Sixteen Brides

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Caroline thought about that for a very long time. It seemed like just another instance of Zita being cute and clever, but Caroline finally decided there was real wisdom behind it. After all, if a body let people from the past ruin today, didn’t it do just what Zita said—give snakes more power than they deserved? In a sense, it let them win. Caroline thought back to the old man—her very own father-in-law—scratching at her bedroom door. To Lowell Day’s hands groping her body in the barn. She would always shudder at the bad memories, but even as she acknowledged that truth, she was deciding that Caroline Jamison’s life was not something to be handed over to men like that—that every moment she let them run through her memories was a moment she could have been enjoying life.

  Starting right now, she was going to do everything she could to stop giving evil men from her past power over her present. As she sipped coffee with her friends, Caroline managed a smile.

  “Mama, I’ve told you this before. Hanging pictures on the walls doesn’t turn a barn into a fancy parlor.” Ella reached up to pull the red ribbon out of her hair. “I don’t really even want to go. After what Jeb said they’re saying about us in town—”

  Jeb and Matthew had been camped at Four Corners for the better part of the past week while they dug the fruit cellar. Jeb was trying to talk the ladies into a spring house, too. He had ideas for somehow making a spring house water the garden, and while Ella was intrigued by the man’s ingenuity, she couldn’t help but wonder what Elizabeth Jorgenson would think if she knew the man she wrote to every single week was spending more time helping women homesteaders than he was preparing his own place to welcome a wife. And surely that was Jeb’s intention. Why else would a man be reading love poems like the ones in that book they’d delivered to his door?

  “You leave that be!” Mama said, and slapped her hand away. “It’s a dance, Ella. All the ladies will dress up.” She twirled about in her new skirt. “It’s what women do.”

  Ella caught a glimpse of Caroline and Sally just now coming through their door into the main room. Caroline was wearing her gold silk dress—complete with parasol. The matching hat shimmered against her dark curls. Sally looked like a redheaded blue bird in her dress as she waltzed across the floor. “I’m gonna dance that cowboy’s boots off tonight!” She stopped in midstep and peered at Ruth. “No offense, but do you have to wear black? It’s a celebration, not a funeral.”

  “It’s my best dress.” Ruth sounded offended.

  “More’s the pity.” Sally shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ruth, but don’t you think part of starting fresh out here might include putting off widow’s weeds? Seems to me it’d be a nice surprise for Jackson when he rides in with them cowboys tonight. Why, it’d do him a world of good to see his mama celebratin’ his homecoming that way.”

  Caroline had retreated into her bedroom while Sally was speaking. She reappeared in the doorway holding up a lavender-and-white-striped dress. “What about this?”

  “It’s lovely,” Ruth agreed, “but it won’t fit.”

  “Might be I could make it fit.” Sally reached for the dress. “You’re about the same height.”

  “There is no corset in the universe that will draw my waist up to match hers.” Ruth pointed at Caroline.

  “There’s darts I can take out. It won’t take but a minute.” Sally was already opening her sewing basket and drawing out a tiny pair of scissors. “Be right back. I want the morning light.” She stepped outside.

  “You’ll have to wear it now.” Caroline smiled. “You don’t want to hurt Sally’s feelings.”

  “I don’t have a bonnet,” Ruth protested. “I’ll look ridiculous in a lavender-and-white dress with a black bonnet.”

  Caroline disappeared back into her room and returned with a matching bonnet. “Any more excuses?”

  Sally came back inside and handed Ruth the dress. “No darts. Try it on.”

  Matthew ran his hand along the edge of the notched piece of lumber. He’d hurried to give Martha what she wanted, but he wasn’t happy with the results. Standing up to stretch, Matthew added the last board to the pile in his wagon and drove up to the mercantile to begin assembling the portable dance floor that Martha expected to be the talk of Plum Grove. It would take him and Will the better part of an hour to lay it out, and that was just the beginning. Martha wanted an arbor and a row of lanterns so the dancing could go on half the night if folks stayed. She expected they would.

  Plum Grove’s Main Street was no longer inhabited by jackrabbits and the occasional human. The grassy expanse had begun to give way to wagon ruts and a steady stream of wagons, buggies, and riders. On most days the air was filled with the sounds of hammers and saws as more buildings sprung up along Main, which was looking more like a real street every day. The town even smelled different. It used to be a man could step outside the mercantile and breathe in the pure air of unpopulated prairie. Now the air was just as likely to smell of grease from the dining hall kitchen—or manure.

  Plum Grove wasn’t the only thing changing. As he and Will laid out the dance floor and then raised the standards and created the arbor, Matthew enjoyed having people stop and admire his handiwork. He’d stopped wanting to avoid people. In fact, he liked visiting.

  He wouldn’t linger in the shadows tonight and grit his teeth and think of dancing with Linney as a debt he must pay. Tonight he would delight in Linea Delight Ransom. He smiled at the thought. Delight had been Katie’s maiden name, but Matthew liked the other meaning, too. He did delight in his daughter. And while “delight” was probably too strong for his improved outlook on life at the moment, who knew but that the future might just hold other “delights,” as well.

  He wondered what Caroline would wear tonight. And what it would be like to dance with her. Guiding her around the dance floor and smiling down into those dark eyes of hers just might be another…delight. The thought stopped him in midstep as he carried a piece of lumber from wagon to dance floor. Not because of guilt. But because there wasn’t any.

  Of course, no one asked her to dance. Ella pretended she didn’t care. Seated next to Mama up here on the boardwalk in front of Haywood Mercantile, she had a grand view of everything. She and Mama clapped their hands to the music as Bill Toady led the new musicians in reels and waltzes and jigs until the dancers were out of breath and begging for a break. The accordion player began a slow dance.

  Linney and Martha were serving up a white cake so light someone quipped that they’d better hold it down lest it fly away. Ella stood up. “I’ll get you some cake, Mama. And coffee?”

  “I can get my own.” Mama hopped up. Suddenly she leaned close. “There he is!” She pointed up the street to where Jeb Cooper had just come out of the livery. Reaching into her bag, she brought out a tiny perfume bottle, and before Ella knew what hit her, she’d been sprinkled with lavender water.

  “Mama!” she scolded and waved her hands in the air. “Put that away.”

  Zita made a show of lifting her own chin, touching first here, then there with the tiny glass applicator before she tucked the little bottle back into her bag. “I’m going to see if Martha needs any help,” she said, and gave Ella a little shove in the direction of Jeb Cooper.

  Ella went for cake and ended up in a line that brought her face-to-face with Jeb as he stepped up behind her.

  “Evening,” he said. He glanced toward the front of the line. “Good cake?”

  “So I hear.”

  “And coffee?”

  “Yes.” The little woman in front of Ella glanced back…and up…and looked away quickly.

  Ella reached up to feel the red bow in her hair. She should never have worn this thing. It looked ridiculous. The woman in front of her was likely trying not to laugh. She spoke to Jeb. “I’m getting some for Mama. And me. We’re sitting over there by the mercantile. Mr. Toady made an announcement earlier. He wants to start a town band.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Do you play music as well as you s
ing?”

  Jeb shook his head.

  “Do you dance?” Oh, Lord, just open up the earth and swallow me now. It sounds like I’m asking him to dance.

  Jeb bobbed his head from side to side. Noncommittal. He shrugged. “Only when I have to. Weddings and such.”

  Ah. Weddings. Of course he would be thinking of weddings these days. She gulped. “Well, have a nice evening, Mr. Cooper.”

  Jeb grinned. “You too, Mrs. Barton.” He dropped out of line and went to speak with Matthew Ransom.

  “That’s a bear of a man,” the little lady in front of her said.

  “Who? Jeb? Oh yes,” Ella stammered. “I suppose so.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Oh no…no.” Ella shook her head. “Mr. Cooper was part of the crew who helped when my friends and I built our house.”

  The woman’s eyes grew large. “You’re one of those women from Four Crosses, aren’t you?”

  “Four Corners.”

  “Yes, that’s it. And you brought those cattle rustlers into town tied to your kitchen chairs.” The woman beamed. “Please. Tell me your name.”

  “Ella. Ella Barton.”

  “Mrs. Barton…you’re my hero.”

  And so the evening went. The conversation kept flowing. The music was lively. All in all, everything was just grand. Ella remained on her boardwalk perch with Mama and observed the festivities. She saw Sally waltz with Pete Mills, and Ruth dance with Jackson, who’d ridden in with the cowboys from the Graystone Ranch and looked more grown-up than ever. Matthew guided Caroline out onto the floor, and they were so beautiful together they made Mama sigh. Husbands and wives, friends and neighbors laughed and clapped and enjoyed life under the prairie sky.

  The sun set; the stars came out. The dining hall served a buffet supper, and the mercantile did a brisk business. And all the while, Ella smiled and joked and pretended she didn’t mind that Jeb Cooper was essentially ignoring her.

  What made it even worse was that Jeb did dance. With Mavis Morris, of all people. He was terrible at it, but somehow Mavis had gotten him out there on the dance floor. He stumbled and lost count and finally gave up, just when Ella was about to slip around back and wait in the buggy.

  Mama clutched her arm. “There’s something wrong with Hettie,” she said, and sprang up to weave her way through the crowd.

  Ella followed. Together they made their way to Hettie’s side. She didn’t seem to notice them. She was staring at the passengers climbing down from the specially outfitted wagon the new hotel sent to meet every train.

  “What is it, dear?” Mama said, and reached to take Hettie’s hand.

  Hettie didn’t answer, merely stared openmouthed at the man limping toward them from the hotel. He looked significantly older than Hettie, but no less amazed. He stumbled as he crossed the street, regained his balance, and frowned as he looked from Hettie to Zita to Ella and back to Hettie.

  Finally, Hettie reacted. Clasping Zita’s hand, she ducked behind Ella. That simple act transformed Ella from onlooker to protector, a role Ella accepted willingly. For once, she was grateful for her imposing size. She took a step forward, not saying anything, just taking up her station.

  “Please,” the man said, and motioned for Ella to step aside. But she could sense Hettie behind her. She could almost feel her trembling.

  “State your business, sir. You’ve upset my friend.”

  The man cleared his throat. “Gates,” he said. “Dr. Forrest Gates.”

  “I see. And your business in Plum Grove?”

  “Business? I could ask you the same thing, madam.”

  “You could, but you didn’t. You’ve upset my friend. So I ask again. Please state your business.”

  The man thought for a moment. “My business is with the lady standing behind you. As I said before, I’m Dr. Gates. Forrest Gates. And Hettie is my wife.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

  EPHESIANS 4:32

  Is what he’s saying true?” Zita asked. “Is this man your husband?”

  From where she stood half-hidden behind Ella, Hettie answered, “Y-yes.” Ella stepped aside then, and Hettie felt herself curl inward. Her head went down, her shoulders rounded. This must be what it felt like to be an animal caught in a trap.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Forrest said. “Hettie…I…I’m so sorry. When I got to Denver and Aunt Cora said she hadn’t heard from you—”

  “Y-you’ve been to Denver?”

  “I’ve been everywhere I knew to go.” He brushed his palm across his forehead. “Oh, Hettie…I thought I’d lost you. When I thought I’d lost you—”

  He took a step forward. Hettie took a step back. Closer to Ella.

  “You need to stay over there,” Ella said.

  “And you need to stay out of the business between a man and his wife.”

  “Hey!” Zita pointed at him. “We don’t know you, but we do know Hettie—”

  “—apparently not very well if you didn’t know she was married.” Forrest took another step toward them, only to come face-to-face with Jeb Cooper, who spread one hand across his chest and propelled him backward three steps while warning him to calm down. Hettie took a deep breath and stepped out from Ella’s shadow.

  Ella took her arm. “You need to talk to us,” she said. “Now.”

  “Over there.” Hettie tipped her head toward the darkened store-fronts on the opposite side of Main.

  “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Hettie,” Forrest said. “I’ve never laid a hand on you and I never would. I love you. I want—” His voice broke. “I just want you to come home.”

  Just the mention of the word brought back the searing memory of that house and the last time they’d been in it together. Hettie could see it as if it had just happened yesterday. The black crepe on the door…the chairs lining the parlor…and that small casket. She took a breath and failed to stifle the sob. “I’ll never go back there.”

  Forrest took a deep, shuddering breath and bowed his head. “All right. I can understand that. I haven’t been able to stay there, either. We can go anywhere. Anywhere you say. Just…oh…I’m so glad I finally found you.”

  She felt herself sway and for a brief moment thought she might faint, but Ella grabbed her on one side and Zita on the other, and together they walked her to the edge of the boardwalk and made her sit down.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water,” Zita said, and bustled off.

  Hettie waited in uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, what to do. She wanted to order Forrest to get away from her, to leave her alone, to go away and never come back again. If it weren’t for the new life growing inside her, that’s exactly what she would have done just now. She had no intention of ever going back to Forrest, but the baby made a difference. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.

  “I want you to stay away from me,” she said as calmly as she could. “Yes, you’ve found me, and I can’t deny you’re my husband. That means I have to decide what to do. But I cannot do this tonight. I just can’t.” She leaned into Ella. “Please, Ella. Please…can we go home?”

  She sensed rather than saw whatever it was that passed between Ella and Jeb Cooper. But when Ella put her arm around Hettie’s shoulders and led her away, Hettie felt confident that whatever else might happen, Forrest would not bother her again tonight. He wouldn’t try to follow her home; he wouldn’t try to force her to talk to him. For that, she thanked God and Jeb Cooper.

  Jeb and Matthew came back to work at Four Corners. They put the roof on the fruit cellar and installed a door. They laid in stone steps and put up shelves. At times, Ruth found herself wishing she could go down into that cellar, to cool off and have some time alone to sort out her feelings. Because of the blistering heat and the never-ending work, no one noticed that Ruth wasn’t herself, and she was gr
ateful. The truth was so laughably immature she would have had to lie.

  Just because Lucas Gray had bared his soul to her a few times; just because Ruth had finally realized that Caroline wasn’t the least bit interested in Lucas but was falling in love with Matthew; just because Lucas had put his hand at her waist and blathered on about how he’d changed and realized that “first-sight sizzle” wasn’t real love; none of that meant that Lucas was interested in Ruth Dow as anything but Jackson’s mother and a good friend. It was embarrassing to feel like her middle-aged heart had been broken. It was ridiculous the way she reacted when Jackson told this story or that about his time on the ranch. At times Ruth almost held her breath, waiting for the boy to mention Lucas. Then when he did, she felt foolish for the way her heart lurched…for the way she savored thoughts of Lucas…and the way she loved hearing how much Jackson admired him.

  Tonight, thoughts of Lucas kept Ruth awake as her mind wandered through the tangle of reasons why having allowed herself to be attracted to him was so ridiculous. Thank goodness he had no idea how she felt. She reached under her pillow for the note he’d sent with Jackson—the note Jackson had forgotten to give her until very late the night of the Fourth.

  I have some pressing matters I have to attend to before I can make it into Plum Grove. If they aren’t handled by the Fourth, I hope you’ll forgive me for not showing up. Please send word about the cattle with Pete. Your friend…Lucas.