Herding Her Heart

by Kit Morgan

  “I thought so. I know Myrakle’s glad she didn’t wind up with him.”

  “I know Myrakle’s glad for who she did wind up with.” Jasmine looked across the room at Mr. Penella and his brothers as they played. Myrakle sat on the piano bench, happily watching them. “She’s with someone more suited to her, I think.”

  “She certainly is,” Cina remarked and turned for the refreshment table.

  Jasmine watched her go. Mr. Redburn had told her about a man he wanted to introduce her to, but from the looks of it he wasn’t here. Maybe he’d introduce her to him tomorrow. She glanced at Myrakle again, then the Penellas. All three were handsome, but her eyes kept lingering on Seth, playing his violin with a grin on his face. They were having a good time.

  Scanning the room, she saw Mr. Adams sipping punch in a corner and watching the dancing. At least he wasn’t dancing with someone else. Why that thought rankled, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure about him, though if he asked her to dance again she’d certainly agree. Maybe he was waiting a dance or two for propriety’s sake. Not that it mattered – the other brides were still dancing with the men Mr. Redburn had matched them with.

  But what if no one else wanted to dance with her the rest of the evening? She didn’t have a prospective suitor, unless she took it upon herself to buttonhole one of the Penella brothers. With a sigh she went to the refreshment table, got a glass of punch and one of the cookies Beans had made.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?”

  Jasmine jumped – Beans had come out of nowhere. “I’m taking a break.” She held up her glass.

  “Best get to work and see about catching the eye of one of them young fellas.”

  Jasmine did her best not to feel defeated. “Mr. McGruder …”

  “Call me Beans – there’s no strangers here. Not after the last couple of days.

  He was right. Ever since they’d arrived Jasmine and her fellow brides had been plunged into a swamp of matchmaking blunders. Beans, an innocent bystander, had taken it on the chin as well. “Well, Mr. Redburn did say he had a gentlemen he’d like to introduce me to.” She glanced at the Penellas again.

  “Uh-huh.” Beans followed her gaze. “Why wait? Seems to me there’s a couple of fine young men on them fiddles.”

  Jasmine blushed. “Yes, I agree.”

  “Well then, go say hello when they take a break.”

  Jasmine smiled shyly. He was only trying to help. “Thank you, I think I will.”

  Beans smiled again, picked up an empty plate and headed for the kitchen to fetch more cookies. Should she help? Who knew how long it would be before the Penellas took a break? She downed her punch, then went to see if Beans needed any assistance.

  Rafe watched the women dance. He could ask another, but when they weren’t dancing they gathered in little groups and talked in excited whispers. They were beginning to enjoy themselves.

  He wished he could say the same. He felt lonely again, and was beginning to realize that he had for a long time. Seeing the other couples made him think of home, his parents and friends. If he wanted a family here, he’d have to make his own. But how was he to obtain a bride in the midst of this mess? Give Chance a break – he’s doing his best, he thought. But his best might not be enough.

  He spotted his dance partner talking with Beans at the refreshment table. She was lovely with her dark hair and eyes, pale skin and beautiful red silk gown. He glanced out the window. It was barely dusk. Chance had managed to throw together this shindig in a matter of hours. Now here they were, everyone dancing and enjoying themselves … except him.

  He looked over again, but both the woman and Beans were gone. He didn’t see her anywhere. With a sigh he left the library to stand in the foyer. Maybe he should go. What was the point of staying? Maybe it was time to try another tactic. Send for a mail-order bride? At least he’d have a chance to write her and warn her of his defect – that way she’d know what she was in for and be more likely to stay. Besides, many times mail-order brides had nothing to go back to.

  He looked around at everyone again, listened to the music, watched the women twirl in their silk and lace. The feeling of not belonging hit hard. It was an old feeling, one he’d grown up with but never gotten used to. Being the preacher’s son made it worse. Thank Heaven he had some good friends. It made dealing with the rest of humanity easier to bear.

  The feeling only got worse when he became interested in girls – it just added a new variety or rejection. His friends could at least talk to them, however ineptly, but not Rafe. Young ladies found it embarrassing to be seen with him. Eventually he became silent as the grave, and finally left Independence altogether. He figured if he went someplace else and started again, it couldn’t be worse – he might find folks who’d see past his stutter and be more interested in what he could do, instead of what he couldn’t say.

  Couples wandered into the foyer and parlor while others continued to dance. After several more minutes, the music stopped and Rafe decided to return to the library. He saw Miss Estes walking toward the double doors on Joseph Penella’s arm and smiled at the couple, who gazed at each other as if they’d been in love for years. Good for them – sometimes love hit like that. He wished it would happen to him.

  A loud crash pulled him from his thoughts. Miss Estes looked confused as Joseph pulled away and sprinted toward the piano. Rafe did the same and heard a woman exclaim, “Oh, dear … Jasmine, are you all right?” But he couldn’t see what had happened, not even on tiptoe – he was blocked by the crowd.

  He heard a whimper followed by, “Mr. Penella, I’m so sorry!” The women parted just enough for Rafe to see the woman he’d danced with on the floor, a broken fiddle in her hands. Tears streamed down her crimson face as she looked at the remains of the instrument.

  Seth Penella pushed his way through the throng. “Miss Hammond, let me help you!”

  Rafe felt envious at his show of heroics. Not that a broken violin posed any danger, but he should have thought to help. Where were his manners? He’d danced with her, for crying out loud. He should be the one to step in. But he knew why he’d held back – after all, how heroic did “Y-y-you poor g-g-girl, l-let m-m-m-me help y-y-you” sound?

  He turned away, shamefaced, as others helped Miss Hammond to her feet. Knowing her family name was small comfort now – she was in good hands without him. He returned to the foyer and again contemplated leaving. If his stutter kept him from helping a woman who’d tripped and fallen, what else would it keep him from doing? Marrying, maybe.

  He felt so angry, frustrated. He’d battled this all his life, left that life, tried to create a new one, but what good did it do? He had a job where he didn’t have to talk much, but he worked alone, lived alone, slept alone. And what kind of life was that, other than lonely?

  Rafe took a deep breath, caught one last glimpse of Miss Hammond being helped by Seth Penella, then left to take some air on the veranda. He needed to decide once and for all if this was worth it.

  Jasmine felt like such a fool! Meet a nice fellow, and what was the first thing she did? Break his brother’s violin! Could this evening get any worse? “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that.”

  Seth helped her up and led her out to the veranda with Myrakle and his brother Joseph. “It’s like Joseph said – we make them. We’ll make another one. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “I can’t help it – I’m so clumsy.” She wiped her eyes. “I must look a mess.”

  “Here.” He offered her his handkerchief.

  “Thank you.” She took it, wiped her eyes, then saw Rafe Adams at the other end of the veranda watching them. Great, first she trips over her feet and his while dancing, and now, when she’d finally learned his Christian name from Beans in the kitchen, this. Did he see what a wreck she’d made of that violin? What did he think of her now? Was he secretly laughing at her like the others probably were? Oh, none of her fellow brides would admit it, but it had happened to her enough times. She was clums
y through and through – chattering, sneezing and clumsy.

  “It’s nice out here,” Seth commented, trying to make conversation.

  She might as well oblige him. “Yes, nice and cool. The days are certainly growing warmer. Back in Noelle …” She looked at him as she felt her nerves starting up. “… it’s nice there too.”

  “Do you think you’ll miss it?”

  “Home, you mean?” She shrugged, not wanting him to know she was still a mess inside. “Who doesn’t miss home?”

  “Why didn’t you stay there?”

  “There were no men to marry.”

  “Oh.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around. This was awkward. She could tell he wasn’t interested in her. He was just being a gentleman.

  His brother Joseph waved at them to follow him back into the house. Myrakle was on his arm, looking like Heaven had opened up and rained peace, love and joy on her. Some people had all the luck. Seth, meanwhile, kept looking away from her, a reaction she knew well. The less eye contact, the less they wanted to be with her. And she wasn’t even talking much …

  Back in the library they followed Myrakle and Joseph to the piano. Jasmine smiled – her friend was going to play! That would brighten her spirits. She’d have to write Father and Mother tomorrow and tell them about the miracle Myrakle was. It was all the good news she had at present.

  Myrakle put her hands on the keys and began to play. Joseph motioned to Seth, who passed over his own violin, and Joseph joined in.

  Jasmine closed her eyes and relaxed as the music surrounded her. She’d never had the coordination to play an instrument, but she loved to hear others. She listened to Myrakle and Joseph harmonize and stood in awe with everyone else. Curious, she looked around and found even Rafe Adams was transfixed. Good – maybe this would make everyone forget she’d murdered Mr. Penella’s poor violin.

  She was determined not to feel like such a misfit, to not let this get her down or dash her hopes of marriage. But after her dancing disaster, Mr. Adams’ silence, and landing on her rear – on Mr. Penella’s violin – would any man present be interested in her? Mr. Redburn’s attempts at matchmaking might be clumsy, but by now it had to be obvious to all that when it came to clumsiness, he didn’t hold a candle to her.

  Chapter Seven

  Jasmine couldn’t sleep, and finally rose early to help Beans in the kitchen. By the time Myrakle and most of the others came down to breakfast, there was bacon, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast, oatmeal and coffee ready to serve. At least the food had improved. Still, a delicious breakfast wasn’t going to make what was sure to come next go away. Jasmine dreaded the mornings after one of her mishaps: the gossip, the jokes, the humiliation …

  She did her best not to listen as the others talked about the men they’d danced with, Myrakle’s beautiful music (okay, she made a comment or two about that) and of course, her tumble. Except that wasn’t the only word tossed around the table – fall, drop, splat, crash.

  Thank goodness Mr. Redburn brought the topic to a halt when he entered, sat at the table and asked, “Do we have matches this morning after last night’s dance?”

  Jasmine looked around the table. Myrakle did and everyone knew it. There were a few other happy faces. Well, good for them.

  “Joseph Penella said he wanted to take me to his ranch today,” Myrakle declared. “But we’ll need an escort.” She stared at Mr. Redburn with an expression of pleeeeease? Unfortunately this started a slew of questions, since the only escorts available were Mr. Redburn and Beans, and at least half the brides needed one.

  Jasmine sighed. She certainly didn’t need one at present, and Myrakle had to spend more time with Joseph if they were to be married. She sat up straight, figuring she could help. “I could go to the Penella ranch and chaperone Myrakle.”

  “You cannot chaperone each other – that wouldn’t be proper,” Bertha declared.

  Myrakle moaned, and Jasmine jumped in. “No, no – Myrakle wouldn’t have to chaperone me. I’d just be chaperoning her.”

  “You, um, don’t think you and Seth are compatible?” Mr. Redburn asked.

  Jasmine’s throat grew so thick it was hard to talk, but she managed to say “No, I don’t think so.” It was much easier to support her fellow brides than to think about getting her own match. After last night, Seth wouldn’t want to be near the disaster she was. She stood without thinking. Myrakle stood with her, a hand on her arm. Her friend could tell she was upset, but it was no use. Even talking for hours on end wouldn’t change how the men from last night saw her as a blithering idiot. Who would want to court her now?

  They left the kitchen, went up to their room and sat on Jasmine’s bed. “Oh, Father, you were right,” Jasmine sobbed. So what should she do now – admit defeat or see if Mr. Redburn was a miracle worker? The only shot she had was if he matched her with someone who hadn’t witnessed last night’s calamity. Come to think, he did tell her he had someone in mind he would introduce her to today … maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give him one more chance.

  Jasmine got up and walked over to the window. Maybe she could explore the town on her own – was there anything wrong with that? Besides, a walk would do her good.

  “I hope Seth does like you.” Myrakle remarked. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were sisters-in-law?”

  A lump formed in Jasmine’s throat. Myrakle looked so happy, so in love. “It would. I don’t think Seth is interested in me, though, but I’m glad for you.”

  They exchanged a few more words before Jasmine left, but for once she didn’t feel like talking. She hated how she’d not only made a fool of herself last night, but that her new friend would soon be gone. She’d become Mrs. Joseph Penella and that would be that. Really, it wouldn’t surprise her if all her sister brides married and she ended up back at square one in Noelle.

  She left the house without telling anyone. She had to get out of there, think this through. She hadn’t left Noelle to end up stranded and single in Bent – she needed a fresh perspective, new ideas. She crossed the street, turned and looked at the Redburn mansion. She’d never seen a house so grand. “I am so naïve. What must people think of me?”

  She studied the buildings around her. Bent was much newer and smaller than Noelle, and the Redburn mansion stood out. Mr. Redburn’s aunt had done all right for herself. Had she had a natural knack for matchmaking, or did she marry into money, have too much time on her hands and took it up? Who knew? All she knew was that her nephew should’ve stuck to cattle. She squeezed her eyes shut. “It could be worse, it could be worse …” She needed to remember that.

  When she opened her eyes she spied Rafe Adams walking down the street. Was he going to the house? No, he went right on past. Curious, she shadowed him down the street and around a corner. Why not – she needed a walk anyway, didn’t she?

  She kept her distance, watching him talk to a gentleman next to a wagon full of furniture, their varnished surfaces gleaming in the morning sun. The men shook hands and Mr. Adams continued down the street, while the other man covered the furniture with a canvas, climbed onto the wagon seat and got it moving. She waited for it to leave, then continued to tail Mr. Adams until he went into a small hardware store. He was in there for a few minutes, then came out carrying a wooden box and continued on his way.

  “What am I doing? I shouldn’t be following the man,” she whispered to herself. But it wasn’t like she had anything else to do, and it was a distraction from her own troubles.

  Mr. Adams’ next stop was a large barnlike building – a shop of some kind? She had no idea what he did for a living - did he work there? Was he delivering something? He still hadn’t noticed her, being intent on getting where he was going. When he didn’t come out after a few minutes, she realized this must have been his final destination. She tiptoed off the sidewalk into the street, caught herself, and walked. “Tiptoeing!” she hissed at herself. “Of all the silly …”

  She reached the other side and read the sig
n on the building: ADAMS CARPENTRY & FURNITURE WORKSHOP. “He’s a carpenter …” She thought of the furniture in the back of the wagon – very nice workmanship, at least from where she’d been standing. Had he made them? Was he the owner’s son? Did they own the shop together? She hadn’t thought of meeting a potential husband’s family until now. Myrakle had already met Joseph’s brothers, and might meet the rest of his family today, provided someone was there to …

  … chaperone! She’d forgotten she had offered, and now she was in another part of town when Myrakle might need her most. Chastising herself, she turned to leave. She was a fool following Mr. Adams like that anyway. How could she have explained herself if he’d walked out of the building and seen her? The last thing she needed was more shame.

  When she returned to the mansion Mr. Redburn was standing on the porch. “Miss Hammond, where have you been?”

  Uh-oh. She swallowed hard, then quickly straightened. After all, what was wrong with what she’d done? “I went for a walk.” She raised her chin, defying him to object.

  He shook his head. “Next time you decide to ‘go for a walk,’ be so kind as to let one of us know. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  She started up the porch steps. “I apologize, Mr. Redburn, I simply needed some time alone.”

  “Well, you won’t be alone for long. I have a gentleman waiting in the parlor to meet you. A fine young man that used to work for me.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Follow me – I’ll make the introductions.”

  Jasmine smiled, then quickly frowned. “Was he here last night?”

  “No, why?”

  She smiled again. Seriously, he had to ask why? “Good. Lead on.”

  He shrugged, went into the house and Jasmine followed. Today was a new day. Now all she had to do was make sure she didn’t make a fool of herself again, including talking the poor man’s ears off.