by Kit Morgan
The next morning dawned bright for both Jasmine and Myrakle. Colt Jennings, Mr. Redburn’s former employee, had been pleasant enough, though he could only stay a short while before he had to go back to work. Still, she managed not to bore him or break any of his possessions, unlike poor Mr. Penella. A small triumph, but a triumph nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Myrakle had planned a surprise picnic for Joseph. Mrs. Clements, a widow from Mr. Redburn’s church and a member of its ladies’ auxiliary, had chaperoned Myrakle at the Penella ranch the day before. If Jasmine thought Myrakle was in love before, she was completely swept off her feet this morning. She and the widow Clements had baked up a storm that morning and Jasmine and her fellow brides got to sample some of the baking at breakfast. “These jam muffins are delicious,” Jasmine declared.
“Yes, they certainly are,” agreed Alice, who smiled at her sister Abigail. “Don’t you think so?”
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Myrakle commented.
Jasmine blushed. “That’s because I get to meet a gentleman later. Mr. Redburn introduced us yesterday while you were at the Penella ranch.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about him, but I’ve been so excited since yesterday.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t want to say anything and jinx myself.”
“Nonsense, you’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll be most attentive.”
Jasmine took a sip of coffee. “I hope so.” She glanced around the table and mouthed the words, “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like there’s no one out there for me.”
Myrakle stared at her a moment before leaning toward her. “He’ll be fine,” she whispered.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” Jasmine took a bite of her muffin. Delicious.
After breakfast the brides went about their duties around the house. When she was done with her chores, Jasmine put on her favorite blue day dress, fixed her hair, pinched her cheeks and hurried downstairs. Mr. Jennings would be there any minute!
“Well, well,” said Mr. Redburn when he saw her. “Aren’t you a vision? Now you and Mr. Jennings get acquainted. There’s plenty of us around at the moment, so I’m not going to worry about chaperonage. I’m sure there won’t be a moment when you’re alone with him.”
Jasmine thought about it. He was right – Myrakle wasn’t heading to the ranch until later, and none of the other brides were leaving the house yet or visiting with their beaus. Mrs. Clements was still around besides. They’d be watched within an inch of their lives.
“Something wrong, Miss Hammond?” Mr. Redburn asked.
“No, nothing.” She forced a smile. After hearing about Myrakle’s time at the ranch last night before bed, she hoped she’d have as wonderful a time with Mr. Jennings. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and she’d take what she could get.
Mr. Jennings showed up promptly at ten, and Mr. Redburn ushered him into the parlor where Jasmine sat waiting. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gave Mr. Jennings a hard stare. “Behave yourself.”
Jasmine gulped. Was he worried the man wouldn’t? Did she have reason to be concerned?
Mr. Jennings sat in the chair opposite. “So, um, Miss Hammond …” He wiped his hands on his pants. “Where are you from?”
Jasmine smiled. Was that sweat on his brow? “From a town called Noelle. It’s about a day and a half’s journey from here by rail.”
“Really? I’m sorry I didn’t ask that yesterday when we met, but I had an important meeting for my new job.”
“Yes, I remember you mentioning it.” She studied him a moment. He was average looking, tall, and downright nervous. “And you’re from here?” She had no problem with conversation, but she wasn’t sure he could take what she was capable of.
“No,” he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “I’m from Deadwood, South Dakota originally.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Deadwood. It’s quite …”
“Notable,” he interrupted, wiping his hands again. His eyes darted to the door and back.
Oh, for Heaven’s sakes, she’d barely started talking yet and he was already checking the exits? “Did you have someplace else you needed to be?” If he wanted to leave, they might as well get it over with.
“No, not at all. I’m just wondering what to talk about. I’m not used to this sort of thing, you know?”
“Neither am I.” She blushed. “But at least we can get used to it together.”
Mr. Jennings smiled and shifted in his chair. “So tell me, Miss Hammond, what does a fellow have to do to impress you?”
At long last! Jasmine smiled, threw caution to the wind and began to tell him.
Chapter Eight
Rafe showed up at the Redburn mansion at 10:30 in the morning. He had an appointment with Chance, who wanted to speak with him about another prospective bride. As far as he knew they were all taken. Part of him hoped they were, so he could move on. He wouldn’t be happy being alone, but he dreaded the situation he’d face with any woman he met. She’d have to love him for who he was as a person, stutter and all, or he’d have to keep looking until he found someone who did.
He hated the rejection. It wasn’t that women didn’t like him – some here in town spoke with him quite often. He listened and they talked. But that was as far as it went. They wanted to marry men who could talk and converse properly, and he couldn’t.
That was why he’d gone to Viola Redburn months ago and slapped down his hard-earned $50 on her desk, with the promise to pay more once his bride arrived. It was humiliating, feeling like he had to buy a woman in order to get married. But Rev. Gregory told him $50 was a small price to pay for a bride – especially one brought to town by Viola, an expert in her field.
Laughter caught his ear as Chance opened the front door. “Rafe! So glad you could make it. Come into my office, will you?”
Rafe entered the house, looked into the parlor and saw Miss Hammond sitting and laughing with a gentleman he’d seen around town but didn’t know. He felt a pang of jealousy, but knew he didn’t have the right – he’d only danced with the woman twice.
“Rafe? You coming?” Chance motioned to a hallway.
“S-s-sorry.” He followed him down the hall and into his office.
“Now, the bride I have in mind,” Chance said as he went around his desk and sat, “is Miss Bertha Langston.”
Rafe sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. “Wh-wh-which one is sh-she?”
“Well,” he said and scratched the back of his head. “She was the one wearing the uniform at the dance the other night.”
“Unif-f-f-f-form?”
“Ah, yes … as opposed to a ball gown?”
“Oh, yes. That n-n-narrows it down.” He remembered seeing a woman that fit that description – she looked like a toy lead soldier. A pretty one, but please, not her … “Th-th-though there was a l-l-lot going on at th-th-the dance.” More than he wanted to admit.
“Yes I suppose you’re right. Poor Miss Hammond landing on Joe Penella’s violin …”
“Is sh-sh-she all right?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Nothing broken or sprained – save the fiddle, of course.”
Rafe nodded but said nothing. It was hard enough talking to Chance with women flitting past his office door. What would they do if they heard him talk? What if he had to give a speech? Perish the thought!
“Rafe?”
Rafe jumped. “Y-y-yes?”
Chance folded his hands on the desk. “I’ll introduce you properly to Miss Langston, shall I?”
Rafe nodded. “R-ready when y-y-you are.”
“Excellent. Follow me.”
Rafe stood and followed the man out the door and into the library. “You have a seat and I’ll go fetch the young lady,” Chance told him.
Rafe nodded, sat in the nearest chair and listened to the laughter and conversation coming from the parlor. Miss Hammond was still speaking with her gentleman. One or two brides wandered into the parlor a moment, came out and gigg
led. Soon five of them were gathered outside the door. They must be playing chaperone. He hoped they didn’t come into the library while he was trying to speak with Miss Langston. The last thing he wanted was an audience.
Soon Chance returned with … oh, dear, it was the toy soldier. Rafe stood and twisted his hat in his hands.
“Rafe Adams, Bertha Langston,” Chase said as he waved a hand between them. “Would either of you like a cup of iced tea?”
Rafe raised his hand, opened his mouth to speak and quickly snapped it shut. If he was going to embarrass himself he’d rather do it alone.
“Miss Langston?” Chance said. “How about you?”
“Thank you, Mr. Redburn. Iced tea would be lovely.”
Chance smiled, turned and strolled out of the room.
Rafe noticed several brides milling around the foyer and hoped he didn’t break out in a sweat. He motioned to a chair and returned to his own, deciding to just get this over with. He wasn’t attracted to her – though pretty she looked like he might break her by accident – and in five seconds she wouldn’t be attracted to him. “S-s-so, Miss L-L-L-L-L-Langston, t-t-tell me ab-b-b-bout yourself.”
She stared at him, eyes wide.
Rafe sighed. Well, it wasn’t like it was a surprise to him, and she wasn’t the only woman available. With any luck, at least one of Chance’s charges would take a shine to him. He hoped.
Jasmine had seen Mr. Adams cross the foyer and disappear down the hall with Mr. Redburn. They were probably going to his office to talk. Like her, he still wasn’t matched, but if her conversation with Mr. Jennings kept going the way it was, she might have her man.
He was pleasant enough, and good-looking in an emaciated sort of way, though not as handsome as the Penella brothers or Mr. Adams. He was listening to her, and didn’t seem to be bothered that she was talking so much – in fact, he was comfortably holding his own. She just wished he wouldn’t keep glancing at the door as if he expected someone to walk in on them at any moment. Not that people hadn’t been walking in on them, but it was like he was afraid a wild animal might come and attack him.
“… And I want to build me a big house,” he was saying. “I’ve always wanted a big house.”
Jasmine smiled shyly. “Because you want a lot of children?”
He blanched. “Oh, um, I hadn’t really thought much about younguns. But I have a lot of friends. I always like it when friends come to visit, don’t you?”
Jasmine nodded. “Of course. But … what about children?”
He chuckled. “Well, I suppose if we get hitched I should think about them, huh?”
“Well, yes, it is part of having a family…” Okay, that was a concern. “You sound like you have a lot of big dreams and ideas, Mr. Jennings.”
He waved a hand around and grinned. “Aw shucks, Miss. Hammond, I got ideas about all sorts of things. In fact, my friends are always asking my opinion on their ideas to see if I can think of anything better.”
She grinned. Now this was encouraging. “Tell me about them.”
“Oh, you know, like how to crack the combi … er, like, stuff to do with banking, or commerce. They seek my advice a lot.”
She continued to smile. So he had some business ventures going – that was a good sign. “I’ve always wanted a big house too. It would be fun to entertain a lot of friends. We have that in common.”
He smiled back. “We sure do.” He wiped his palms on his pants again, for the first time in a while – he must be nervous again. “Miss Hammond?”
“Yes, Mr. Jennings?”
“Heck, you can call me Colt.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. They were getting along fine. “All right. And do call me Jasmine.”
He grinned again. “That’s fine. What I started to say was, would you do me the honor of having lunch with me?”
Hallelujah, I hooked one! “Why, I’d love to. Are you thinking of today?”
He nodded. “Is that too soon?” He glanced at the door again.
“No, not at all. Did you want to leave right now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I keep looking at the door because I have a business appointment and I don’t want to be late. And I’d like to have lunch with you today on account I might have to leave town for a spell on account of my new job.”
“Leave town?” She couldn’t mask the disappointment in her voice.
“Oh, just for a few days.”
He face brightened. “I see. You could come back and have lunch here after your appointment …”
He nodded and wiped his hands vigorously. “How about I meet you someplace? There’s a café down the street from the bank. That will give me a little extra time in case my, uh, meeting runs over.”
“All right. I’ll speak with Mr. Redburn and make arrangements for a chaperone.”
“Wonderful.” He stood and offered his hand. “Well, here’s to seeing you later.”
Jasmine put her hand in his, but instead of helping her up he shook it. When he let go, she stared at her empty palm a moment. “Until lunch, then.”
He nodded nervously, turned and scampered out of the parlor. Within seconds she heard the front door open and close. She went to the window and saw him dart across the street and down the sidewalk. “My, he’s in an awful big hurry. He could have said he was running late.”
She shook her head, left the parlor and went to find Mr. Redburn. She couldn’t wait to tell him about her invitation to lunch. Mrs. Clements would be busy with Myrakle this afternoon, so she hoped Mr. Redburn would be able to find someone else to chaperone on short notice.
She heard voices from the library and turned that way. Mr. Adams was talking … wait. What was he saying? She moved to one side of the door so she wouldn’t be seen and listened.
“… Th-th-that’s v-very interesting, Miss L-L-L-Langston.”
Good grief! Was the man that nervous? Or … oh, was that what Myrakle had said about him? Did he stutter?
She peeked around the door and saw the horror on Bertha’s face, like she’d rather be chewing glass than sit across from Mr. Adams. He didn’t look too thrilled to be with her either.
Jasmine shook her head as she headed for the stairs. No wonder Myrakle wanted nothing to do with him – how could she ever understand the man? And no wonder he hadn’t said a word to Jasmine at the dance. He was probably ashamed of his stammer and trying to hide it. But he could make himself understood well enough, however haltingly. Maybe he’d been picked on for it. Either way, he wasn’t making a connection with Bertha, that was clear enough. The poor fellow.
Jasmine stopped halfway up the stairs, turned and ran back down – she’d almost forgotten to speak to Mr. Redburn! She was so excited about her upcoming lunch with Mr. Jennings, she wasn’t thinking straight. She took a deep breath, patted her hair and went down the hall to his office. At long last, things were finally going her way. Hopefully things would work out for Mr. Adams, and for Bertha.
Bertha Langston was polite and cordial and answered his questions. Rafe wished she’d just tell him to leave.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t interesting, or intelligent. She was raised in Boston, was twenty years of age and had numerous interests, including, to his amazement, hot air ballooning. But after she informed him of this, she began to stare at anything but him. He didn’t have much to say on the subject and didn’t want to try. She knew nothing about carpentry, so telling her about his business was difficult at best. Soon they’d both given up and were avoiding eye contact – him especially, as while she was twenty, to him she looked twelve.
It was time to put an end to their mutual suffering. “I’m s-s-s-sorry, Miss L-L-Langston, but I m-m-must be going.” He stood and offered her his hand.
She took it and he helped her from her chair as her face lit up. “Really? Oh, I mean … that’s too bad.”
“Good d-d-d-d … until we m-m-meet again.” He bowed. Women liked that, and not many men did it in the West. His mother had been raised well a
nd taught him Eastern manners.
She smiled weakly, curtsied and walked with him to the door. Was she offering to see him out or just hurrying him on his way? Well, it hardly mattered. This wasn’t going anywhere except the door. He hoped Chance could find her – and him – someone else. They reached the foyer, she nodded in parting … and scurried up the stairs like a wolf was after her.
He sighed in resignation and headed for the front door. He had a few errands to run before he returned to the shop, so he might as well get them done now. And maybe he’d take a little walk first. The fresh air would do him good and give him a chance to recover from his meeting with Miss Langston. He left without bothering to speak to Chance. What was the point? Two brides down, and from the looks of things, all the rest were taken.
Rafe took that walk, did his errands, and decided to go to the café by the bank for lunch. He was about to cross the street when he saw Miss Hammond heading down the sidewalk ahead, also toward the café. His heart sank. Was she meeting the man she’d been speaking with at the house? He thought of crossing the street to say hello … no, he didn’t need another debacle on an empty stomach …
A man ran down the sidewalk past him, carrying something Rafe couldn’t identify. Wait, was that Miss Hammond’s suitor? He ran into the street, and Rafe saw what was coming. “L-l-l-look out!” he yelled.
But he was too late. Miss Hammond’s suitor ran smack into her, sending them both sprawling. Several bags flew from the man’s arms to fall around them. One of them opened, spilling paper money all over the place.
Her suitor cursed and they began arguing, even as the man was trying to get up to run. He almost did, but Rafe, running over to aid Miss Hammond, blocked his escape – just in time for Mr. Crookshank the banker, Sheriff Jamerson and a couple of deputies to catch up. They soon had the young man in hand and were gathering up the bags and loose money.
Rafe helped Miss Hammond up amidst the tumult. “Are you all right?”
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Do I look all right?!”