by Kristin Holt
Lessie raised her chin a notch. The men were significantly taller up close than they’d been across the large space. One had blue eyes, the other hazel, but the family resemblance was certainly strong.
Blue Eyes removed his bowler in a courtly gesture, while Mr. Hazel seemed to take in their shabby appearance from crown to shoe. Could she help it if they were mussed from days of travel? Or that they’d needed to keep their dresses shorter than strictly fashionable, in order to safely operate the treadle sewing machines at the mill?
“Ladies, I am Adam Taylor,” Blue Eyes said by way of introduction. His suit, crafted of fine wool, had been absurdly expensive. Costly shoes, too. A tie-pin more expensive than any piece of jewelry she’d ever owned in her life.
Josie immediately relaxed into Lessie’s side.
They’d found their grooms. That must mean sour-tempered Mr. Hazel was none other than Mr. Richard Cannon. Of Cannon Mining.
Dressed every bit as nicely, his wealth showed in the superb cut of his suit, the high polish of his shoes, and the make of his bowler… which he finally removed.
Apparently money couldn’t buy manners.
“Are you the Hadley sisters from Massachusetts?” Mr. Taylor asked.
Josie nodded and ducked just a little further behind Lessie’s shoulder.
“I’m Lessie Anne Hadley. My sister,” she indicated with a little nod, “Miss Josie Anne Hadley.”
“Welcome, ladies. We’re ever so glad you’ve arrived safely. Might we assist you with your trunks?”
Lessie chose to ignore the snobbish Mr. Cannon and looked Mr. Taylor directly in the eye. “Thank you for your kind offer, sir, but all we have is this one bundle.”
He seemed to finally notice the sheet she’d tied about their changes of clothing. Not many items, but all they had in the world.
Blue-eyed Mr. Taylor glanced at Mr. Cannon. The look that passed between them raised Lessie’s hackles.
Mr. Cannon had the nerve to lift a single brow. The snob.
In Lawrence, Lessie and Josie were all too accustomed to fancy ladies and well-dressed gentlemen ignoring them, treating them like the work-a-day lower-class citizens they were.
She’d expected better from the men who’d intentionally asked for women just like them. “If you two wanted ladies with trunks filled with fancy gowns, you shouldn’t have asked for girls who knew how to work.”
“Our humblest apologies.” Mr. Taylor seemed to be the only one who could speak. “We’re simply stunned— we didn’t realize you two were identical twins. You’re both exquisite, if I might say so.”
“I did say we’re twins.” Lessie had most certainly said so in her telegram. “You wanted family connection, did you not? Obviously, we’re related. We’re youthful, strong. Healthy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mr. Taylor seemed eager to please, but that Mr. Cannon…
Lessie turned her attention on him, her ire piqued. “Are we not what you wanted, Mr. Cannon? Your advertisement said you wanted hard workers, women who knew the value of a dime.”
“Actually, Miss,” —Mr. Taylor, again— “I never wrote that.”
“Your ad said: hard-working, factory or mill experienced.”
“Yes. A tad different than ‘women who know the value of a dime.’”
Lessie glared from Mr. Taylor to the still-silent Mr. Cannon. If they dared show disappointment in getting exactly what they advertised for, she had every right to her own disappointment.
These two were not what she’d wanted.
No way would she pay them back for the exorbitant sum they forwarded for train fare and meals along the way. Not even under duress would she let them know she still had many dollars remaining in her purse. They chose how much money to send, not her.
She and Josie had been frugal, eaten sparingly… how was that somehow their fault? They’d essentially earned the difference. The money belonged to her and to Josie, and if they had to make a break with these potential husbands, they have at least a few dollars to do it with.
“Miss Hadley,” Mr. Cannon finally said, “we’re surprised. That’s all. As my cousin said, surprised and delighted that you’re so lovely.”
She narrowed her eyes. Any man tossing compliments about wanted something.
Even one who claimed to want to wed her.
Mr. Taylor, the charmer of the two, had clearly met Josie’s eye and the pair must’ve exchanged smiles because Mr. Taylor still smiled.
She couldn’t blame Mr. Taylor and his lovely blue eyes for being drawn to sweet, kind Josie. The quiet, nice sister, consistently content to allow Lessie to fight their battles.
So Lessie turned to engage Richard Cannon. “So, which of us drew the short straw and is assigned to you, Mr. Cannon?”
Heat flared in his hazel eyes, and she immediately knew she’d gone too far. How could she help it? Especially when he looked at her with disappointment and distaste?
Except the heat in his eyes wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t disappointment. It almost resembled appreciation…?
Adam Taylor deftly took Josie’s hand and slipped it through the crook of his elbow. “I do believe, Miss Josie Anne Hadley, you’re meant to be mine.”
Oh, wonderful. Lessie, the strong, capable sister, stuck with sour-faced Mr. Cannon. But if either of them could handle the boor, it would be she. No way could soft-spirited, kind-hearted Josie. She’d wither within a week of marriage to this curmudgeon.
But Lessie understood this marriage agreement was just another job. A job that paid but came with the protection of marriage, a home, a man to be the wage-earner. Did it really matter who she married?
“I see, Mr. Cannon, I’ve drawn the short straw.”
He laughed aloud, softening the stark lines of his face, relaxing the tension in his jaw. The gentle rumble of honest laughter made him almost attractive.
And showed off his good teeth to their best advantage.
Maybe life with him wouldn’t be entirely awful.
“Perhaps you’re correct, Miss Hadley.” He reached for her bundle and actually took the smudged knot from her hand. “Yet it appears I’ve received exactly what I wished for.”
Obviously they’d started off on the wrong foot. Or maybe Miss Cranky Lessie, his apparent bride-to-be required food. She must be hungry, as skin-and-bones as she was, too thin by far to be a genuine beauty— though her darker-than-dark brown eyes sparkled with vitality and good health. Dark hair, olive complexion, and flashing eyes that could burn a man at ten paces.
Truly lovely.
“This fine new rail station has a restaurant right here. Let’s go sit a spell and eat.”
He checked his pocket watch, just in case, and found they did indeed still have two hours until they had to be at the church for the double wedding.
He’d feed the young ladies, see if that didn’t improve Miss Lessie’s snappish disposition, and if time allowed, it wouldn’t hurt to see about buying them something better to wear to church.
By comparison, Richard and Adam were overdressed in Sunday-best suits, bowlers, and gold pocket watch chains. Their brides dressed like hard-working impoverished young women, their dresses heavily patched and threadbare. Pastor Wilson would scowl at the difference and would likely imply the heirs of Cannon Mining could dress their brides better.
“Thank you, Mr. Cannon,” one of the beauties said… must be Sassy Lessie because he still hadn’t heard Josie make a peep. “We have just eaten.”
“Humor us, ladies, please.” He tried to borrow some of Adam’s charm. “We want very much to have a nice visit, provide you a chance to rest before the ceremony. Besides, we’re hungry.”
Miss Sassy… maybe he’d call her Sassafras… was so busy clinging to her sister’s hand, Richard figured she wouldn’t accept his offer, but he gave her his arm anyway.
She glanced at it like it might bite her.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Tentatively, she placed her little hand on his arm a
nd allowed him to lead her through the crowded station toward the restaurant. This time of day, not many travelers had sought a bite to eat, so the hostess seated them quickly.
Thank goodness. He had to get some food into this gal and quick.
When the waitress came around, Richard made sure Adam understood the plan without saying more than, “Boy, I sure am hungry.” The two of them ordered plenty enough for all of them.
But when the food arrived, he found Sassafras sticking to her guns, refusing to eat.
Hmmm.
He picked at a sandwich, ate a pickle or two, and drank his tea.
And tried not to watch the happenings between Adam and soft-spoken Miss Josie. Why were they off to a good start while he struggled to have a pleasant conversation with his bride?
When they couldn’t drag the meal out any longer, and he’d failed to tempt Lessie into a single bite, he suggested, “We’ve got plenty of time. Let us walk over to the dressmaker’s on 25th and see if she has something pretty all made up you ladies would like to wear for the ceremonies.”
Immediately, he knew he should’ve asked Adam to charm the ladies into accepting.
Lessie folded her arms. “No thank you, Mr. Cannon. We have everything we need.”
He’d furnished little things of comfort for her at home, such as a brush and comb, a vanity table, creams and lotions, but no clothing. He’d had no idea what to have made or where to begin. Women came in so many shapes, sizes, and heights.
He’d have to correct that misstep, right away.
Didn’t all women want what men— especially their men— could provide? Richard shot a questioning glance at Adam but found the poor fool grinning at his bride. He whipped his attention back to Lessie. “Didn’t our advertisement ask specifically for good-natured women to apply? Cooperative and desirous of marital harmony?”
She glared at him darkly, “You don’t understand much about women, Mr. Cannon, do you?”
“Apparently I do not.” What was he supposed to do? Go home and change into workman’s clothes to stand up in the church and wed his bride?
Without saying another word, Miss Sassy Lessie Anne followed her sister out of the restaurant.
Only her twin had taken Adam’s arm and sported the happiest of grins upon her face.
Ah, look at that. His own bride could be a beauty… if only she’d smile.
And suddenly, he had no greater objective, nothing he wanted more than her smile, directed at him.
Let her stand up in the church, marry in a working dress that’d seen at least six years’ hard washings and even harder wear, and worse, had obviously been made for someone with wider shoulders and a more generous curves… a decade ago. Fine. Whatever the lady wanted the lady would have.
But she would smile. She’d look at him, and she’d offer an honest, genuine smile.
One way or the other, that’s exactly what Richard Cannon would make happen.
Chapter Four
The First Baptist Church stood on the corner of 24th Street and Grant Avenue, not far from Union Station. A short drive, but long enough Richard noticed his bride-to-be kept her attention on the donkey-pulled trolley cars, other carriages, the various houses and buildings… anything but him. Nor did she pay much heed to her happy sister or Adam in the back seat.
Was she nervous? Fearful? Doubting her decision to wed a stranger?
Ditto. In that moment he couldn’t remember what had possessed him to offer marriage via telegram and sight unseen.
So upon arrival at the church and introductions to Pastor Moody, Richard had most definitely not expected Miss Sassafras Lessie to smile at him so readily.
He’d been prepared to work for it.
She’d greeted the minister then turned to him, and her uncertain, timid smile revealed a glimmer of what made her tick.
Oh, yes. Definitely worry. Fear. Doubt.
He understood all three, far too well.
Understanding what lay behind the bluster and quick tongue, refusal of a meal and a simple change of clothes… it all made sense.
She wanted— no, she needed— reassurance.
Against his will, compassion for this girl flooded his mind and his heart.
He could give her a sense of safety, protection, and so much more. He could ease her fears, see to it her worries faded. One of a husband’s greatest joys in life came from sheltering his wife from concerns of the world. This tough-spirited young woman hadn’t had the protection of a man in a very long while. If ever, for all he knew.
No wonder.
He lowered his head, leaned near her ear so only she could hear. “I promise you, Miss Hadley, everything will be fine. I swear it.”
In easing her fears, his own doubts about marrying the independent Miss faded. Things would be fine. He would see to it.
“Marriage licenses?” Pastor Moody knew enough to turn to Adam for such details. “You’ll serve as one another’s witnesses. We’ll complete the paperwork at the conclusion of the ceremonies.”
Josie and Adam were wed first in a simple and brief rite that had Richard contemplating the serenity on his cousin’s face… and the captivating smile on Josie’s.
Once Richard succeeded in banishing Lessie’s worry, fears, and doubts, she would smile at him in that way, and the payoff would be glorious.
Adam slipped his ring on Josie’s finger, then kissed her as his wife.
The minister called Richard and Lessie forward.
The sun must have reached a perfect afternoon angle in the sky, for brilliant jewel-toned light streamed through the stained glass window and illuminated Lessie’s olive complexion and pooled on her hair, nearly as black as his own.
He didn’t know what he expected, but found himself surprised she held his gaze, really looked at him while the minister spoke of the duties and responsibilities of marriage.
Everything will be fine.
He smiled to offer encouragement and hope.
Richard spoke the words the minister gave him, watching the soft brush of her lashes against cheeks bearing stained-glass sunbeams.
Pastor Moody must’ve asked her to repeat her vows, for she spoke. The movement of her lips drew Richard’s attention.
When the time came, he slipped his plain gold band onto Lessie’s finger.
So uncomplicated, this token of marital vows, and in the moment he regretted not spending more. Would a heavier, more substantial piece, one bearing diamonds or emeralds or rubies have given Lessie a greater sense of hope? Stability? Permanence?
Probably.
He’d not considered what his ring might symbolize to her when he’d made the purchase.
He should’ve spent more. Ten times more.
Without waiting for Pastor Moody’s instruction, Richard raised her hand, bowed to meet his ring upon her finger, and pressed his lips to the gold, already warming with the heat of her body.
He met her gaze, his lips lingering on her skin.
He noted her unsteady intake of breath, the subtle widening of her eyes, the reality that she really saw him.
Him. Richard.
One man.
Her husband.
“You may kiss your bride.”
With hesitancy he didn’t understand, Richard released her hand, and pulled Lessie, Mrs. Richard Cannon, into his arms. He’d intended a quick peck on the lips to seal their marriage vows. Who expected more under circumstances like these?
But he found himself holding her close, lifting her onto her toes as his mouth found hers.
The press of her lips to his, so tentative, so innocent was heralded by a shock of recognition.
My wife.
Mine.
Applause thudded dully in his ears. Their small audience, Adam and Josie.
With reluctance he did comprehend, Richard released the kiss, set his bride onto her feet and quelled the rush of insistence to kiss her again.
See Lessie smile remained at the top of his wish list. A close second: kiss Lessie
again.
She raised trembling fingertips to her lower lip, touched them as if she felt something in his kiss, something that moved her as much as it had him.
Good.
He leaned near to whisper to his wife. “Hello, Mrs. Cannon.”
Lessie twisted the gold wedding ring on her finger as Richard drove the matched pair of bays through the city streets, her head too full of her own thoughts to notice much where they were headed.
Until the carriage stopped at one of the edifices in Ogden City she recognized too well. The clock tower cast a lengthening shadow across the grounds and crisscrossed donkey-drawn trolley cars.
The Union Pacific railway station.
Lessie glanced at her sister, in the back seat with her new husband.
Richard climbed down from the buggy and circled to offer her his hand.
She met his hazel eyes, somehow warmer now that she’d experienced the wonder of his kiss. Especially after he’d promised her things would be all right. Tender, new sprouts of trust had taken root. “Where are we going?”
The men exchanged a glance.
A surprise wedding trip, perhaps?
Maybe the men didn’t actually reside in Ogden City. Known as Junction City, Ogden was home to the largest railway hub in the area. For all she knew this rig was rented and their home was in another county altogether.
But Mr. Cannon didn’t answer. He released her hand once she found herself safely on the paving stones and steadily met her gaze.
He might struggle to find the words, but she saw the truth of it in his eyes.
They all weren’t going anywhere.
Panic tingled at the periphery, creeping back in. Who would leave? The men? Surely they wouldn’t send her and Josie away, would they?
Adam assisted Josie from the carriage and rested his hand at her back. “It’s regrettable, dear sister, but my wife and I must depart.”
Richard had promised things would be all right. But Adam— her sister’s husband— had made no such promises. He might possess charm in spades, but Adam lacked the most basic consideration for Josie’s feelings and comfort. He planned this railroad journey without asking Josie if it pleased her… to begin the same day she finally stepped off the swaying, clattering monstrosity. Had he paused to consider she might not want to leave?