Mrs. Andersen’s gloved hands held up her dress, and with her handbag swinging on one arm, she eased her slim form between the tables and chairs, walking toward them with determined steps. She wore a deep blue skirt, its hem edged in brown velvet trim, which matched the ribbons of the bonnet tied securely under her chin. Catharine could tell by the way her face softened when she glanced at Peter that she adored her son.
“Well, Peter. I had no idea that you were coming to town or I would have made sure we could have lunch together.” Mrs. Andersen drew her shoulders up sharply, crossing her hands over her waist. Before Peter could respond, she eyed Catharine and her sisters with one eyebrow cocked. “And who might you be?”
Catharine felt intimidated by the older lady, who stood a little taller than herself with a face that reflected the same unfriendliness as her question. She might be someone to reckon with if given half the chance. Catharine was hoping her own demeanor appeared stronger than she felt at this moment. “I’m Catharine Olsen, and these are my sisters, Greta and Anna.”
“How do you do?” Mrs. Andersen pulled her friend forward. “I’m Clara Anderson, and this is my good friend and the first lady, Mrs. Helen Warren. Her husband, Francis, is the ex-governor of our great Wyoming territory. She and her husband are exemplary leaders in Cheyenne’s society and are charter members of the First Baptist Church.” Mrs. Andersen beamed.
Helen gave a sweet smile and Catharine immediately liked her.
“I’m so happy to meet you. Have you just arrived in Cheyenne?” Helen asked.
“We arrived just yesterday,” she said, clasping Helen’s outstretched hand.
“Welcome to Cheyenne. I hope you’ll be staying awhile.”
Catharine noticed the bright twinkle in her eyes and the warmth in her countenance. “Thank you for welcoming us. We’ve been so blessed by Peter’s ad.” Immediately a dead silence fell on the group, and Catharine wondered what she had said wrong. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy getting to know Cheyenne.”
Peter looked at his pocket watch. “If you’ll excuse us, we were just about to leave. Helen, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, then touched Catharine on the elbow.
“Ad? What ad?” Mrs. Andersen asked. “I’m confused. Peter, maybe you’d better explain.” She glared at her son, blocking their way, then turned to Catharine. “Where will you be staying?” The edges around her mouth grew more pronounced as her lips formed a disapproving line, harboring a slight frown.
Catharine cast an anxious glance at Peter. So he hadn’t told his mother that he was about to marry a mail-order bride? Seems like I’m not the only one with secrets, she thought with a momentary bit of smugness.
Clara nearly tripped over her own sleek high-buttoned heels, streaking past the wide-eyed patrons. They paused with their forks midair to watch her hasty pursuit of the man with three ladies in tow leaving the restaurant. No matter, she ran out onto the boardwalk and saw them walking up the street as if there wasn’t a moment to delay. Maybe there wasn’t, but she intended to find out. Passersby gave her wide berth and several nodded in her direction, but she barely even saw them.
“Peter! Wait!” Clara huffed and puffed and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Peter turned and frowned when he saw her following them. She paused and expelled a breath, then held her hand to her side, bending slightly to quell the stitch there. The three young women waited at Peter’s side, saying nothing.
Drawing closer, Clara adjusted her fancy hat, which had tilted sideways, forced back a stray gray curl, and patted her flushed face with a hanky she took from her reticule. “You didn’t answer my question, and that’s not like you, Peter. Just what did Catharine mean about an ad?” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Now people were staring at her, and she was a dignified lady. She knew how unseemly this was, but she must get the answer to her question.
“Mother, I really can’t discuss this now. We’re on our way to Warren’s Emporium for supplies.” He rocked back on his heels impatiently.
Clara didn’t care for his evasive answer. “Whatever for?”
Peter touched her arm, nudging her back in the direction she came from. “Why don’t you just go on back and have a nice lunch with Mrs. Warren? We’ll talk later on in the week.”
“Peter, I am not budging until you tell me what you’re up to. I am your mother, in case you’ve forgotten.” Clara struggled to keep her temper in check. She loved Peter more than anything the world had to offer. She couldn’t understand why he would shut her out like this. And who in the world were these ladies with their strange accent, and why were they with Peter anyway? “I’m waiting for an answer, Peter,” she said, hands on her hips.
Peter blurted out, “I’m getting married at three o’clock today to Catharine Olsen.”
Suddenly the world around her stood still and the street sounds became distant. All Clara heard was the pounding of her heart in her ears. She pursed her lips, trying to gain composure. “What? Whatever do you mean, getting married?”
Peter took her arm and walked her in the direction of the restaurant, and Clara took a deep breath and shut her eyes briefly when he stopped and spoke.
“I know I should have told you, Mother—”
“Of course you should have talked to me—”
Peter held his hand up. “Stop right there, Mother. My decision has been made, and I’m not going to stand out here and quibble about our private business for all of Cheyenne to see. Catharine has agreed to be my bride.”
Had he lost his senses? “But what about Dorothy? You seemed interested in her, and she has taken quite a fancy to you.” Clara blinked at her son in disbelief.
“I knew you would say that, Mother. But it’s you who decided whom I should marry. I don’t wish to discuss this any further.”
Clara yanked her arm away and said through gritted teeth, “Was I not even going to be invited to this hasty marriage?”
Peter shifted and took a step away from his mother. “I was going to tell you all about it after Catharine and I were married. I knew how you’d feel, and from what you’ve just said, I was right. You would never have approved.” Peter glanced over his shoulder at the three ladies waiting for him on the sidewalk and started backing away. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I must run along now or we’ll all be late. You can meet us at Judge Carey’s office at three, if you are so inclined.”
“Peter, I’m so hurt that you would leave me out of your plans, especially your marriage! Have you no consideration for your mother at all? What about a wedding?” Clara could hardly speak and was shaking inside. Good thing his father wasn’t here to witness this outrageous behavior!
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I knew you would just try to change my mind. Go on back now and have your lunch with Mrs. Warren. I’ll see you at three, all right?” His eyes pleaded with hers and Clara felt the pull in her heart, but she was furious with him. “I don’t know, Peter.” She sniffed into her handkerchief. “I just don’t know.” Clara’s voice cracked, then she walked away.
Peter’s heart felt tight. He did love his mother and he regretted that he hadn’t told her about his correspondence with Catharine. He had been so busy on the farm, and when he was in town to see her, he really hadn’t had much chance to tell her about his life because she was too busy planning it. She wouldn’t have approved in the first place, but now, seeing the slump in her shoulders as she walked away, he knew he’d hurt her. Well, once she saw how wonderful Catharine was, she’d come around.
He forced a smile as he walked toward Catharine. His heart lurched when he looked into her pretty face. “I’m sorry for what just happened, but Mother will come around,” he said with more assurance than he felt.
Catharine’s face was lined with concern. “Peter, you never told your mother about me? I’m not sure what to think. I’d prefer not to be kept in the dark.” Her eyebrows arched on her forehead.
“If my mother had her way in the matter, I would have been a lawyer or statesman instead of a
wheat farmer. She wanted to see me marry someone else, but that just couldn’t work.” Peter took Catharine’s arm. “Now, if you please, ladies, follow me. I’m going to get you outfitted for the rugged West, starting at the mercantile.”
“I can hardly wait,” Greta said with teasing sarcasm. “I don’t believe I’ve ever donned farmers’ clothing before.”
Peter chuckled, but Catharine hung back. Greta and Anna slowed their steps, not sure whether to follow him or not. “Are you sure your mother will be all right, Peter?” Catharine asked.
“I believe everything will be fine. We really have no more time to waste since the ceremony is at three,” he said.
Warren’s Emporium sat diagonally across from the Inter Ocean Hotel. The sprawling three-story structure of stone and brick was the largest downtown structure on Sixteenth Street and covered most of the block just north of the Union Pacific depot.
Following Peter up to the massive entrance doors, Catharine was sure that Mr. Warren had spared no expense on its continuous line of plate-glass show windows to house the displays, which were made even more appealing by the sixty-foot-long skylight. Shopping here would certainly be an adventure, and she felt a tinge of excitement.
Once Peter ushered the ladies inside Warren’s Emporium, he turned at the sharp intake of breath from Greta and Anna. All of them were impressed. Catharine noticed how proud he seemed and enjoyed the looks given them as he escorted them down the aisle.
Catharine paused, openly amazed at the modern store. She’d never seen anything quite like this. Peter went to find someone to assist them, promising that he would return in a flash. Anna and Greta seemed to be equally surprised, and Anna motioned with a wave of her hand for Catharine to hurry to where she stood admiring fine linens.
“Sis, have you ever seen anything as fine as this?” Anna asked, fingering a fluffy towel.
“I don’t believe so, but I have a feeling that Peter didn’t bring us here to check out the home goods today,” Catharine said. She too ran her fingers across the towel wistfully. “Where did your sister go?” Catharine looked around, but it seemed her sister had disappeared.
“I have no idea. You know Greta, she’s got to see everything there is to see.”
Catharine shook her head. “Well, she’ll have to do that another time, I’m afraid. We’re a little pressed for time today. Let’s see if we can find her before Peter comes back.”
Moments later they spotted her talking to a soldier. Was he the same one they’d met when they’d arrived? He looked awfully familiar. Catharine bit her lip, hating to interrupt what seemed to be a pleasant conversation, but Greta was so gullible. She could easily be taken in by a man’s charm, even if she barely knew him.
Catharine cleared her throat, and they both looked her way. “Greta, excuse me, but you must come with me and Anna. We have shopping to do.” Catharine decided that she must sound like a nagging mother. The handsome soldier in his stiff army uniform gazed at her through dark, brooding eyes when she spoke, making her feel like an old maid indeed.
The soldier bowed slightly. “How do you do? I’m Staff Sergeant Bryan Gifford at your service, ma’am.” He smiled at Anna with an admiring sweep of his eyes.
“These are my sisters, Catharine and Anna.” Greta gestured with her hand. “Bryan was the one who offered to help us at the train station, remember.”
Mmm, so they’re already on a first-name basis . . . Catharine nodded at him and said, “Yes, I do remember.” He seemed to be a flirt, and she stiffened, realizing that she didn’t know anything about him. It was hard to trust anyone, and even though they were new to America, she was not accustomed to his open friendliness. But being tall and handsome would appeal to Greta. Especially tall, handsome, and in uniform.
“I’d like to invite you all for ice cream, if you have the time.”
“That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Greta looked to her oldest sister for her answer. “Bryan says the emporium has a café.”
“We can’t,” Anna said. “The ceremony is in less than an hour, Greta. You know that.”
“Perhaps another time, Bryan. We have things to tend to—” Catharine never finished as Peter walked up, along with a woman neatly dressed in a black skirt and crisp white blouse.
“Mrs. Moody is going to assist us in outfitting all of you for the farm,” Peter said.
“You must be Catharine,” she said, holding out her hand. “Peter’s been telling me all about you throughout his correspondence, and you’re every bit as beautiful as he said you would be!”
Catharine smiled back at the middle-aged lady, surprised that she might have been the topic of anyone’s conversation. “Dank U wel,” she told her, not knowing what else to say.
Bryan interrupted. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ll let Mrs. Moody help you with supplies. I hope we meet again soon,” he said, turning hooded eyes on Greta. Greta blushed and waved as he strode to the front door.
Greta turned her attention to the list that Peter held in his hands. “Do we really need everything on that list, Peter?”
Mrs. Moody’s face held a questioning expression as she looked from Greta to Anna and then back to Peter.
“Mrs. Moody, these are Catharine’s sisters, Greta and Anna. They’ll be staying with us for a while once we’re married.”
Mrs. Moody’s face softened. “I see . . .” Catharine knew from the sound of her voice that she didn’t see. “Please, ladies, follow me to the apparel department and you’ll be out of here in no time.”
“I’ll be close by if you need me for anything.” Peter gave Catharine a slight nudge and handed the list to Mrs. Moody.
Mrs. Moody turned out to be quite delightful, taking them under her wing. With one discerning look, she chose the correct sizes for each of them. A pile of various pants, hats, and boots was collected within minutes. She carried the items to the counter to have them wrapped and rechecked the list Peter had given her. Catharine watched as the clerk folded the garments and wrapped them separately from the boots.
“Ladies, I think that’ll take care of the list. Next time you’re in town, I hope you’ll stop by and see our newest selections—they should be arriving any day. And later, when you start a family of your own, we’ll have everything you need for a baby,” Mrs. Moody said.
She couldn’t have known that Catharine’s heart ached at the mention of a baby. Anna patted her sister on the arm, and Catharine felt heat rising in her face as she stared down at Anna’s hand.
Peter’s face turned bright pink, but he smiled and said, “No doubt you’ll be consulted in that possibility, Mrs. Moody.” He paid for the purchases and handed Greta and Anna a few parcels to carry. He carried the boots and gave Catharine the hats to hold.
“Dank U wel, Peter. This feels like Christmas morning,” Anna commented as she took the packages from him.
Greta giggled. “Not exactly, Anna. Remember, these are work clothes for life on a farm.”
“Maybe so, but I for one am looking forward to spending time outdoors,” Anna answered.
“Well . . . let’s hope you’ll still be able to say that after a few weeks of the constant wind and heat we’ll have this summer.”
Peter guided the sisters back to where he’d left the carriage. He squeezed Catharine’s arm affectionately on their walk back, moving rather quickly, Catharine thought, probably in order to keep the ceremony time. She was filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness and wondered if his mother would come and be a part of this. She was surprised that he hadn’t told his mother, and she knew it wouldn’t bode well to start a marriage off on the wrong side of the fence with one’s mother-in-law.
Which made her wonder . . . what other surprises might Peter have, and how on earth was she going to tell him her own secret?
After storing all their packages, everyone got settled inside the carriage and headed to the courthouse. Catharine was disappointed that there hadn’t been time to change her dress, but then again,
so many things in her life hadn’t gone according to plan. Anna and Greta sat in the back while Catharine shared the front seat with Peter. At least the cover helped a little to deflect the sun’s afternoon rays.
Peter seemed in high spirits as he guided the carriage through the throng of people, buggies, and horses around the city streets. “Peter, what do you know of Bryan Gifford?” Catharine kept her voice low, not wanting Greta to hear.
Peter glanced sideways at her. “Not much, I’m afraid. We have an army post here named Fort Russell. Many soldiers come and go, so I’m only acquainted with a few of them.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried about Greta being friends with him?”
Catharine shrugged. “I suppose I am. Her care and Anna’s was entrusted to me after my mother and father died. I need to protect them, and Bryan did seem rather flirtatious, in my opinion.”
Peter chuckled and covered her hand with his, still holding the reins in his left hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about the soldiers. If Greta and Anna decide to stay, I’ll introduce them right proper to some eligible men. There are plenty in Cheyenne. Men outnumber women here and perhaps in most places in the West.”
His reference to her “pretty little head” flattered her. She’d never considered herself pretty with her freckled complexion and auburn hair. And she wished she wasn’t so tall. Catharine had inherited her father’s coloring, but secretly she envied her two younger sisters, who took after their beautiful mother with their blue eyes and flaxen hair.
“Oh, I can’t see them leaving me.” Did he just wince? “But if you can help them find suitable jobs, I would be most grateful, Peter.” She looked over at him, and his eyes were full of optimism.
“Anything I can do to help, Catharine, I will.”
She loved how her name sounded when he spoke it. Softly, almost reverently, which she certainly didn’t deserve.
Laramie County Courthouse was on Eighteenth Street and Ferguson Street, just a couple of blocks from the railroad depot. It was a two-story building with an adjoining structure at the rear. Catharine surveyed the area. “It’s such a large building for a courthouse. Is this where we’re to be married?”
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