by Bella Bowen
And a little voice in her head whispered...
Then why can’t you?
CHAPTER NINE
The coffee was good and hot and the aroma circled the room like an attentive old mother making sure everyone at Mrs. Kennedy's breakfast table was satisfied.
The coffee, good and hot, was his reward for making it through the long night without driving himself completely loco thinking about a woman he definitely did not want to take home with him.
Molly Brumley deserved a man who wanted her no matter how skittish she was, no matter what made her skittish. If he didn't have so many like her waiting on him back in Colorado, he wouldn’t have thought twice about considering her. But there was no changing that. He'd spent the morning before spinning images of the two of them leaving Sage River together, but the woman in those images was a strong, level headed woman with no problems of her own to add to his burden.
He'd promised himself. And Samuel didn't break promises to anyone.
Since his conversation with Mrs. Carnegie, he'd tried to imagine what the other Diamond Springs ladies might look like. He'd tried to spin images of them too. But without a face or form to work with, he'd always ended up seeing Miss Brumley in the picture. As the light through the window changed into dawn, he'd finally given up trying. Nothing was going to help until he saw the other women. Hopefully, they'd be memorable enough to help him forget the one in the yellow dress.
He had a hard time finding his appetite, however, until he remembered that the woman in yellow wasn't going to be attending that dance, so she wouldn't be a distraction for him.
He dug into his potatoes and hoped the food would make up for his lack of sleep.
~ ~ ~
Molly was going to the dance.
Each time one of the other ladies mentioned the big event, it had been easier for Molly to agree than to explain why she wouldn't be joining them. The lie felt a bit like the white lies she was forced to tell her pa, but then she realized she wasn't lying at all if she followed Mrs. Carnegie's suggestion of going into town with the rest of them and just sitting outside. There were benches to either side of the town hall doors. It wouldn't look strange to sit there and enjoy the evening air. And if anyone asked, she could simply say she was resting.
For the remainder of the day, she allowed herself to get caught up in the excitement. She took her turn in the bathhouse and waited her chance for Meg's attention—the housemaid who had a talent for hairstyles. Molly had saved back one of the new dresses she'd been given when she arrived on the ranch. It was lovely, fit her perfectly, and her own little lace collar looked stunning against the brilliant blue cloth.
While she waited, she sat and held the little doll's hand, rubbing her fingers up the little palm and back down again. There was no reason to hide her treasures in her room. Her pa would never be going through her wardrobe and taking anything that might bring her too much pleasure.
The man wasn't around to keep her thoughts off Samuel Craighton either.
She fought against the rising hope that he might already be interested in her because once she refused to dance with him, he’d move on to another. He’d spend the evening turning around the floor of the town hall with all the lovely ladies that were, at that moment, preparing to meet him, or someone like him. And he'd chat with them. Share some punch. Share his charming smiles...
Molly shook off the cloud that gathered over her and she told herself, for the hundredth time, that she wasn't going into town to see him. She was going to the dance to listen to the music—something her pa would never have allowed—and if anyone decided to talk to her, she'd remember to keep her posture straight and choose her words carefully.
It was only natural she wanted to look her best simply because she didn't want to embarrass Mrs. Carnegie. Everyone else would be looking their finest and so should she. Never mind she'd be wearing the dress she hoped to wear to her wedding. After all, this was a special occasion too. She was going to take the first step toward replacing some unhappy memories with some happy ones.
Mrs. Carnegie had emphasized how important confidence was, and the dress made her feel more confident than she had in all twenty years of her life.
CHAPTER TEN
As if God Himself had an interest in Mrs. Carnegie's Wednesday night dance, the clouds rolled back and left the empty sky to whatever stars might appear. Not a drop of rain fell as the little train of wagons and buggies set out for town. Phyllisanne, Sarah May, and Sarah Lee shared a carriage with Molly. Both Sarahs were so nervous they beat their fans like the frantic wings of little birds and it stirred the moist air to cause them all to shiver. But Molly wasn't about to stop them. Her nerves were no better than theirs, and she was grateful her pretty dress had a little pocket where she could rub her thumb on the little porcelain hand without anyone noticing. It was a good thing she wouldn't be dancing or the thing might fall out and be lost.
Dusk fell good and hard and merely the idea of staying up after dark just to dance sounded extravagant to Molly. To add to the indulgence, they entered town and were greeted by a hundred lanterns hanging along the storefronts. A surprising number of folks, considering the cooling temperatures, were standing along the boardwalk. They waved and smiled as the carriage rolled by. A glance around the interior showed the other ladies were as awestruck by the sight as Molly was.
“They make me feel like a princess,” said Sarah May.
“Well, eat it up,” Phyllisanne said reverently. “It won't be long before we'll be princesses of our own weed patches and no more.”
Molly laughed lightly. “That still sounds wonderful.”
Sarah Lee gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. “It surely does.”
To Molly's mind, they arrived at the town hall far too quickly. But the crowd followed along behind and the womenfolk pushed their way to the front. Molly wondered why until she saw two dozen faces light up when she and the rest of the ladies climbed down—they'd been anxious to see their dresses.
She exchanged looks with the others in her little group and they all turned and faced the crowd, holding out their skirts and smiling. Two blue dresses, a green, and one russet dress between them all. The looked like princesses too.
The little bit of applause they got went a long way to boost Molly’s confidence, and before she had a chance to think twice about it, she was swept in through the doors along with the rest.
Her heart bounced in her chest but when she was finally able to stop she was in the center of the room. The interior of the town hall was twice as large as it looked from the outside. Long benches ran along the west and east walls. In the rear, there was a long table covered with punch cups and silver plates covered with cookies. The lamps of yellow light were small and hung high above the benches. The streets had been brighter.
Her heart slowed and she realized the reason for her calm was the fact that no men had joined them. Mrs. Carnegie and twelve ladies, even with their wide skirts, did little to fill the near-empty room. But it wouldn't be long until...
She had to leave!
She turned toward the door.
Sarah May stood in her way. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Molly said lightly. “I just need some air. I'll be back.”
She hurried around her friend and headed for the entrance—the two doors still stood open to the night. But suddenly a flow of instrument-bearing men and women poured through. She tried not to panic while she waited for the last one to enter. But then the opening was filled with a bunch of eager-faced, hat-carrying men.
She backed away.
A hand brushed her arm and she jumped.
Fontaine, Mrs. Carnegie's personal guard, stood beside her. “Come on. There's a door in the back.”
Molly didn't have to hear it twice and started moving. She could feel the concern of her friends on her, but there was no time to explain. She just had to get outside.
“We didn't expect you to come inside the first try,” Fontaine murmured as Molly
went ahead of her through the door behind the refreshment table. “But good for you for having a go.”
Molly stepped out into the middle of the road that ran along all four sides of the building. She turned in a circle. No one was near her. No one headed her way.
Fontaine watched her, not concerned in the least.
Molly stopped turning. “So, Mrs. Carnegie told you my...problem?”
The other woman nodded. “Just me, though. She can't protect you herself, now can she?”
Molly's heart slowed again. Nothing to worry over. And it was almost a relief to have someone other than the daunting owner of Diamond Springs Ranch to know about her...difficulty.
“It's the funniest thing,” she told Fontaine. “I never had this trouble at home. If my pa told me I had to dance, I danced. I could never have... I would never have tried to defy him.”
Fontaine nodded, though she watched the area around them instead of Molly. “I reckon you don't take the time to fear the fire until you're safely out of the burning building.” She nodded at the southeast corner of the hall. “If you're going to sit outside, I reckon you'd better sit where there's light.”
Molly followed the strange woman around to the front of the structure took a seat on the far end of the last bench. The bridegrooms had all gone inside. The doors were closed up. The townsfolk had scattered for the most part.
“I won't bother you, Molly. I'm just going to sit up there on the front of the wagon there,” she pointed to a wagon on the far side of the little street that ran along the west edge of the building. “If you need me, it'll take me three seconds to reach you. So don't you fret. You're not alone.”
Molly thanked her with a smile and settled in. She could hear Mrs. Carnegie telling everyone, “You all know the rules, ladies and gentlemen. Please, take your time. Try to speak with as many others as possible. Don't single anyone out too quickly.”
Then another woman's voice called out for folks to partner up for a square dance.
Sets of four couples. They would be short a woman! Someone would be coming to force her inside!
“Relax,” came Fontaine's calm voice through the darkness to her right. “Mrs. Carnegie will take your place.”
That's right. They wouldn’t have an odd number.
An odd number was always Pa's excuse for making her dance with her cousins. There was always an odd number if she sat out.
This time, her heart couldn't seem to slow like before. It was as if her pa was coming up on her.
She jumped to her feet and started pacing, unable to sit still until the square dance came to an end. When a less frantic tune started up, the invisible danger suddenly passed as if it had been a mad hound chasing her, and the moment she thought it had her, it simply passed her by.
The relief of it made her chuckle.
Molly sat down on the bench again and wiggled her fingers in Fontaine's direction, to let the woman know she was doing much better. The last thing she wanted was to inconvenience anyone by insisting she be taken back to the ranch. Besides, she'd lived through the square dancing music. And nothing could be worse than that, for her at least.
One of the doors opened. An incredibly tall gentleman came outside carrying two cups of punch and looked around until he found Molly. Then he faced her and waited.
Mrs. Carnegie had to have sent him.
She smiled and nodded, remembering what Naomi, the Crawler, had told her about the men coming to the ranch, that all of them would be nice.
He approached with a tentative smile. “The boss lady thought you might like a drink of punch.”
Molly took the cup he offered. “Thank you.”
“I'm Ellis Beauregard. Got fifty thousand acres just north of here. Cattle, horses, sheep. Some folks object to sheep, so I thought I'd get it out of the way.”
Molly laughed. “I'm Molly Brumley and I don't object to sheep, sir.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Well, they smell bad, I guess.”
“Would you like to sit down?”
“Much obliged.”
Even seated, Mr. Ellis Beauregard was so tall she had to lean back and lift her chin to look him in the eye.
“I have to admit,” he went on, “when the boss lady sent me out here, I was expected someone...” He shrugged.
“Someone about as pretty as a sheep?”
He laughed guiltily. “Exactly so. And I'm happy to see I was wrong.”
“Well, why don't you tell me about yourself?” Molly suggested.
He frowned, then leaned close. “Did you hear the part back there when I said fifty thousand acres? Cattle, horses, and sheep?”
She nodded. “Yes, but—”
“That pretty much sums me up, ma'am. I haven't got time for much else. Don't go to no fancy operas, even when I’m in a big city. I’m no poet, but sometimes I think the truth sounds pretty damned… Pretty darned good.”
Molly was beginning to appreciate that too. “And your family?”
“Oh. Well, I don't have anyone at all. That's why I'm here. I've worked hard to make something and I'd like to have someone to leave it to.” He turned bashful. “I'd like sons, ma'am. Daughters are fine too, of course. But I would like sons. And then, after I've got a few of them, I'd leave off...uh…”
The man started coughing and gasping. Molly reached up and patted his back, and she couldn't help laughing while she did it.
He finally got his throat clear. “I talk too much, Miss Brumley.”
“You do just fine,” she told him. “If there is poetry in the truth, then there must be a bit of music in honesty, don’t you think?”
He grinned. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He raised his cup and she clinked hers against it, then took a drink.
“Everything all right out here?”
Molly looked past Mr. Beauregard to see Samuel Craighton holding one of the doors open again, letting the noise outside. She hadn’t noticed. He might have been standing there quite a while.
He looked from her to Beauregard and back again. She couldn't seem to make her mouth work. If they ever had a chance to speak again, she had a dozen witty things prepared, but she couldn't remember any of them.
“We're fine,” said the man beside her. “Thanks all the same.”
The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Craighton nodded and went back inside without giving her a second look. Apparently, she hadn't made much of an impression on him the previous day, or he might have come looking for her before Beauregard had.
Once the door was closed, Beauregard had a good belly laugh.
“What's so funny?” Molly said, then noted how at ease she felt with the man.
“That one.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the spot where Craighton had stood. “He's a nervous one, he is. Running around trying to get a good look at all the fillies. He was probably the first one to notice there were only eleven ladies inside. Probably wants to be sure he gets first pick.”
Molly smiled politely, but inside, her heart was taking a beating of its own. She'd been chasing crazy thoughts out of her head for the past day—thoughts like love at first sight, destiny, and true love—and she thought she'd done a fine job stomping them out. That was, until she laid eyes on him again.
And it appeared as though the man hadn't had a second thought about her. He'd glanced over her with no recognition at all. He must have forgotten her the moment he'd left the milliner's shop.
Or had Mrs. Carnegie warned him away?
She shook away the un-Christian thought. The Carnegie woman had nothing but kind intentions for her. If she'd warned the man away from Molly, it would have been because she thought the man wasn't good enough for her somehow. And Molly would just have to cling to that notion. It was much less painful than the alternative, that the man was too good to waste on someone like her.
“Miss Molly?”
She'd nearly forgotten Mr. Beauregard in her self-pity.
“Mr. Beauregard. Forgive me. I'm n
ot good company tonight.”
He rolled his eyes. “You're fine company. I'm just a bit rusty when it comes to making pleasant conversation.” He thought for a moment. “I don't suppose you'd like to go inside for a dance?”
She shook her head quickly.
“I'm not much for dancing myself,” he said. A silent moment later, he glanced over his shoulder at the door. “Since it looks like Miss Fontaine is watching over you, I'll just go on back inside. You keep me in mind, though, won't you?” He was bashful again, looking like a stretched-out version of a shy little boy.
“Of course I will, Mr. Beauregard. Thank you for the punch.”
He took her cup and gave her a friendly wink just before he ducked back into the noisy building.
Just when she started to feel a little lonely, Fontaine appeared out of the darkness. “I've got to visit the privy, Molly. But I don't want to leave you alone out here.”
“I'll be fine,” Molly said.
The other woman shook her head. “I ain't leaving you completely unprotected.” She pulled the gun from her left hip and handed it over. “It's loaded. You know how to use it. Don't you hesitate. If you're not sure a man means you harm, don't take a chance. Shoot him in the leg. At least that will bring help.”
Molly nodded and tucked the gun between her skirt and the bench.
Fontaine lingered for a second, considering something that brought a frown to her face. “It's never just townsfolk, you know,” she finally said. “One bride had to kill a man to keep from being taken.”
Molly didn't know if she believed that or not. Fontaine might just be trying to get her guard up.
“I'll remember. Try not to worry.”
Fontaine snorted, then took one wary look around the town square before she disappeared back into the shadows.
The musicians started playing a waltz and the music seeped out through the wall at Molly’s back. She could almost feel the song lifting her around the room in wide circles. She'd never waltzed before, except for dance lessons at the ranch where they all took turns leading. She worried that if she ever did waltz with a man someday, she’d grab the wrong hand.