Herding Her Heart

by Kit Morgan

  A valid point. “C-c-come along, let’s g-g-get you home.”

  She said nothing, only sniffled.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right, ma’am?” the sheriff asked as his deputies handcuffed her suitor.

  “Fine!” she sobbed, yanked her hands from Rafe’s, lifted her skirts and ran away.

  “Poor thing,” a deputy commented

  Rafe stared after her. He’d never felt so helpless, or rejected.

  “Best you make sure she gets home all right, Rafe,” Sheriff Jamerson said.

  Rafe nodded, took a last look at Miss Hammond’s suitor as they dragged him away, then headed for the Redburn mansion.

  Chapter Nine

  “Here you are, dear – some nice hot tea.”

  Jasmine took the cup and saucer from Violet Montgomery and sat on her bed. Violet was a saint in her eyes. She’d been the first person Jasmine found when she returned to the mansion, dust-covered, crying and heartbroken. To think that supposedly nice man Mr. Jennings was a bank robber!

  “Feeling better?”

  Jasmine sniffed back more tears. “A little, thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m glad you found me.”

  “Poor Mrs. Long. She was supposed to meet us at the café. I hope she’s not waiting, wondering where I am.”

  Violet gave her a kind smile. “I’m sure she figured it out. If she got there early, she would’ve seen Mr. Jennings run by.”

  Jasmine groaned, sipped her tea and watched Violet pace the room. “Is something the matter?”

  “I’m a little worried about poor Mr. Crookshank. I hope no one got hurt during the robbery.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that. How selfish of me.” Jasmine shook her head. “I should go back and find out.”

  “No, that’s not your job. You rest – you’ve had a trying day.” Violet headed for the door. “In fact, don’t worry about afternoon chores either. Go read a book, take a nap, whatever you want.”

  Jasmine nodded. A nap sounded lovely. But would she be able to sleep? She was so angry and upset. How did she manage to get so wrapped up with a man whose “new job” was robbing banks? She rubbed her temple. “I’ll try.”

  Violet smiled warmly. “You do that.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  Jasmine set her tea on the nightstand and let herself sink into the pillows. She didn’t cry long, just enough to get the rest of her angst out of her system. She felt stupid, used, and was right back where she started, without a beau. Now what was she going to do? Worse, what was Mr. Redburn going to do, match her with an ax murderer?

  She left the bed, went to the window and stared out. To her surprise Rafe Adams stood across the street staring at the house and pacing, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to come inside. So she wasn’t the only one that wasn’t having any luck. She didn’t think any of her sister brides were interested in him, since he could hardly talk. How was one supposed to hold a conversation?

  She looked beyond him at the other people in the street and the buildings. Despite all she’d suffered, she rather liked it in Bent. Despite being a former boomtown it was relatively quiet, without most of the debauchery left over from fast-growing places. She wondered if it was much like Noelle when it was first founded. Both towns were the sort of places you could daydream about having a big house in town, full of children.

  Of course, her dream had been shattered into a million pieces the moment Colt Jennings ran into her, knocked her over and spilled stolen money all over.

  She looked at Mr. Adams again and saw he was looking right at her. Instinctively she waved, then left the window and sat on her bed, not bothering to see if he waved back. She was still too upset, too angry with herself. How was she supposed to know Colt Jennings was a bank robber? “I’m never going to get married at this rate.”

  She thought of writing her parents to tell them what happened, then rejected it. Her father would come apart at the seams, probably take the first train to Bent, come straight to the Redburn mansion, demand she pack her things and drag her home to a life of spinsterhood. She shuddered at the thought.

  She thought of going downstairs but didn’t want to explain what happened to anyone else. By now she was sure at least half of her fellow brides already knew. She wished Myrakle was here, but her friend and roommate was probably having a great time at the Penella ranch. A picnic with a handsome man was a far cry from what she’d experienced. And as soon as she returned, someone was sure to tell her about the bank robber and poor, poor Jasmine, who couldn’t shut up long enough to realize what a cad Colt Jennings was until he literally ran her over …

  Myrakle would be understanding. She wouldn’t make jokes. The other eight brides … well, she could just imagine the talk going on downstairs. At least her sister brides wouldn’t say what they were thinking in front of her. They were kind for the most part, but she’d dealt with her own foibles long enough to know that no matter how nice a person was, they still had thoughts about her clumsiness, talkativeness and so on. It was just human nature.

  Jasmine distracted herself, looked at Myrakle’s bed and smiled at the thought of her friend having a wonderful afternoon. If she couldn’t be happy for herself and her situation, she could at least be happy for her friend’s.

  She blew her nose and tried to decide if she should go downstairs to brave the onslaught of questions and find something to eat. Instead she lay on the bed and drifted into a fitful sleep.

  She was awakened hours later by a clamor of sympathetic voices and heartfelt sobs. She opened her eyes, saw Myrakle go straight to her bed and fall on it, and tried to wipe the sleep away. “What happened?”

  Violet sniffed back tears, shooed several other brides from the doorway and closed the door. She sat on the bed next to Myrakle and looked at Jasmine. “She was attacked and abducted by a group of disgruntled workers from Mr. Redburn’s old ranch. And … and Dumpling died.”

  Jasmine came off her bed in a flash and sat on the other side of Myrakle. “You poor soul.” She looked at Violet. “How can I help?”

  Violet took Jasmine’s hand and held it tight. “Stay with her. She needs someone with her right now. The dog … he died trying to protect her. He was old, and his heart gave out in all the excitement.”

  Jasmine moaned. To Myrakle, losing Dumpling was probably like losing her child. She took Myrakle’s hand and noticed that she was no longer crying, just staring silently. “I’m so sorry about Dumpling.”

  “I think she’s in shock,” Violet added. “She’ll need all the support you can give her. We’ll all be here for her, but you’re her roommate and her best friend here.”

  Jasmine nodded. Her troubles weren’t a hill of beans compared to what her friend had just gone through. “I understand. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Violet smiled. “I know you will.” She rubbed Myrakle’s back a few times, then stood. “I’ll go fix her some tea. Maybe you can coax her into having some.”

  “I’ll do my best. Thank you, Violet.”

  Violet nodded and left, keeping the curious onlookers outside.

  Jasmine swallowed the lump in her throat. This was terrible. But Violet was right. She was closest to Myrakle and could do the most good. So that’s what she’d do.

  And that was what she did for almost three weeks. Being a preacher’s daughter meant she’d seen her father help others who grieved after the death of a loved one, and often pitched in herself. Taking care of Myrakle proved to be a difficult task, and she gained a new respect for what her father had done for so many others.

  She couldn’t imagine how frightening the attack must have been for someone who couldn’t hear it coming or what her abductors were yelling at her. At least they’d only had her for a few hours and hadn’t … outraged her. That would’ve made it far worse. But it was bad enough as it was, she supposed.

  And it showed. Myrakle hardly left her bed. She didn’t eat or drink some days, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t look at an
yone. It was all Jasmine could do to make sure she didn’t go too long without water. Mrs. Clements came to the house every day, made something special for Myrakle and helped Jasmine coax her to eat or drink it. But she and quite a few others began to worry.

  Others were blessed with the distraction of being on their way to matrimony. Jasmine was happy for them, but was too worried about Myrakle to pay much attention – she hardly left her friend’s side. Any thought of meeting a prospective groom during that time was on the shelf – and after the Colt Jennings mess, she was fine with that. Besides, Myrakle was more important. If things didn’t work out for her in Bent, she would go home, content in the knowledge that she’d made a new friend and helped her through a tragedy.

  Then, exactly three weeks after the attack, Joseph Penella, who’d showed up to see Myrakle everyday, brought the one thing that could finally help her friend to escape from the pit of despair. “Yip!”

  Myrakle looked up, saw Joseph, saw his present, and for the first time in weeks there was life in her eyes.

  “His name is Muffin,” Joseph told her. He’d already taught the puppy a few tricks he’d seen Dumpling do. And he also brought Myrakle a proposal. Jasmine and her fellow brides got to witness it, and happily congratulated Myrakle on becoming a true bride.

  Now Jasmine was about to walk down the aisle at Myrakle’s wedding. She fought back tears, both happy ones for her friend and sad ones for herself. She wondered what it would be like staying in her room alone. The Penella ranch wasn’t far and she could visit, but it wasn’t the same as having a roommate to talk to. Would she get a new one? Would she mind her chatter? Myrakle didn’t mind all her talking. If she did, all she had to do was look the other way.

  “Are you nervous?” her fellow bridesmaid Helena asked.

  Jasmine shook her head. “I’m fine. I just need to concentrate so I don’t trip.”

  Helena nodded and faced forward. The music started, and the wedding began.

  Jasmine watched as Myrakle and Joseph took their vows. It was a happy day, and it wouldn’t be the last. Many of the other brides had fallen in love. It was wonderful to see so many happy faces. Jasmine felt left out, but she’d do what she could to help the other brides. And if nothing came together for her in the meantime, she’d return to Noelle. Maybe spinsterhood wouldn’t be so bad. She’d still have her parents and friends. She could work at the mission, maybe even become a matchmaker herself. She was learning a lot about that.

  Jasmine got appropriately weepy when Joseph kissed Myrakle, and congratulated them along with everyone else. She just hoped there would be some reason for somebody to congratulate her. The odds were looking slim, though.

  One evening after supper, Jasmine sat in the parlor and, after a quick review, realized only three of the original ten brides were left – Abigail, Bertha (she could never think of the tiny girl as “Bert”) and herself. If she was to find someone, time was growing short. If she still hadn’t once the other two were wed, she was going to cut bait, write her parents and head back to Noelle.

  She recounted everyone and their matches. The big surprise was Mr. Redburn and Violet! Though there were hints they were sweet on each other, including how Violet kept helping him with his matchmaking business after they first arrived, and how after the first few days her face lit up like the sun every time he walked into the room. Jasmine giggled at the thought.

  And then there was Cina and Captain Richard Spencer from Fort Wise. And the exotic Esperanza (Espe for short) and Rev. William Gregory the town preacher. Helena and lumberman August Pennington, a widower with three boys, to name a few. She would have to ask Helena what it was like to have an instant family. And of course Myrakle and Joseph. She wanted to make little gifts for each of the couples when she had time. Once she was home, she’d have plenty.

  Once she was home … that wiped the smile from her face. So long as she kept busy, she didn’t think about being alone. But once the brides ran out, it was going to hit hard. The only other person who’d had as much bad luck as she had was Rafe Adams. She hadn’t seen much of him since she began helping Myrakle through her grief, but apparently he’d been introduced to some of the other brides and made a few attempts at conversation. Nothing came of any of it.

  Her sister brides found him nice enough, but just weren’t interested in a man who couldn’t speak to them properly, especially not when they had other men pursuing them. Unfortunately, when Mr. Redburn saw a matchmaking hole to fill, his go-to first choice was poor Mr. Adams.

  She shook her head again. Maybe she should stay long enough to see him married off! That might give her years.

  Bertha came into the parlor and sat. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Jasmine rested her chin in her hands. “What about you?”

  Bertha sighed. “I still can’t believe what Mr. Redburn suggested at supper.”

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You were there – how can you forget? He wants me to dance with Rafe Adams at the picnic. You were listening when he talked about that, weren’t you?”

  “I remember him talking about a picnic and a dance. But not Mr. Adams.”

  “Yes, well, Mr. Redburn still insists I dance with the man. He just said as much in the hall. I can’t, I just can’t.”

  Jasmine cocked her head. Maybe she could persuade Bertha to take a second look at Mr. Adams. A chill went up her spine, but she ignored it and smiled instead. “Let’s have some tea, shall we? Then you can tell me all about it.”

  Chapter Ten

  As it turned out, Mr. Redburn won his argument with Bertha. She agreed to dance with Mr. Adams. The day of the picnic and dance, Jasmine helped Bertha get ready for whatever might happen, keeping the conversation bright and happy. She’d taken her on as her new project – easy to do, as they now shared a bedroom.

  She’d learned some fascinating things about the petite woman from Boston over the last week or so. The most interesting thing was that Bertha loved hot air balloons and the mechanics involved in building and operating them. In fact, what had convinced her she should give Rafe Adams a second chance was Mr. Redburn telling her about a place where she could build one. Did that mean Mr. Redburn had resorted to trade-offs? Bribes?

  Who knew? But if Jasmine could manage to make Bertha the belle of the ball and make sure she and Mr. Adams had a good time, then she could be happy in the knowledge that she’d done her part for both of them. Ever since she’d decided to help marry Rafe off, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And on the other side, as soon as the picnic and dance were announced, she’d decided to loan Bertha one of her dresses. The poor woman didn’t have anything for such an affair – everything in her wardrobe looked ... well, none of it was fit for a party.

  “Don’t worry,” she told Bertha as she worked on her hair the day of the picnic. “When I’m done with you, you won’t recognize yourself.” For starters, she’d loaned Bertha her favorite frock, an ivory gown her mother had made for her last year. She’d also given her some perfume to wear. She talked as she worked, but Bertha didn’t seem to mind. She probably figured it was a small price to pay to be transformed into the Queen of Love and Beauty.

  At some point Bertha asked, “What are you going to wear if I’m wearing your best dress?”

  “Oh, I have a lovely pink gown. It’s not as pretty as the one you’re wearing, but I’m not supposed to be the center of attention – you are.”

  Bertha actually clapped her hands. And when she saw herself in the mirror, she almost didn’t recognize who it was! She looked stunning. Jasmine had outdone herself. They went downstairs and waited for Rafe (she’d gotten used to thinking of him by his first name). Abigail was already there, waiting for Mason Stillwater. Abigail hadn’t been thrilled about the pairing originally – she’d tried to have Mr. Redburn set him up with Jasmine – but the man had grown on her, and now she was looking forward to spending time at the picnic together.

  And Jasmine was going as chapero
ne. At least it gave her something to do. She didn’t feel sorry for herself anymore – she was content to make sure Bertha and Abigail (and Rafe) got married, then head back to Noelle and come up with a new plan. Yes, watching other couples have a good time was difficult to stomach, but she could have a good time too.

  Within minutes, Rafe arrived. “G-g-good afternoon, M-M-M-Miss Hammond.”

  Bertha beamed. Good – she was so happy about her transformation, she forgot she hadn’t been thrilled with Rafe. “Good afternoon,” Jasmine replied. “Doesn’t Miss Langston look lovely?” Then she realized his eyes were still fixed on hers, not his date’s. “Mr. Adams?”

  “Oh, y-y-yes, she does.” He smiled, but still didn’t even glance at Bertha.

  Jasmine winced. For Heaven’s sake, how could he not notice Bertha in a decent dress? Eventually, though, he did walk over to Bertha and offer his arm, and the couple headed out the door, with Violet and Chance. Jasmine and Abigail (who was meeting Mr. Stillwater at the picnic grounds) trailed behind them. They didn’t have far to walk. Violet and Chance looked happy, content, as any newly married couple should.

  Jasmine wondered how the others were doing. She’d see them this afternoon and get caught up. For now she watched Rafe and Bertha. Bertha looked like she was trying to make the best of it, but her smile was genuine. Maybe because he wasn’t talking …

  When they arrived, Jasmine went to work setting up their spot, spreading a blanket in the shade.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Abigail asked as she fixed her eyes on Mason Stillwater.

  Jasmine smiled as she looked at Mason and back. “Yes, it is. The games are about to start – why don’t you and Mason enter one?”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t.”

  Jasmine smiled. “Abigail, I guarantee that within the hour I will talk you into one. I don’t know which one, but you’re entering.”