by Bella Bowen
Unfortunately, she hadn’t seemed to make much of an impression on him. Perhaps she’d be no more of a memory to him than a woman in a wide yellow hat. The hat he would be able to remember, she was sure of it.
As if some bell had been rung, the ladies rose together from the breakfast table and Molly joined the nervous throng back to Stoddard House, the large, three story house where the brides resided. An equally imposing building across to the east was Tucker House where Mrs. Carnegie’s substantial staff and workers lived. Beyond them both stood a large barn, and Molly was tempted to wander off and hide there instead of returning to her room. But the procession swept her along with them like an insistent tide.
Back in her room, she picked up the book she’d been reading and sat in her upholstered chair. She heard her heart thumping in her chest, distracting her from the words on the page. Her heart stuttered, then stopped, then resumed its heavy beating. She breathed a relieved sigh when she realized it wasn’t her heart at all, but Sarah May’s shoes pacing back and forth in the room above.
A minute later, her own shoes joined in the dance that was likely going on in eleven other rooms of Stoddard House.
A knock sounded and all pacing stopped. Molly tip toed back to her seat and picked up her book again. She tried not to listen. Mrs. Carnegie’s voice was little more than a murmur somewhere on the second floor.
A door closed. There were steps along the hall. Another knock.
The child in her demanded that Molly run upstairs and see who the woman was inviting, but she shooed that child away so she could concentrate.
The third knock came from just above. The woman’s voice was clearer. “Sarah May, would you please join me for tea this afternoon at Mrs. Kennedy’s?”
Sarah May’s voice was little more than a whisper, a brief thank you.
The footsteps moved on. Another knock. Another murmur.
Four women from upstairs then. How many had gone to tea the previous week? Back when Molly had yet to graduate, the little ritual seemed a silly thing. She’d always thought it a better idea for Mrs. Carnegie to simply announce at breakfast who had been asked for. But now that she was one of those waiting for an invitation, she realized why the woman did it—so those without an invitation wouldn’t be embarrassed in the face of so many others’ celebrations.
It was only natural, wasn’t it, for her to want to be invited?
The knocking continued along a distant hallway, then faded altogether. Molly tried to make the words on the page make sense while time ticked away. She read through a long paragraph, then read through it again. What was happening in the story wasn’t nearly as interesting as what was happening in the house around her and she finally set the book aside.
Hurried footsteps in the hall upstairs. Two women squealing with excitement. Sarah May was sobbing quietly. Then all fell quiet again when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Then down the hall. Another knock.
“Phyllisanne, would you like to join me for tea this afternoon at Mrs. Kennedy’s?”
“Oh, please,” her friend replied, “can’t you give me a hint about the man who asked for me?”
Mrs. Carnegie laughed and closed the door.
More footsteps. They paused in front of Molly’s door, then moved on.
She didn’t know what to feel. Did she celebrate that she wouldn’t need to go into town and face Mr. Beauregard, or some other man, and play the game she no longer wished to play? Or did she stay in her room and hide from all those others so they didn’t immediately realize no man had found her good enough?
More knocking next door. Sarah Lee’s room. Molly could at least be happy for her. Perhaps her friend would be able to eat now that she knew she’d been chosen. Maybe she even had an idea which man was interested in her. Lucky girl. Sweet, deserving, lucky girl.
And maybe she’d be lucky too if, one day, she found the gumption to join the dancing. After all, her pa and cousins were being sent away and there was no question in her mind her pa wouldn’t throw good money after bad just to come back and try again. She’d known the very moment understanding had dawned on him. He’d realized she’d changed and he was never going to be able to change her back. It’s why he’d gone along—not because of Fontaine’s gun, but because he’d needed to collect Stalton and Ridder before he left town. He might not get his daughter—or rather, his slave—back, but he wasn’t about to give up the two young men that did all his farm work for him. She almost felt sorry for the boys, but she figured one day they’d smart up and get away too.
Someone knocked on her door and opened it before she’d invited them in. Mrs. Carnegie’s head poked around the edge. She smiled when she found Molly.
“May I come in?”
Molly nodded and braced herself for whatever consolation speech the woman was prepared to give. She stood and offered the woman her chair, then sat on the side of the bed.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Carnegie sat, still smiling. “I was wondering, Molly, if you would mind…joining me at Mrs. Kennedy’s…this afternoon…for tea.”
With the words said out of order, it took Molly a few seconds to understand what the woman said. Then, without warning, her body began to shake. While she was trying to understand the tremors, tears poured from her eyes.
She held up her hands and looked at Mrs. Carnegie. “I don’t know why I’m…”
“Of course you’re crying,” the woman said sweetly. “You’re relieved you were chosen. It’s a normal reaction, my dear. But you should take a few deep breaths. Can you do that?”
Molly nodded and pulled as much air into her lungs as would fit. After she’d repeated the process two times more, her body stopped shaking. She didn’t believe what she’d been feeling was remotely normal. Crying for joy, she understood, but the shaking was something else altogether.
“Can you keep a secret?” Mrs. Carnegie whispered so quietly, Molly nearly missed it.
“I can,” she whispered back.
“I find myself breaking my rules for you again, Molly. But it is my opinion that you should know who asked for you. I don’t think it would be fair for you to go into town without being forewarned. Especially when Mr. Craighton might have given you reason to hope…”
“Yes. Please. I’d like to know.” Just the sound of his name made her shiver.
Mrs. Carnegie nodded. “It was Mr. Beauregard.”
Molly smiled, but her eyes filled up with tears again. She took the handkerchief from the little table beside her and wiped her eyes before they had a chance to fall.
“He’s a nice man,” she said. “But—”
“Do you like him?”
“Yes, but—”
“Would you like me to tell him you are not interested?”
“No. No, of course not.” At least she wasn’t disinterested. After all, he’s the kind of man she’d expected to marry a mere two days ago. But she also wanted to be truthful with the man. Only she wasn’t quite sure what that truth was.
“Perhaps you’re feeling too overwhelmed with all the excitement last night, and your father going away today…”
Molly nodded and gave a little prayer of thanks that at least Mrs. Carnegie, the woman she had trusted with her life, was able to think clearly that morning.
“So what would you like me to tell Mr. Beauregard?”
Molly thought for a moment, then spoke carefully. “Tell him I’m not sure what it is I want, so it wouldn’t be fair to give him false hope. But I thank him for his kindness.”
The other woman smiled and nodded, but then leaned forward and placed her hand on Molly’s knee. “You do know there is a chance he’ll choose one of the others and not wait a week to be able to court you again.”
Molly took a moment to truly consider that. What surprised her was the idea of Mr. Beauregard with another bride on his arm didn’t make her feel jealous at all. The idea of Mr. Craighton even dancing with another had twisted her heart. And she didn’t have to turn it all over and over again to know what
that meant.
Her heart was set on Samuel Craighton.
Mrs. Carnegie kept talking. “Now that Mr. Craighton is leaving empty handed, we’ll still have enough brides to go around, even if everyone was set to marry this week—”
“Pardon me. What did you say?”
“I said even if you don’t come to tea, there will be enough brides to go around because we’re also short one bridegroom.”
“Mr. Craighton left?”
“Last night, he told Mrs. Kennedy he’d be leaving this morning.” The woman sat back, folded her hands in her lap, and lifted her brows.
Molly sat back, feeling like she’d just taken a blow to the chest from her pa. She was numb. But she was also relieved the man wouldn’t be sitting down to tea with anyone else that afternoon.
“Apparently, Mr. Craighton has something to do with my feeling overwhelmed.” She said it to herself as much as to Mrs. Carnegie.
The woman nodded, her brow furrowed with pity. “I feared he would. And I’m sorry.”
The fog lifted from Molly’s future path and Samuel Craighton was missing from it. With the knowledge that he was either going, or already gone, from Sage River, she was heartbroken. After meeting the man only two days before, she was embarrassed to find herself captivated by just the thought of him.
And now he’s gone.
She wanted to crawl into bed and not think of anything at all for a good long while, but that didn’t answer the question of Mr. Beauregard. The gentle giant was still interested in her, but was she ready to place him into the picture Samuel Craighton just vacated?
She sighed silently.
She was not. But she felt that dismissing him out of hand would be foolish.
“How long does it take to get over a broken heart, do you think?
Mrs. Carnegie stood and heaved a rueful sigh that made Molly think perhaps the woman had suffered a broken heart or two. She’d been told the woman had buried two husbands. Perhaps she’d loved them.
“Sometimes weeks. Sometimes years. Some, never.” Mrs. Carnegie walked to the door.
“Tell Mr. Beauregard,” Molly said, “that if he doesn’t find someone to suit him, either this week or next, that I’ll be happy to have tea with him.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Samuel continued to search his hotel room. He was forgetting something. He knew it.
A little voice in his head suggested the thing he was looking for was a certain young lady wearing a blue dress and white lace collar, but he knew that voice was lying. Miss Brumley was lost to him.
Finally, he gave up searching, grabbed his saddlebags, and left the room. He stomped down the stairs until he heard a woman’s voice. Then he corrected his manners and tread more carefully. At the last turn in the stairs, he paused. The voice was familiar. It belonged to that female guard of Mrs. Carnegie’s.
“The boss asked me to tell you, Mr. Beauregard, that if you don’t find a woman to suit you, either this week or next, Molly’ll be happy to join you for tea. But like I said, she won’t be coming today.”
“Tell Miss Molly I understand,” the man replied. “I had no idea that devil was her own kin. I’m happy to join the others for tea this afternoon, but I’m willin’ to put off my plans for a week. I’d like to try again to win over Miss Molly before I take a serious look at one of the others.”
“I’ll give the boss your message,” Fontaine said. “I won’t say anything to Molly though, while she’s takin’ a rest. You can be a nice surprise for her next week.”
Samuel turned and started back up the stairs before he realized he’d made the decision to stay. If Beauregard wasn’t sure Molly would marry him, Samuel still had a chance. He only hoped Mrs. Kennedy hadn’t promised his room to someone else.
~ ~ ~
Samuel showed up for tea that afternoon and Mrs. Carnegie gave him the stink-eye.
“I had word you were leaving town this morning, sir,” she said by way of greeting when he joined the crowd in the foyer.
“Someone must have misunderstood,” he said, then offered the woman his elbow. It was pretty brave of him considering she looked willing and able to sink her teeth into the meatiest part of his arm.
Mrs. Carnegie, it seemed, did not approve of him. But that only demonstrated she had a fine sense of a man’s character. After all, he didn’t deserve to win over Molly Brumley, but he was certain he could earn her forgiveness, given time.
Samuel slowed his pace, and thus Mrs. Carnegie’s, allowing the rest of the would-be brides and grooms to precede them into the dining room.
He lowered his voice. “I’d like to apologize, ma’am. I was a fool where Miss Brumley was concerned, and behaved like a…”
“Jackass? I believe that’s the word you’re looking for, Craighton.”
“Just the word. Thank you.”
She took her hand from his elbow and stepped back with a little curtsy. To the rest of the room, she was all manners. “I’m not inclined to forgive you. And I believe Molly has gone on to conquer the heart of a man who will always treat her well, not just on days he’s not inclined to be a—”
“Jackass?” He grinned.
She grinned back. “Just the word.”
The woman moved to the end of the table where Beauregard towered over her even while bent in half to pull out the woman’s chair.
Samuel did his best the charm the crowd as a whole despite the narrow looks from Mrs. Carnegie. He hoped that one of the ladies might mention him to Molly so she knew he was still in Sage River and more importantly, he wasn’t courting anyone at the table that day. It was the only message liable to reach her since he was not allowed on the ranch, and any letter he might try to send Molly would be waylaid by the Boss Lady, as Beauregard called her.
In a strange twist of fate, he and Ellis Beauregard ended up spending the better part of the week together. They played cards at the saloon to pass the time. They walked the streets of Sage River to stretch their legs, and since both of them were staying at the hotel, they ate each meal at the same table. And surprisingly, they were able to converse just fine without any mention of Diamond Springs.
The devil of it was, Beauregard was a good man. Any woman, including Molly, would be lucky to have such a husband. But Samuel wasn’t about to give up, even if he felt like he was a lesser man in comparison.
In any case, Beauregard was a bit on the thin side. And he wasn’t just tall, he was too tall. And though Samuel spent a lot more time praying than usual that week, mostly he prayed that Molly Brumley had an aversion to unusually lanky men.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The week passed like a cold and dreary cloud full of rain it couldn't seem to shed. Oddly enough, it was just what Molly needed—an excuse to wrap up in blankets, forget about her troubles in exchange for the drama played out on the pages of the books she read. When her eyes grew tired from poor lighting, however, she had plenty of time to think things through.
She'd never really had time to think about her pa since she'd arrived. Grateful for the chance at any education, she'd jumped whole-heartedly into her classes. Since she already knew how to read, thanks to the pastor's wife, she'd been able to learn other things quickly and graduated in no time. And that hadn't left much time for grieving. Fontaine told her sometimes you have to grieve for a thing before you can be free of it. So Molly decided to test that idea, anxious for anything that might help her stop fretting over the father she hoped never to see again.
She'd tried to cry over it all, but all she regretted were the years she allowed the man to bully her. She might have gotten away long ago, maybe as young as fourteen, if she'd have found the courage sooner. But back then, there'd been no Diamond Springs Ranch to run to. And she might not have been fortunate to meet the same kind of people as those in Sage River.
John Brumley was a liar. And shame on her for believing him when he said she wasn't good enough to be mingling with folks at church, or folks in town. Of course he was a liar. If he were an h
onest man, he wouldn’t have spent all day insisting he was.
But why could she see some lies and not others? She wasn't good enough, but he wanted her back? She was worthless, but he couldn't do without her? It didn't make sense.
Samuel Craighton had been similar, but opposite. He'd made her feel lovely, then made her feel invisible. Maybe all men were of two minds on everything.
But not Ellis Beauregard. Simply spoken. Flattering, but straight forward. When Ellis Beauregard said he thought you were pretty, it was because he thought you were pretty.
It had been Mrs. Carnegie's biggest wedding week ever. Eight brides had been offered for, and eight brides had accepted. Molly had attended the ceremony because she'd gotten to be friends with Phyllisanne, Sarah May, and Sarah Lee, all of whom were married on Saturday. But Beauregard hadn't been among the eight bridegrooms. And from what Molly had overheard, it sounded like three men were staying on another week. Hopefully, one of them was him.
Mrs. Ellis Beauregard.
It was a respectable name. And if his head wasn't turned by one of the newly graduated brides at tomorrow’s dance, that might be Molly's new name.
Mrs. Ellis Beauregard, whoever she turned out to be, was going to be a very lucky woman.
Molly sighed and reached for a handkerchief...just before she melted into a puddle of tears.
~ ~ ~
Thank Heaven for cucumbers.
The swelling around Molly's eyes went down by morning. The little cucumber slices she'd placed over her eyes before she'd gone to sleep were wilting next to her pillow when she'd risen, but they'd done their duty before they'd fallen from her face.
It was Wednesday. And Molly had decided she was finished weeping for good. And she was finished hiding.
Her father and cousins were gone. She knew how to defend herself if necessary. There was no reason she couldn't go to the dance and act like a normal body. If someone tried to hold her too tight, she'd grab his thumb and twist until the man got down on his knees and begged her to release him. Just as she'd been taught.