.”
“Where did you get the list?” Mason inquired, letting his hands rest on the wooden bar, wondering if Miss Viola had indeed left one with his name on it.
“I made it,” he explained with a puzzled look. “Why? Is there another list I should know about?”
Mason let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head. “To be honest, Chance, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to admit to this. When you came in here and brought it up, I realized I couldn’t lie to you about my involvement. I was one of the men who agreed to be matched. I paid my deposit and left it to your aunt to find me a wife. When I heard they were coming into town, I decided I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow through anymore. I’ve never seen myself getting married, and though your aunt did a good job of convincing me a wife would help me out around here with the bookkeeping, I don’t think it’s worth everything else I would have to deal with. I’m sorry, but I just can’t take a bride.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re giving up—not only on the money you invested, but the woman I have in mind for you? She’s a real looker Stillwell, and smart as a whip. You’d be a fool to let her slip through your fingers.”
“Smart, you say?” Mason repeated, as he rubbed his hand along his stubbled chin in contemplation.
“And pretty, real pretty,” Chance coaxed. “She’s docile too. You won’t have your hands full with her. She’ll be easy to please.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to at least meet her. If it doesn’t seem like it’s going to work between us, you can keep the money and then find her another match besides.”
“Sure, sure, if that’s how it ends up, but I doubt it. You just come on by the house later today when you have some time,” Chance said with a giant grin as he placed his wide-brimmed hat back on his head before heading out of the bar.
While Mason waited for Andy to arrive so he could go meet the possible Mrs. Stillwell, he went over the list of attributes in his head. Smart, docile, easy-to-please…and pretty. Though he shouldn’t care about that at all, he chastised himself. There wasn’t going to be anything romantic going on between them. Strictly business, nothing more, he reminded himself. There wasn’t going to be any dalliances going on with the woman. All he needed was a wife that would do what he needed and stay out of his way.
Chapter Five
Abigail pressed her lips together to keep from snapping at Mr. Redburn. He needed to stop treating her like a prized heifer he was sizing up for auction. She’d heard the rumors from the other girls that he had previously been a cattle rancher, but that didn’t excuse his behavior. Never in all her life had she been treated so boorishly.
“All right, we can’t go off your measurements, since it was made clear to me yesterday that wasn’t acceptable. Is that how it still stands?” he asked, looking from Abigail to Violet for confirmation.
Both women nodded, but remained silent.
“I suppose that means I need to ask you some different questions then,” he said, shuffling through some papers on the desk until Violet gently lifted a piece from the side and handed it to him. “Oh, yes, yes, this is what I was looking for. Let’s see,” he said scratching his head with the side of his pencil. “I have it down that you’re from Baltimore from an upper-class family. You’re an orphan.”
Abigail flinched from how flippantly he used the term. She still wasn’t used to the idea of it, and it hurt to hear it out loud. It didn’t help that it was the entire reason she ended up in this mess in the first place; that, and Alice. Where was she, anyhow? Shouldn’t she also be in here dealing with Mr. Redburn?
“Okay, so first, what do you eat regularly?”
“Pardon me?” Abigail asked with confusion. “How does that have anything to do with matching me with a husband?”
“Listen, I’m in charge so you just need to answer the questions, not ask me questions in return.”
Abigail twisted her hat in her hand, a habit she did when she was stressed. She finally answered his ridiculous question as quickly as possible. Once he was satisfied, he moved on to the next one.
“Are you active? Do you exercise regularly?”
“I suppose as much as any woman my age,” Abigail replied, trying to figure out what the question could possibly have to do with the process of matchmaking.
He glanced up and tilted his head as he looked at her. “Are you fertile?”
If she hadn’t heard Violet’s gasp and watched her turn pale with shock, Abigail would have sworn she imagined him asking the unseemly question.
“Mr. Redburn, that is completely inappropriate to ask me,” Abigail rebuked in anger. “Besides, there’s no way for me to possibly know the answer to that since I’ve never been married.”
“She’s right, Chance, You must have gotten your questions confused with the ones you used for raising cattle,” Violet explained, shifting the papers on the desk once more. “That would explain why none of these questions make sense. Here,” she said pulling another sheet from the bottom of the pile and handing it to him, “these look like the right ones.”
He grunted as he looked through the list, dismissing several questions under his breath until he settled on one half way down the list. “How much schooling did you complete?”
Well, at least this question made sense. Her future husband might have use of her education. Abigail relaxed a tiny bit as she answered. “I finished primary and secondary school and was studying to become a librarian before…the accident.”
“Do you cook? Clean?”
“I’m proficient at both. My mother taught me so I could run my own household.”
“Good, good,” he mumbled, marking the information down. “What do you—”
Before he could ask the next question, Beans, Mr. Redburn’s former cook from his cattle herding days and current right-hand man, came bursting into the room. “Another groom arrived. It’s Mr. Stillwell from the bar.”
A barkeep? Abigail pitied the girl that was going to get stuck with a man that spent all his time serving liquor in a bar. At least if Mr. Redburn was asking about her education, he would be inclined to match her with a man of similar background.
“Show him in,” Mr. Redburn ordered.
“Right now?” Beans asked, looking over at Abigail skeptically.
“There’s no time like the present.”
With a shake of his head, Beans left the way he came all the while complaining that he didn’t understand what was going on. That made two of them, because neither did Abigail. She felt like she was trapped inside a nightmare from which she could
n’t awaken.
A tall man, well over six foot, with curly black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a muscular physique entered the room. He might be a reprobate who served liquor to drunks, but he was a handsome one. Abigail wasn’t the type of woman that swooned over men, but if it were to ever happen, Mr. Stillwell would have been the one to cause it. She had to force herself not to stare at him, knowing that she shouldn’t invest any more of her thoughts on a man that was so clearly not here for her.
“Glad you made it, Stillwell,” Mr. Redburn said as he stood to his feet and came around the desk. “Why don’t you come over here.”
The handsome barkeep did as he was told and Mr. Redburn turned him sideways, then did the same to Abigail. He started pushing her backwards, until suddenly, she felt her backside being pressed up against the barkeep. What on earth was going on? She nearly thought she was going to faint from how improper it was to be so intimately close to a man that wasn’t her husband.
“Yes, yes, the two of you look proportionate to each other. Well-matched physically, and she just confirmed she’s educated, so that works as well.” Then tapping them both on the arms, he added, “Why don’t the two of you turn towards each other.”
Abigail was tempted to run from the room, afraid of how she would react standing face-to-face with the handsome stranger. She took two deep breaths before doing as Mr. Redburn directed.
The barkeep’s eyes were even more devastating up close. The blueness of them was like the sky on a perfect summer day. She couldn’t help but continue to stare into them.
“As I suspected, just as good from the front. I think this one is done,” Mr. Redburn declared. “When do you two want to get married?”
“Wait, what?” the barkeep asked in confusion. “She’s the one you described to me yesterday? This is her?”