by Shirl Henke
As she descended the long flights of stairs to the front hall, Carrie heard voices, her aunt and uncle, her two cousins and another male voice, an unfamiliar one. When Charity had come to tell her to wear her new dress for dinner, a strange light of excitement had shone in her usually lackluster eyes. Was it something to do with this stranger?
Quietly she walked to the walnut sliding doors that divided the front parlor from the hall. The unknown man was tall and lean. Carrie judged him to be around fifty or a little older. She was sure he had once been handsome, but now his face was harsh and bitter, set in cruel lines. His hair was still golden, except for the encroachment of gray at the temples, and his face was darkly tanned by the sun. Fleetingly she compared it to Gerald's blond pallor, Gerald who never ventured outdoors. It was obvious this man had spent a lifetime under a merciless sun.
Her scrutiny was suddenly interrupted when Aunt Patience caught the glimmer of Carrie's bright green gown from the corner of her eye. “There you are, tardy girl.” With a falsely fond smile, she glided over to take Carrie's arm and escort her into the big, cluttered room, filled with bric-a-brac and expensive Victorian furniture.
“Carrie, I would like for you to meet my dear cousin, Noah Sinclair, from Montana Territory. Noah, here is Carrie.” Was there just the faintest touch of veiled meaning in the way she worded the introduction?
Uncertainly, Carrie smiled and made her curtsy. Noah's cold blue eyes seemed to rake her with a scorching fire from head to foot before he spoke.
“I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long time, my dear.” The lips smiled, but the glacial eyes did not.
Carrie's puzzlement changed to alarm and a prickly warning inched its way up her spine when she glanced from Noah Sinclair to Charity. Her cousin looked as if she had just been selected Veiled Prophet Queen of 1880, the highest debutante honor in St. Louis. Why should Patience and Charity want this stranger to meet her? Carrie could not remember her aunt ever mentioning a cousin from some godforsaken place in the Far West.
Later that night, as Carrie passed the library on her way upstairs, she heard the voices of her Uncle Hiram and Mr. Sinclair. Dinner had been an agony of strained conversation, with her aunt's cousin contributing little to lighten the tense atmosphere. Charity and Faith were their usual coy, fluttery selves. Noah mostly ignored them, concentrating what little attention he gave to the women on Carrie and Patience. Her aunt's deference to the man was almost nauseating to Carrie.
Sinclair answered questions in monosyllables or with forceful opinions if his interest was piqued by a particular query. When Hiram mentioned the railroad's progress into the West and intimated it could not go as far north as Montana, Noah immediately interrupted to pronounce that a line would be completed to Miles City within the year. Carrie felt that Noah Sinclair was a man well accustomed to getting his way, and probably quite ruthless when crossed.
After a miserable night spent tossing and turning, Carrie awakened early to the sound of hard spring rain dashing against the glass panes of her window. Unable to fall back asleep, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, preparing to arise and slip downstairs for an early breakfast in the kitchen. As often as possible she avoided formal meals with her relatives, preferring the kinder company of the cook and gardener. She especially wanted to avoid Noah Sinclair this morning.
Thinking about him once more, she shivered. All last evening he had watched her, like a wolf stalking its prey. His cold blue eyes took in everything, although he said little to her. She shook her head to drive away the absurd fancy. “Wolf, indeed! He's just a lecherous old man, every bit as unpleasant as his kinswoman. I will simply avoid him until he's gone.”
With that she began to dress, donning an ugly gray muslin gown. Even in her plain wardrobe, it was exceptionally unbecoming. “I certainly don't have to dress for any man's fancy anymore, now that Gerald—” Carrie cut herself off. No self-pity. She was well shut of any man who could be bought, but the ache of betrayal remained.
As Carrie descended the stairs on her way to the kitchen, she heard voices coming from the parlor. The heavy sliding doors were ajar, and Aunt Patience and Noah Sinclair's voices carried into the hall.
“She'll come around quickly enough, Noah. No need to fear. The poor child has just suffered a terrible shock. You see, she was quite infatuated with the young man my Charity is going to marry. When their wedding date was announced the other day, well, it took Carrie rather by surprise. Of course, there was no doubt that Gerald Rawlins would choose my Charity over her! All the more reason for her to be grateful for your suit, Noah. You're here at a most opportune time.”
Noah snorted in derision, imagining exactly what had induced a man with normal eyesight to pick that fat tan wren over her flame-haired cousin. “Yes, I imagine my arrival has been timely. The point is, Patience, that I have but a few days before I must leave for Miles City. I can't play the ardent swain. I wasn't interested in doing it thirty years ago, and I'm not about to start now.”
“Never fear. After all, while she's prostrate by rejection, she'll be in a receptive mood for a secure match with a wealthy older man. Any young woman with sense and no money would be insane to turn you down! If you want her, she's yours, dear cousin.”
“Oh, I want her right enough, Patience.”
The slow drawling chuckle that followed left every hair on Carrie's head standing on end. Her breath froze in her throat and her hand clamped on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. They were plotting for her to marry him! The nerve—the insane, vicious nerve of that woman! Furiously, Carrie drew several breaths to ease her trembling limbs. She must think rationally. Her first impulse was to storm into the room and refuse then and there in front of the conspirators. However, reason quickly prevailed. Aunt Patience would exact terrible revenge for such an unthinkable breach of decorum. No, she would wait until her uncle came home this afternoon and reason with him.
When her parents, Josiah and Naomi Patterson, had been killed five years ago in a riverboat explosion, she had found herself alone and virtually penniless. Her father had invested his wealth none too wisely and had been skirting on the edge of bankruptcy at the time of his death, a fact her aunt and uncle reminded her of all too often. Grudgingly he had taken in the bright, indulged child of his only brother. Although he never took her side against his wife, Carrie was sure her uncle would not expect her to quickly marry a man she had only just met.
* * * *
“But, Uncle Hiram, you can't be serious!”
The stricken way Carrie's voice broke when she spoke almost made Hiram Patterson weaken. He was rather put off by Patience's cold, arrogant cousin. He could see why the girl did not favor him. But a man must be practical. His investments in the past few years had not been good, and he could not afford the expense of a debut for his wastrel brother's daughter as well as both his own. Then there was the matter of all that money for Rawlins's schooling and setting him up in practice. Damn Patience and her plotting! Rawlins wasn't the son-in-law he needed to take over his bank when he retired. He was furious with his wife, indeed with all women, at the moment. Carrie's tearful pleading was becoming increasingly irksome, and he wanted the interview terminated.
“I'm sorry, my dear, but there's nothing to be gained by this unseemly display. Noah Sinclair has done you the honor of asking you to marry him. He is a very rich man. He'll make a fine husband for you.”
“He's old enough to be my father—my grandfather even,” Carrie sputtered through her tears. ”I don't love him. I don't even know him!”
“It's been my observation that courtships and romantic matches are often ill-fated. You'll get to know him after you're married. It's much more sensible, really.”
“Yes, I'll get to know him, thousands of miles away from home, among wild Indians and grizzly bears! Well out of Gerald's reach! That's it, isn't it, Uncle Hiram? You and Aunt Patience want me gone so Gerald won't renege on his bargain! Well, I won't do it. I won't marry Noah Sinclair. Y
ou can't make me.” She clenched both fists tightly and stood her ground in the big, dusty library.
“Don't be too sure of that, missy!” Patience's voice cut in venomously, causing Carrie to whirl in surprise when her aunt entered the room from the hall doorway. In exasperation she glanced at her husband. “I might have known you couldn't control her, Hiram.”
“Now see here, Patience. I told her in no uncertain terms she should be most honored to marry Noah.” Hiram's face was florid with anger and his voice raised an octave as he addressed his wife.
“I am not honored, and I won't be sold! You can't do this to me.” Carrie stubbornly faced the divided ranks of aunt and uncle.
“Tell her, Hiram! Tell her what will- happen if she refuses this generous offer.” All the years of jealousy, seeing Carrie's loveliness alongside the homeliness of her own girls, goaded Patience. Now she'd have her revenge.
Hiram's face took on a waxy pallor, in sharp contrast to its reddened tinge of a moment earlier. He gripped the edge of his cluttered walnut desk as if to give himself courage, and then spoke slowly and deliberately. “Either you will marry Noah Sinclair the day after tomorrow or your aunt and I will be forced to disown you. You are penniless, with no other relatives. If we cast you out, no good family will receive you in their home.”
“You'll end up a prostitute, down on the levee,” Patience put in viciously. “That flashy red hair should make a nice advertisement for your wares!”
Carrie saw black flecks swim before her eyes and had to take a step back, bracing herself against one of the chairs by the window. Patience glided across the room to stand next to Hiram. Together they faced Carrie down, unified now in their heartless purpose.
“Be reasonable, Carrie. You'll be a wealthy widow someday. There are many benefits to marrying an older man. Noah will leave you well provided for.”
Hiram's calm practicality defeated her even more than Patience's blatant cruelty. There was nowhere to turn. She took inventory of her resources, realizing Patience's assessment of her fate was probably right. No one would take her in if the Pattersons disowned her.
She had no skills that could enable her to earn a living. Factories hired only sturdy girls from lower-class families. She couldn't cook or operate a sewing machine. She had an education, but no references with which to get a governess's job. Besides, the disgrace that Patience would heap on her name would effectively bar her from obtaining such work. Carrie had no doubts now that her aunt was capable of the most outrageous lies. No decent employer would hire her. She'd starve or freeze or, worse yet, end up in one of those places her friends from school had whispered about.
“You leave me no choice whatsoever, do you? You may inform Mr. Sinclair I accept his gracious proposal.” Carrie forced a glacial smile and then walked from the room like a wooden doll.
* * * *
During the two days prior to the ceremony, Carrie saw her future husband alone one time. Faith, her fifteen-year-old cousin, came to her room to announce with an irritating titter that Cousin Noah wanted to see her in the library. Dreading the confrontation, Carrie was nonetheless oddly curious about how he would act now that she had succumbed to his proposal.
Carefully she soaked her tear-swollen face with cold towels, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing the evidence of her distress. Obdurately, Carrie donned the ugly gray dress once more and braided her hair into a tight bun on the back of her head. Looking much more formidable than she felt, she marched down to the study and knocked on the walnut door. When Noah bade her enter, Carrie took a shaky breath and walked in, carefully closing the door behind her.
She looked for all the world like a cornered fawn, frightened and ready to strike out at anything around her, Noah thought to himself. He eyed her gray dress with obvious distaste. “If that's a sample of your day dresses, you can leave them all here. I'll buy you better.”
One hand went instinctively up to her throat, smoothing the scratchy lace collar as she felt an embarrassed flush creep up her neck to her face. “Since everything has been arranged between you and my uncle, I hardly thought I needed to dress to entice you.” The minute the words were out, she could have bitten her tongue. Stupid girl! This is no way to placate the man who is carrying you off to the wilderness day after tomorrow!
His sharp bark of laughter caught her off guard. “Good! You do have some spirit. I like gumption in a woman as well as beauty. You were quiet as a churchmouse last night. I assume your presence here means you've accepted my proposal?” When she made no move to affirm or deny the fact, he continued arrogantly, “I could have come, hat in hand, on bended knee and played a lovesick fool, but that's never been my way. Besides, I don't have time for such nonsense. I have to be in St. Paul in a week to close a stock-feed deal, then back home to the Circle S as soon as possible. Speaking very plainly, my dear, I need a wife. You have just been jilted by an impoverished suitor and need a husband to salve your wounded pride. I'm a rich man and prepared to be generous to you.”
Carrie's eyes flashed a warning green fire, and she burst forth impulsively, “It's deplorable to buy a husband for a woman as Uncle Hiram did for Charity, yet quite all right for you to buy a wife. Well, I'm not interested in your money.”
His face darkened beneath its deep tan and he gripped the crystal glass he held in his hand. Forcing himself to be calm, he spoke in measured tones laced with sarcasm. “I am ever so glad for your assurances that you are no fortune hunter, Carrie. You are educated, bright, and beautiful. I am a man of wealth and influence in Montana Territory, and I want a woman with your qualities. You may be the wife of the next territorial governor.” His blue eyes gleamed fiercely as he said the words, evoking a long-cherished dream. “I want a woman to stand by my side who I can be proud of, to give me children, sons to run a ranch bigger than some eastern states. Together, Carrie, we can found a dynasty!”
The intensity of his craggy features and harsh voice seemed to compel a response from her. Yet nowhere in his grandiose plans had he ever mentioned love. A flood of hopelessness washed over her, but Carrie had made a bargain and it was useless to renege now. “I don't know what to say, Mr. Sin—Noah.” The name seemed awkward on her lips, but she would get used to it. If he called her Carrie, she would address him as an equal. “I'm afraid I know nothing about the West, not even where Montana is located.” She could not bring herself to broach the subject of having children with this stranger, this man more than twice her age.
Smiling tolerantly, Noah walked toward her, his long-legged stride-betraying the rolling gait of a man who had spent a lifetime on horseback. “Montana borders on Canada, the Dakota and Wyoming Territories. It's almost twice the size of Missouri. The journey to my ranch in the southeastern part of the state is over a thousand miles. It'll take us nearly three weeks, including my stopover in St. Paul. So you can see why we have to get on our way soon.”
As he spoke, he guided her to the door. Uneasily she followed his lead, resenting the perfunctory dismissal yet glad to be free of his overbearing company. In one decisive movement he reached in his suit pocket and extracted his wallet. Pulling out a thick sheaf of bank notes, he pressed them into the startled girl's hand, then shoved her out the door with the admonition, “I expect you to spend it all on some fashionable dresses and other accessories. Do all the shopping tomorrow. I've told Patience what clothes to order for you, but I don't think much of her taste. I'll trust your judgment now that you don't have to answer to her for what you choose, or to Hiram for the cost! Oh, yes, burn that damn gray shroud as soon as you have something to replace it!”
Carrie stood in the hall outside the library, stunned into immobility for a few seconds, staring dumbly at the wad of money. The nerve of the man! Her shock turned quickly to outrage. He had indeed bought her. Here was tangible proof! Then her fury dissolved in tears of frustration and impotence. What was the use? The rapid shift of emotions that she had just experienced left her exhausted. She trudged limply upstairs and
sequestered the money in the bottom drawer of her bureau.
CHAPTER TWO
Standing on the deck of the Diamond Jo Line steamship, Carrie Sinclair smoothed the wrinkles from her new peach silk dress and waved spiritlessly to the crowd. As the craft left the shore, she could see Uncle Hiram's tall, paunchy figure standing beside that of his short, plump wife. Both waved in immense relief, overjoyed to have the unwelcome responsibility of their niece taken from them so neatly. Faith's small drab form melted into the press of the crowd as she gave a listless farewell salute to her cousin. Charity and Gerald were attending an afternoon tea at the Rawlins home. Mercifully, Carrie did not have to face her ex-fiancé now that she was married to Noah Sinclair.
Noah. For one hour he had been her husband. They had been married with only time enough to rush to the levee and board the big riverboat that would carry them to St. Paul. Nervously, Carrie looked up at him, observing his hawkish profile while he gazed at the receding waterfront. The big steamship strained against the power of the mighty river, slowly propelling itself upstream, north to Minnesota. She was alone, married to this stranger, going to an alien land. Carrie felt powerless, cut adrift like the floating pieces of debris in the muddy waters, swept along with the current. Where was he taking her? How would they deal with one another for the rest of their lives? His harsh features gave her no clue. Other than their one brief and unsatisfactory confrontation in the Patterson study, they had not been alone together until now.
Carrie had spent all day yesterday assembling her trousseau. Her lavish shopping spree had given her some satisfaction. Charity and Faith had accompanied her, gazing in sullen wonderment and open jealousy as she spent Noah's money. From the perky little feather hat on her head to the soft kid slippers on her feet, Carrie was completely outfitted in the latest fashion. Several trunks were secured below, full of silk dresses, lacy undergarments, handsomely fitted shoes, and sheer night rails.