Breathless

by Beverly Jenkins

  “You introduced Ruth to James.”

  She settled back against him. “I suppose you’re right, but it was also to point him at another woman, so maybe not so kind.” She heard his chuckle rumble in his chest.

  “And you’re honest, I like that, too.”

  “They say love is blind.”

  “Love is also patient,” he added quietly. “Love is kind. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never ends.”

  Portia was so moved by his words, her voice came out as a whisper. “Did you make that up yourself? That’s beautiful Kent.”

  “No. It’s from the Bible. First Corinthians. Chapter thirteen verses four to eight.”

  “The Bible?”

  “Yes. It was the only thing we were allowed to read when I was in prison. It didn’t make me a preacher but after three years I knew it pretty well.”

  “I’m marrying a Bible-quoting cowboy. What else is hidden inside you, Kenton Randolph?”

  He kissed her. “You’ll have the rest of our lives to find out.”

  The next day, true to his word, Mr. Nogales returned and to Portia’s surprise he brought his wife. She was a petite woman with long dark hair and a ready smile. While he and Kent went out to tour the ranch property, Portia and Luisa sat in Portia’s office to talk over the transfer of their ledgers. “How long has your husband had the business?” Portia asked taking notes.

  “Ten successful years and I’ve been doing the ledgers. It’s now time for someone to take them off my hands.”

  “Your husband told us about the baby your daughter is expecting. Congratulations.”

  Her face lit up. “Yes. I’m going to be an abuela.”

  “Is this your first?”

  “Yes.”

  Then they got down to business. For the next hour Portia asked questions about payroll, suppliers, the operating structure, and how they handled their banking. Luisa answered each question succinctly and expanded the explanations when it was warranted. By the time the men returned, Portia had a good handle on all she needed to know. With Mr. Nogales in the room, they then discussed rates. Portia envisioned having to negotiate what she felt would be fair compensation but she was surprised when they offered a figure that exceeded her expectations.

  Mrs. Nogales explained why. “Because of bigotry it’s sometimes difficult for us to find someone we trust to provide us the service you’re offering. The reason I’ve handled our ledgers all these years is because those we hired in the past either treated us with contempt or thought we were too ignorant to know they were bent on cheating us.”

  Her husband added, “If you do as good a job as I think you will, Miss Carmichael, you’ll be worth every dollar we pay you and we will spread the word, not only to the people we know but to the Chinese businessmen and women facing the same prejudices. Don’t be surprised when they come courting, too.”

  Touched by that, Portia said, “I’ll do my best to honor the faith you’re putting in me. Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Luisa said. “And congratulations on your wedding.”

  “Thank you for that, too.”

  The couple stood. In parting, Mr. Nogales said, “I’m looking forward to building the house for you and your husband. I’ll see you soon.”

  After their departure Portia sat at her desk and thought about the conversation. Would she be embraced because of she was a person of color? Truth be told, she’d never envisioned filling such a niche, but thinking about it, she supposed it made sense considering the times and mood of the country. It meant her business could be all she imagined, and maybe more.

  Kent and Portia had a late afternoon appointment in Tucson with Reverend Cordell to receive wedding counseling, a service he offered to all couples as a condition of his conducting the ceremony. In the buggy on the way there, Kent looked over from his seat behind the reins and noted Portia’s quietness “Penny for your thoughts, Duchess.”

  “The reverend is not the most progressive thinker so I’m trying to prepare myself.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious, Kent. I can only imagine what kind of advice a man like him will give us. He’s given sermons denouncing female suffrage as a tool of the devil, for heaven’s sake. If Eddy didn’t have her heart so set on having a wedding with all the pomp and circumstance, I would’ve been content having Sheriff O’Hara marry us in his office.”

  “There you go being kind again.”

  “I suppose.”

  He tried to reassure her. “It’ll be fine. We’ll grit our teeth, smile, and head home. It won’t be that painful.”

  He was wrong. This being Kent’s first dealing with the corpulent Reverend Bertram Cordell, he now understood why James rarely had much to say. His father spoke nonstop. For over an hour he detailed Portia’s duties to her husband from a list that included everything from always being obedient and cleaning house to nightly foot rubs. Kent covered his snort of laughter with a cough. His duchess was not pleased. Dressed in a black suit and vest with a gold pocket watch chained to it, he looked for all the world like a politician. He certainly pontificated like one. When he told Portia to always defer to her husband no matter how much she disagreed because the male mind was far superior to the female mind, Kent saw her jaws lock so tightly he thought her teeth might shatter.

  Three-quarters of the way through yet another long-winded soliloquy, this time on a woman’s duties to her children, Portia asked him, “So, Reverend, what are Kent’s duties?”

  So far he hadn’t mentioned anything specific.

  “Why to be the head and mind of the household, Portia. Haven’t you been listening?” He turned to Kent and said, “See? This is why females need our guidance. I don’t think they hear a word we say sometimes.”

  Finally, after ninety long minutes of rambling sentences, cock-eyed opinions, and questionable Bible verses, they were allowed to leave.

  Outside, Portia climbed into the buggy and folded her arms in a huff.

  Kent got in on his side and said, “Obviously I was wrong.”

  “Thank you for loving me, Kent, because if I was married to him, I would have killed him so many years ago, I’d be paroled by now.”

  Howling with laughter, he slapped down the reins and drove them home.

  After dinner, the women left for the guest suite Rhine had dubbed Wedding Headquarters to handle whatever details still needed their attention and Rhine retired to his office to do business. That left Oliver and Kent alone, so he asked, “Would you like to ride over and see the property where Portia and I are having our house built?”

  “Sure.”

  Kent brought the buggy around and the shadow crossed his heart again as he watched his father slowly make his way onto the seat. Oliver winced a few times in response to what must have been sharp flares of pain but he didn’t ask for help and Kent didn’t offer so as to allow him his dignity.

  On the drive over Kent kept the horses to a slow but steady pace so as to not jostle his passenger too much and they talked about the beauty of the surroundings. “Pretty country here,” Oliver noted. “I expected there’d be more desert like Virginia City. All these trees are surprising.”

  “The trees took me by surprise, too, but there is desert not that far away.”

  They shared a silence for a short while before Oliver said, “So tell me what you been doing since the last time we were together. What’s it been, three—four years?”

  “About that.” Kent filled him in on the jobs he’d worked, their locations, and how long he’d stayed at each.

  “You always were restless.”

  Kent smiled.

  “Even as a child you had trouble sitting still. I think that’s something a mother teaches. I didn’t have time. Too busy seeing to folks’ ills so I could keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.”

  “And I appreciated it, even if I didn’t act as if I did.”

  “We’re too much ali
ke. Proud. Stubborn.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “The softness I needed to balance my hardness. A much better woman than I deserved, frankly, which could be why God took her from me when he did. Even after marrying her I was still pining for Sylvie.”

  His father had been in love with Sylvia for decades before they finally became man and wife fifteen years ago. Only when Kent was older did he learn the two had engaged in an affair while Sylvia was married to her first husband. “Be faithful to Portia, Kent.”

  “I plan to.”

  They’d never had a discussion like this before and Kent wondered if Oliver wanted to get all this off his chest because he knew he was dying.

  When they reached the property. Kent set the brake and started to step out, but Oliver said, “I’m not going to get out, son. I’m in too much pain to walk around. I just want to look. Point and show me where the house will be built.”

  Swallowing his guilt for subjecting his father to the ride, Kent complied, then answered his father’s questions about how soon the construction would begin and when the house would be ready to move into. They spent a few more minutes talking about the horse wrangling business he wanted to start and the office that would be built on the back of the house for Portia’s business.

  “Those are grand plans, Kenton. Good plans.”

  Kent enjoyed the praise.

  “We should probably get going, and don’t feel guilty for bringing me out here. I needed to see it because I might not be around when it’s time for you to move in.”

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  Driving back, Kent was glad they’d spent the time together, even if it had been brief. A question that had been plaguing him for some time came to mind. He turned to ask Oliver if he knew whether his mother had any family, but he was asleep.

  When they reached the hotel, rather than awaken him, Kent gently picked him up and carried him inside. The country doctor who’d been so hale and hearty now weighed no more than a child. The realization brought such strong emotions, tears stung his eyes.

  Sylvia was waiting for them inside as if knowing she’d be needed. Kent followed her to their room and laid him softly on the bed.

  “Thanks, Kent,” she whispered.

  Kent left her and, because cowboys weren’t supposed to cry, he went to his room and closed himself in so no one would know.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was so hot the morning of her wedding, Portia almost dreaded having to put on the beautiful gown made by Luz Salinas. She was clothed in all the layers a woman traditionally wore, and adding the gown on top would only increase her discomfort. She prayed she didn’t faint from heat stroke. Regan, already dressed and looking beautiful in her pale blue gown, entered to help her with her hair.

  “I’m jealous,” Regan said, plying the hot hair iron.

  “Why?”

  “Because later today, you’ll be Mrs. Kent Randolph and I’ll still be Miss Regan Carmichael.”

  “Haven’t found your mail-order husband yet?” Portia teased.

  Regan went so still, Portia turned around so she could see her face. “Regan?”

  She didn’t respond, but the guilt on her face let Portia know instantly that something was very wrong. “Tell me or I swear I’ll go and get Aunt Eddy.”

  “I was going to wait and tell you in a few days.”

  “Tell me now, please.”

  “I’ve found him. He’s a doctor in Wyoming. We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks now.”

  Portia stared.

  “He sounds perfect, Portia. He’s a widower. Only eight years older, and he has a young daughter. And before you say anything else, I have agreed to marry him.”

  Filled with panic, Portia shouted, “What! You really are going to be a mail-order bride? But why?”

  “One, because there’s no one here I want to marry and, two, for the adventure of it.”

  “Sweetheart, this is marriage you’re talking about. This isn’t an adventure like delivering mail. Suppose he isn’t who he claims to be? What if he turns out to be someone who harms you? What if everything he’s written is a lie?”

  “What if it isn’t?”

  Portia had no response for that, but she worried that the man might be taking advantage of her sister’s quest for love. “Does Eddy know?”

  “No, and I’m still trying to decide how to approach her and Uncle Rhine with the news.”

  “Lord, Regan.”

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re not supposed to spend your wedding day wondering if I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Have you?”

  “No. From his letters, he needs me, Portia, and so does his daughter.”

  Portia’s love for Regan and the need to keep her safe competed with her desire for Regan to find her own version of the happiness she’d found with Kent. Portia reminded herself that Regan was a grown woman and in many ways more experienced in life than she was, but still, to go all the way to Wyoming to be the bride of a man she’d only corresponded with for a few weeks?

  “Can you try and be happy for me?”

  “Oh, honey, you know I am, but are you sure this is wise?”

  “I am.”

  Portia wanted to shout that she couldn’t go but knew she didn’t have that right. Nor did she want Regan to sneak off in the middle of the night without so much as a good-bye. The girl had always been headstrong. “Okay. I’m not going to fuss. If you have your mind made up, then I’ll support you if Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine go through the roof.”

  Regan smiled and hugged her. “Thanks, Portia.”

  Portia held her tight and wanted to weep. They’d been together their entire lives. It had been them against a world that had initially offered nothing but poverty and heartache. What would life be without her? She was already feeling the loss. Easing away, she looked Regan in the eyes. “But if this man turns out to be a monster, I expect you to pack up and come home.”

  “I will. Promise.”

  Regan went back to doing Portia’s hair but Portia couldn’t rid of herself of her worry. As if reading her thoughts, Regan said gently, “Stop worrying, Portia. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

  Portia nodded but the worry remained. Eventually as they talked about all the day had in store, Regan’s plans no longer plagued Portia like a sore tooth. She knew the worry would return eventually but she let the prospect of becoming Mrs. Kenton Randolph rise to the fore again. With that in mind, she got dressed.

  The gown was a lovely cream color with a lace inset between the neck and bodice. It had a flowing skirt, small capped sleeves that left her arms bare and was easily the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen. Her new shoes were cream colored and accented with soft gold bows. Her stockings and garters were the same color as her gown. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself.

  “You look so gorgeous, Kent’s going to want to eat you with a spoon.”

  A soft knock interrupted them. It was Eddy. She was dressed in a resplendent mauve gown that she wore as if she were royalty. When she looked at Portia tears welled in her eyes. “Oh my. Look how beautiful you are.”

  Regan wiped at her own tears. “Aunt Eddy, stop. You’ll have us all weeping in a minute.”

  “But look at her,” she said again.

  Tears stung Portia’s eyes. “You look beautiful, too.”

  “Thank you. I just came in to tell you the guests have arrived and your uncle Rhine’s waiting out in the hallway. When you’re ready, just come out.”

  Eddy kissed Portia’s cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She kissed Regan’s cheek, too. “I love you, too, and you can’t get married for at least twenty more years. I won’t know what to do if I lose both of my girls.”

  Eddy left wearing a watery smile and when the sisters were alone again, they shared a guilty look.
Regan said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  Regan gave her a wink and was gone.

  Refusing to let her worry about Regan rise again, Portia drew in a deep breath, picked up her bouquet of wildflowers, and stepped out into the hallway.

  Her uncle Rhine, clad in formal black and white attire, said, “You look very beautiful, Portia.”

  Butterflies were taking flight in her stomach. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready to get married?”

  “Yes.”

  He gallantly offered his arm and escorted her away.

  When Portia appeared on Rhine’s arm, she was so beautiful it made Kent ache. He’d never experienced such a sensation before. He wanted to hand out blindfolds to every man in attendance and demand they be tied on so he’d be the only who could see her. Her hair was up, and she wore a light application of face paint that made her cat-eyed features even more alluring. Beside him, his father Oliver whispered, “You have a gorgeous bride, Kenton.”

  Kent thought the word didn’t even come close to describing his duchess.

  Rhine walked her to Kent’s side and after placing a kiss on her brow, stepped aside to stand with the teary-eyed Eddy. Kent took her hand in his. He looked down, met her shining eyes, and he was so happy inside he wanted to kick up his heels and yell “Hot damn!” With the sober-faced Reverend Cordell standing before them, Bible in hand, he decided that was probably inappropriate, so he calmed himself and prepared to recite the vows.

  The vows were recited, the marriage sealed and blessed, and Reverend Cordell said to Kent, “You may now kiss your bride.”

  Their kiss was met with much hooting and hollering and applause from the large crowd. When he finally turned her loose and they faced the people who’d gathered, he said in a voice only she could hear, “Now, everybody go the hell home so I can make love to my wife.”

  She giggled, elbowed him gently and said, “Behave.”

  The reception took place in the ballroom and the Fontaine Hotel and its staff did the newlyweds proud. There was enough food to feed the entire territory and the champagne flowed like waterfalls. There was music, dancing, and many toasts. Matt got so drunk off two flutes of champagne, Regan found him asleep outside beneath one of the tables. Kent remarked that his assistant foreman couldn’t hold his pie or his liquor. As evening arrived and the sun went down, Portia was glad she and Kent were married, but after all the celebrating her feet were hurting, she was hot and tired, and all she wanted to do was take off her gown and crawl into bed. Eddy walked over. “You look exhausted. It’s okay if you and Kent want to leave.”