by Kira Barcelo
Maybe she didn't care. She could still be sulking over their argument and the spanking she'd earned. For a woman of twenty-six, she sure sulked and pouted a lot. Hopefully, life as a rancher's wife would help her grow up some. That was what came of life in the city, he supposed. Despite what Mae had said, Melanie had probably been pampered and spoiled like most young women who'd never seen hardship.
Sure about that? Sure you're not wrong about that?
As he climbed onto Twister's back, he considered the possibility that perhaps her life hadn't been a bed of roses. What Mae had mentioned—all those pretty words about Melanie's eyes reflecting a strength that was more than adequate for that life—he had seen that, too.
And respected it.
* * * * *
Reeve hadn't seen her that afternoon, though he'd stood outside the saloon and glanced up at the windows. Having had enough of being closed in by those four walls, Melanie had stepped out for a walk. Not that there was much to see in Garner Falls, but the walk and the fresh air had done her good. Though nowhere near the city Baltimore was, it boasted the church on one end and Mae's saloon and bordello on the other. The blacksmith had his own spot on that boardwalk, as did the town marshal, the general store, and Wells Fargo, with one of the stagecoaches standing right outside the building. With the silver and copper mining camps nearby, miners milled about the boardwalk along with the cowboys.
She was fine, out for a little exploration, until she saw Reeve. Spotting him leaving the saloon, she'd ducked to the side of the building. She saw him looking up at those windows rather longingly before leaving on his horse. Melanie had been torn between letting him leave and calling after him, but in the end, she thought it best to let him go.
Had he come there looking for her? Her heart raced. Was he there to check on her? Or to tell her he was sending her back? How she hated the uncertainty! Those two days before the wedding were proving to be torture. Her anger had taken time to dissipate, yet last night her sleep had been restless.
How impressive would it have been if I'd let you on this horse and he hurt you badly enough? Or killed you? I'd have to live with that.
Grudgingly, she'd come to admit she deserved the spanking he'd given her. Having to sit on a sore bottom planted on a hard, wooden seat made for a prickly ride all the way back to Mae's, too. She'd assumed he would be too angry to see her until the wedding. If there was one.
Yet he had come back.
Cutting short her time away from the room, she sauntered into the saloon. She had been told to walk on through without stopping, straight up the staircase. A lady didn't linger alone in a saloon where soiled doves were on display, or the men would get the wrong idea.
But a few minutes spent satisfying her curiosity wouldn't hurt. Melanie walked in to find Mae sitting on a man's lap and laughing heartily with a group of other men seated around a table.
Melanie had seen the man around. She was unsure as to what role he played in the bordello, but he was never far, almost as if he were a guard. He was also somewhat intimate with the madam, giving her rounded backside a playful, resounding slap as she stood to her feet.
Oh—I wonder if he spanks her? Why that thought would have occurred to her when it never would have before made her smile. Mae almost bumped into her and caught Melanie by the forearm.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry!" the older woman apologized. "Clumsy me. I almost knocked you down."
"My fault, ma'am. I'm underfoot."
"You're not underfoot at all. We're glad to have you, darlin'. Can I help you with something?"
"Well, I happened to see Reeve coming out of here. I was on my way back to the room, but I didn't realize it was him until it was too late."
Another fib. She couldn't very well say she'd hidden out of view so he wouldn't see her, now could she?
Mae was forthcoming with her answer. "He was here, yes, he sure was. He came to see if we were treating you right. I told him I had you in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for supper."
Melanie appreciated the humorous tease. "But he didn't stay?"
"No. He wanted to check on you and I told him that he has to wait until tomorrow to see you. I know he misses you, but that man will just have to wait until tomorrow. It's bad luck, you know, letting the bride and groom see each other before the wedding. Very bad luck."
"Oh, that's probably true." Smiling, she asked, "So he seemed… all right?"
As in, he's not still angry, is he?
"He seemed fine." Mae opened her bright eyes wide. "You're both bound to be nervous right now. Tomorrow's a big day for you both. I can tell you he's very excited and happy about your wedding."
Still? She drew in a sharp breath. "I'm so glad. Mae, also, I haven't thanked you. I appreciate you letting me stay here."
"Honey, it's my pleasure. By the way, Janie was looking for you. The girls have something they want to give you. Nothing big, you know. Just some little trinkets."
"Some little—oh, that sounds very nice."
"Go on upstairs."
Reeve was happy. Still! And excited, too. Even if she was a twenty-six-year-old spinster who fibbed and was afraid of horses. Her heart felt lighter than it had all day. She was sprightly, lifting her skirts and moving fast on the stairs. Suddenly, she was hopeful again, about her wedding, maybe the most joyful she'd been since she'd agreed to come to Montana.
The door to the room beside hers opened. Janie stood there, her hair pinned up with cascading curls like Mae's. Her small breasts looked slightly fuller in that bodice.
"Melanie! Where have you been?" Janie gently took her by the arm and tugged her into the room.
"Out walking," she replied, giggling.
Three other girls were in the room. Two sat on the bed, one cross-legged, and the other with a leg dangling over the side of the bed. The third leaned against the wall beside the window. The curtains were drawn and Janie closed the door behind her. Melanie wasn't sure of the other girls' names, but she believed the one sitting cross-legged was Priscilla.
Each of the girls held a small box in their hands, each adorned with a red satin bow wrapped around it.
"We have presents for you," Janie announced.
"Wedding presents," the one at the window explained. "You have to excuse us. We don't have too many brides coming in here. And you're Mr. Larson's bride, so that makes you extra special."
Melanie smiled. Mae's girls, like their madam, seemed to hold her future husband in high esteem. "That's very thoughtful of you girls," she murmured. "I don't know what to say—"
"Open mine first! Open mine!" the other girl on the bed said, passing her gift into Melanie's hands. "Mine goes first."
"Hers is first because it's something old," Janie said.
"Something old, something new," Melanie recited.
"Something borrowed," the girl at the window added. "And Janie has something blue. But Delta goes with something old."
She'd never expected gifts. Granted, they were little tokens. Tokens of friendship extended to her by young women who lived and worked in a place of ill repute. As she, too, had once been.
She pulled off the bow and opened the box to find, of all things, a shiny rock.
"It's silver," the girl told her with a smile. "One of the miners gave it to me. I figured it's been here since the earth's been here, so that makes it something old enough."
"I love it. It's beautiful. Very stylish!" Impishly, Melanie pretended to try it on as a pendant. She was pleased to hear the girls laugh.
"Here is something new," the next girl offered her gift.
Inside that box were hair ribbons. Pink ribbons, the kind that would be put into a little girl's hair.
"You can save that for your first little girl," the young woman said. "And tell her a friend of yours gave it to you for her."
"I will," she promised.
This was going to happen. It hadn't completely felt real before, but it did now, with all that talk about the wedding and future children.
/> You will never have children. You'll never be a mother. That's for a decent woman, not a woman like you. You're soiled now. What man would want you?
"Melanie?"
Janie's soft voice snapped her back to reality. She had lapsed into the past, when her uncle had said those cutting words to her.
The third girl handed her a box, saying, "Something borrowed."
"You have to bring that back to Mae," one of the girls on the bed added quickly.
As she had with the first two presents, Melanie undid the bow and opened the box. Peering inside, she laughed and plucked out a shot glass.
"For whiskey," the girl saucily tossed her head. "So all your time isn't drudgery, you spend some of those hours having fun with your cowboy."
"Have some whiskey, have more fun, but bring it back, don't forget!" Janie repeated, to the other girls' amusement. "Or it won't be borrowed, it'll be stolen at that point."
Melanie laughed. "Thank you for the advice! I don't need to add 'thief' to my list of downfalls. I was already in enough trouble for lying about being an expert at riding a horse."
The other girls' laughter became even more rambunctious. The girl who'd been sitting cross-legged sat up, tucking her legs under her and leaning forward with interest.
"You told Mr. Larson you were an expert at riding?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone. "How did he find out?"
"Well, he was—he gave me a horse last night. A wedding present. Beautiful horse. Course, I'm afraid of it." She shrugged and giggled again. "I was told I have to get over that, because I'm going to have to learn."
"Oh, don't worry, Melanie. You'll learn," Janie encouraged her with a pat on the shoulder.
"Was he mad?" the girl by the window asked.
"He was mad that I lied, not that I'm afraid of horses." She didn't see any harm in admitting the truth. Yet she stopped short of admitting that she'd been soundly spanked like a misbehaving child. "But he was here today to see how I was. Mae told him he had to wait until tomorrow."
"That's right, bad luck and all," the other girl on the bed agreed. "Now, see, you're lucky. If one of us gets caught lying or stealing, we get the strap across our behinds."
That was news to Melanie. "Mae spanks you girls?"
"No, she has Richard do it." Janie tilted her head to the side, observing her. "Did you get spanked for lying?"
Another lie? It would've been easy. No one would have known. There was always the truth, too, which would endear her to those girls. There was more of a kinship there than any of them realized. One by one, each of them gave her a devious smirk.
"You did, didn't you?" the girl by the window asked.
"No. Not at all," Melanie insisted.
"You're blushing," Janie pointed out, suppressing another laugh.
"Okay. Well, maybe a little." She painted on a serious expression. "I believe we were up to something blue. So excited to see that one…."
The girls exchanged glances, and to her relief, dropped the subject. Janie held out the last gift.
"You know what this is, something blue." She smiled at Melanie. "Remember me whenever you use it."
Melanie held the box a moment longer before opening it. It was more than a gift traditionally given; it was friendship being offered. Maybe not by the other girls, but in Janie's case, that was true.
Inside was a delicate blue cameo brooch set in gold.
"This is yours?" She was stunned.
"It's mine," Janie answered. "I've had it for a couple of years. I found it."
"Then I don't know if I can accept it, Janie. This is worth something—"
"Please do. Accept it, I mean." The young woman cupped her hands around Melanie's. "I want you to have it. You can give it to your daughter someday. Tell her your friend Janie gave it to you for your wedding."
Out of the corner of her eye, Melanie saw the woman at the window looking on and giving her head a subtle shake. Obviously, she wasn't in agreement, either. Still, so as not to insult Janie, Melanie conceded. "I'll take very good care of it then. And I'll wear it tomorrow," she promised. "It'll look so pretty on my wedding dress."
"Would you? Oh, that's wonderful!" Janie gave her cheek a kiss.
"Look, girls, sorry to cut the party short," one of the other girls said. "But we have some things to do. Get ready for tonight."
"We do a little—I guess you could call it a show for the men," the girl beside her on the bed told Melanie.
"Oh, well, I don't want to keep you from that. Thank you all for the gifts. Thank you for making me feel so welcome."
There were other words spoken on their way out, though the last girl, the brunette who'd stood by the window, was the last one to leave the room. She reeked of cheap perfume, and Melanie only now noticed it as she came closer. She confronted her.
"Janie wants so much to be your friend," the woman dropped her voice to a near whisper. "She's got some stupid ideas about that cowboy, Arnie. And you're marrying that rancher boss of his. She wants your approval. I guess she admires you."
Melanie frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want to see the poor kid get hurt. She has this silly notion you'll have something to do with her after you and Mr. Larson get married. But you're going to forget all about her then. Aren't you, princess?" She snarled at Melanie. "That's just the way things are. Things don't change."
Something else was going on. Melanie couldn't tell exactly what, but she froze at the malice in those eyes staring back at her.
"I like Janie." Though she was sincere, she realized how that sounded, as if she couldn't think of anything else to say.
Smirking, the prostitute pulled in closer. "You're one of us… aren't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do. I think you know exactly what I mean. Just because you dress like a lady and you talk like a lady, and you tell Mr. Larson what a prim and proper lady you are... that don't mean you weren't one of us not so long ago."
Melanie glared back at her. She couldn't let the brunette see her fear. As casually as possible, she let her hands fall to her side so as not to let on that they were shaking.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said again, this time in a tone to indicate the conversation was over.
The woman smiled and winked at her. "Fine. Just be careful… future Mrs. Reeve Larson."
Chapter Four
The afternoon had a dream-like quality, as if at any point Melanie could take one step forward and tumble to earth from the clouds. Crazy, but if that happened she could envision Reeve Larson catching her in his arms, her own Prince Charming in denim, leather and a cowboy hat.
For the wedding, he'd dressed up a bit, as much as cowboys cared to dress up. If he'd captivated her before, he was absolutely taking her breath away with his hair properly tamed and that dress shirt and tie. After he placed the wedding ring on her finger, a simple band of gold, his gaze lifted to hers and his tender grin made her feel, for once in so, so long, like she was precious to someone.
The preacher, Reverend Elswick, was holding up remarkably well in the heat that seemed trapped in that small but functional church building. With every window open, the heat still clung oppressively to the air. Melanie could imagine how the women fanned themselves in that room when the congregation was packed together for Sunday service.
In the front row sat Arnie and Janie, their witnesses. Janie waved at Melanie.
"Then, by the power invested in me," the preacher concluded in his flat voice, "I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride, Reeve."
He had kissed her before that one time, yet when the time came, she again felt shy. Melanie looked down at the flowers Reverend Elswick's wife had gathered into a bouquet for her from the woman's own garden, then back up at her new husband.
Her husband. She had a husband now. He, too, was shy around her. She saw his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed before kissing her lightly on the lips.
Seated in the front row, Arnie and Janie were making quite a ruckus for two people, hooting and cheering. Even the stone-faced preacher softened.
"Congratulations to you both." He smiled and nodded. "May you have many happy years together. Lots of children, too."
"Well, we'll be getting to work on that eventually." Reeve shook his hand. "Haven't talked about that yet. What do you think, honey? Eight? Ten kids?"
Melanie laughed. That was the most happy-go-lucky she'd seen Reeve since she'd arrived. "Reeve, that house will never be quiet again," she told him, smiling.
"Well, good. It's been too quiet with me and the boys anyway." On the way out the door, with her on his arm, he whispered in her ear, "We'll see how much noise we can fill in there today… by ourselves."
No one had to explain to her what he meant by that. Which, in itself, posed a bit of a problem. Melanie wasn't a typical, apprehensive bride. On the contrary—her anticipation sent her heart pounding as he helped her onto his horse.
Where's the wagon? That frantic thought did make her nervous. She wasn't a virgin; men had bedded her before. The only trepidation she felt was fearing Reeve would be able to tell she had been deflowered.
And then there was the horse. Twister seemed to be his favorite, the horse with the name given to him when Reeve found him on the way from Texas after a tornado had hit a town he'd passed in Wyoming.
Now he placed her sidesaddle, because of her dress, onto the animal's back. Then he climbed up behind her and took hold of the reins.
"Hold on tight," he urged. "I have work to do and so do you. But first you and I… you know."
"Bye!" Melanie cried out to the preacher and their friends, too afraid to let go of the saddle's horn to wave back at them.
That horse wasn't running, but he was trotting at a good clip. She closed her eyes and leaned against Reeve, afraid she'd slip off at any minute. She was also bouncing up and down on Twister's back, making her wince every time her bottom landed hard.
What happened to her romantic wedding? Regardless of the fact that it had begun when he found her in a mail order ad, sporting blisters all over her behind or falling off Twister weren't her idea of making breathtaking wedding memories. Falling off actually didn't seem likely, with Reeve's arms around her.