by Lynn Donovan
"I don't know." Myrakle shrugged. "Being my friend." Her heavy grief felt a little lighter. Jasmine and she were going to be good friends when they arrived in Bent. At least, Myrakle hoped that would be so. Without the limiting confines of a train car and with new duties as a bride, who knew how close they would remain? But Myrakle liked the thought of having Jasmine as a dear friend in a strange new town. Maybe Helena, too. In fact, she hoped these nine women would be her first new friends in Colorado. They were the only people she knew for now. That had to mean something in the long run.
Out of habit, she reached to touch Dumpling's head. He had sat up, watching the wait staff work their way up and down the car. Passengers came to have dinner. An older woman waved the waiter over and said something to him. Her face looked... like she smelled something rotten and her eyes darted toward Dumpling. The waiter reluctantly came to Myrakle and Jasmine. Myrakle cringed. Here it comes...
"Excuse me, Miss. We are about to serve supper and some of the passengers are complaining about your dog in the dining car. May I stow him in a livestock car for you?"
"You most certainly may not!" Myrakle stiffened. Dumpling sat up, alert. "He is my companion dog. I-I need him at my side."
The waiter glanced at the woman who had complained and turned back to Myrakle. "Well, perhaps we could bring you a tray for supper and you can dine where you and your companion dog will be more comfortable."
Tears sprang to her eyes full force. She stood and Dumpling pressed against the side of her skirt. "I'm not even hungry."
She spun around on her heels and marched back to their passenger car. Jasmine scurried after her. Myrakle would rather eat her meals on the floor of the livestock car— with Dumpling— than to dine in that car with those horrible people. She flopped down in her seat and Dumpling curled around her feet. She scanned the faces aimed at her.
“What’s wrong?" Cina looked at Myrakle with concern.
Jasmine gathered her skirt and stepped over Dumpling to sit next to Myrakle. "Never you mind." She addressed Cina and turned back to Myrakle.
Myrakle lifted tear-filled eyes to Jasmine's. "How can I possibly make a new life for me and Dumpling when people act like we are such disgusting animals?"
"You're not a disgusting animal! And neither is Dumpling. That woman is nothing like what the people in Bent, Colorado are like."
"How do you know?" Myrakle clung to Jasmine's hands.
"I just know." Jasmine looked to the other brides for help. "The people in Bent, Colorado are wonderful, Christian people. We are going to find our happy ever after, just like in Helena's books. Miss Viola Redburn assured me that I would love Bent, and you will too, Myrakle. I just know you will." She gave Myrakle's hands a little shake. "Trust me. You survived that scarlet fever for a reason. God has a purpose for you... and me... all of us in Colorado. It's going to be alright. You'll see."
CHAPTER TWO
It was late and it was dark, but a stream of excitement filled the passenger car. The train had finally arrived at Bent. Rejuvenated anticipation revived the girls from the drowsy lulling of the train's motion. Myrakle and the brides-to-be giggled and chattered as they gathered their carpet bags, preparing to disembark. Jasmine chittered faster than usual. Even the other passengers had woken to wish them well. Every girl leaned over in turn to see out the windows, including Myrakle.
Oil lanterns cast haloes of light on the platform of the station. Searching the semi-lit faces under the wooden awning, Myrakle couldn’t see anyone who might be Miss Viola Redburn, or much else for that matter. Would they meet their future husbands tonight? Myrakle pushed flyaway hair into submission. She must look a fright. Her heart filled with gratefulness that it was so dark.
A few shadowy people passed through the glow of the lanterns but none of them looked like an elderly spinster woman. An attractive man, however, stood under one of the lanterns, his attention fixed on the cargo cars and not the passengers. He must be waiting for a supply order. Myrakle concentrated on the dimly lit gentleman. His handsome features were obvious even with his face obscured by the soft glow of the lantern.
Quickly the girls scuttled out of the train. Thank God for the steward at the steps or Jasmine would have fallen headlong to the ground. The women gathered on the platform. Myrakle turned this way and that, looking for the matchmaker... or that handsome man she'd spied.
No one approached the cluster of women except stewards and baggage handlers. Myrakle ignored Jasmine's constant jibber jabber, except for when the baggage handler indicated something to the group of girls. Then she looked directly at Jasmine's mouth. They had their trunks offloaded and set to one side. The girls moved as one person to stand closer to their belongings.
Still no one came.
Had they been forgotten? Abandoned? Was this all a trick? Fear shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She shivered violently. Dumpling pressed against her leg. The chill in the late night breeze raised goose flesh on her arms. She moved, and Dumpling moved with her to a bench near the ticket office. The glow of a pot-belly-stove burned inside. The girls automatically moved with her. If anyone should try to harm them, at least the ticket master would be near to help. Wouldn't he?
The strikingly handsome man Myrakle had seen in the dim light approached the gaggle of girls and tipped his hat. "Pardon me, ladies."
He addressed all ten girls, but his eyes fell on Myrakle. "Are you waiting... of course you're waiting... what I mean to say is, are you expecting someone to meet you?"
Myrakle let her eyes take in his long, lean frame, down to his boots and then up to his crystal blue eyes framed with long dark eyelashes. He was gorgeous! She could dive into those blue pools and bathe in their warmth forever. Her heart fluttered in her chest, causing her breath to hitch and her lungs to ache. She didn't want to spoil this moment by speaking and having him repulsed by her flat tone. She nodded instead.
"Well, if you want, I can hang around until they get here. It's late... you know it's late... what I mean to say is I'd be happy to— you shouldn't be out here unescorted, it's not exactly safe... or proper. There's a fort near here, Fort Bent. And you never know what a rogue soldier might do when he's in town this late. I can keep an eye on you... all of you...until— who are you meeting, if I may ask?"
Myrakle pursed her lips, praying Jasmine or someone would tell him so she didn't have to speak. Where was Jasmine with her constant jibber jabber when she needed her? His eyes darted away from Myrakle. One of the girls must have answered him. Myrakle scanned the girls. Violet had advanced toward him. Was it she who had spoken? Myrakle returned her gaze to the handsome cowboy. Sadness filled his eyes as he lifted his head then brought it down in a slow, affirming nod.
"Well, that's gonna be a problem." He looked toward the ticket booth. "Excuse me just a moment."
He hurried to the ticket window and spoke to the old man behind the glass. The ticket master stood up and pressed his face against the barrier, gawking at the brides-to-match.
Myrakle's brow furrowed. Something was terribly wrong. This man knew what it was but wasn't sharing it with the girls. What did he say to the ticket master? She walked to the ticket window, sidling next to the handsome man. His body radiated heat over her chilled skin. She longed to snuggle into his warmth. Her breath was shallow and her tongue wouldn't move. The sensation overwhelmed her mind.
Focus! She reprimanded herself. With one final glance at the handsome stranger, she turned to the ticket master and bent to speak into the opening in the glass. Here goes nothing...
"E-cuse me," she choked out the words to the older man. The handsome man stepped back. Concern etched his face. That was almost as bad as him being repulsed by her monotone. But there was no turning back now.
The ticket handler's head was down, focused on scribbling something on a small piece of paper. Myrakle drew in a deep breath, readying herself to project her voice, but Jasmine nudged Myrakle away and spoke into the hole in the glass. "Excuse me, Sir?"
> He lifted tired eyes.
"Um. We are here." Jasmine gestured to the other girls with a huge smile. "All ten of us."
She smiled wider.
He blinked.
"We are brides-to-match. Miss Viola Redburn sent for us." Myrakle watched Jasmine's confidence slide from her face like wax on a sun-warmed tin roof. She turned to see how the man reacted to the news that they all were here to marry. He seemed unaffected by the knowledge. Did he somehow already know? Probably associating themselves with Miss Viola told him why they were here. That made sense.
The older man nodded once, lifted the note he had scrawled, shot a worried glance at the gentleman, and turned away. Exiting through the door at the back of his small office, he hobbled bow-legged across the rail station. Myrakle watched him through the glass and the opened door. Some of her sister brides ogled the young gentleman who tried to help them find Miss Viola. Myrakle fought the rage brewing in her gut. She'd seen him first!
She cleared her throat. On the other hand, now that she had spoken in front of him, he was probably no longer interested in her. Besides, Miss Viola had a groom in mind for her. Or would have one, soon as she got to know Myrakle a little better. Could Myrakle dream in her wildest imagination that fate would be so kind as to let this handsome gentleman be her groom-to-match? The one Miss Viola was considering for Myrakle?
The ticket master put a coin in a young man's hand and the boy tipped his hat, then took off running. The ticket master made his way back to his office, closed the door, and fell into his chair as if his knees gave out on him. He lifted old watery eyes toward Jasmine. "You gals might as well have a seat. This might take a minute."
Myrakle's handsome man seemed to know why. He nodded and led the group of girls to the bench. He hung back but stayed near enough to be assured they were safe. Somehow, knowing he was so near, she felt safe. Myrakle dropped her eyes to Dumpling and tried to keep her gaze on her dog. He shook himself from nose to tail as if he were wet and settled on his haunches. His tongue lolled over his bottom jaw and yellowed teeth gleamed in the lantern light. He didn't indicate any immediate danger.
As hard as she tried, Myrakle's eyes seemed to have a mind of their own and kept lifting to take in the delicious man, who could just as likely be her future husband. A girl could hope, wish, pray, that Miss Viola had chosen this one just for her.
The girls moved around, agitated as cats with wet paws. Myrakle saw most of the girls express the same concerns. "What does he mean 'this might take a minute'?" "What shall we do?" "We can't stay out here all night." "It's so cold!"
Something was definitely wrong! Myrakle felt it in her gut. The others knew it, too. Alice started crying. Myrakle empathized, but when the handsome man moved to comfort her, Myrakle leapt to her feet and pulled Miss Bowen away from him. She wrapped her arms around the girl and let her cry on her shoulder, feigning sympathy. Her sister, Abigail, fell apart next. Violet took her into her embrace and patted her back.
In truth, Myrakle wasn't minding this hold-up so much. The young man's presence stilled most of the worry in her mind. She allowed a smile to creep onto her mouth as she glanced at him again. Like a set of dominoes, the girls began to cry. Those who were of a stronger constitution comforted those who were overwhelmed by emotions. Perhaps they did need to find a place to stay for the night. Myrakle looked around. Where was Miss Viola? Should they go to a hotel? Was there one nearby? Maybe she should ask this knight in shining armor. She didn't have access to her papa's money yet, but if she explained the conditions of her dowry, that she'd have it soon as she married— she sighed. As soon as she married this beautiful man who was so kind and thoughtful to help ten strangers in the dark of night—
Myrakle mentally shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the problem at hand. There was no way the hotel would agree to give ten strangers a room on credit. Surely, Miss Viola lived nearby and they could just walk to her house... dragging their trunks behind them. Myrakle looked over her sister brides. Some of them didn't look sturdy enough to walk a great distance, let alone pull a trunk along with them. And this most helpful gentleman would probably assist with their luggage, but he couldn't tote ten trunks. Besides, she really didn't want to share his generosity with any of them.
She lowered her eyes in shame. She knew she was being selfish. Guilt rose in her throat like bile.
Another girl began to cry uncontrollably. Esperanza Martinez. Myrakle took her hand. She wanted to jerk the girl's arm and tell her to grow up! But she didn't want to appear to be so unkind. She was trying to appease her guilt, but her jealous heart was screaming opposite ideas.
Dumpling clung to Myrakle's side. The heightened emotions were making him agitated. When Myrakle moved among the girls to comfort another breakdown, he rose slowly and limped beside her, barely letting four inches get between his shoulder and Myrakle's skirt. She worried the cool air was causing him pain in his old joints. Grandma had always complained about the same thing back when she was alive.
The handsome man knelt down next to Dumpling and patted his head. He rubbed his hand down the cocker's front leg and then his back leg, gently squeezing as if he were looking for what troubled her dog. He spoke to him, compassionately. Dumpling wagged his stubby tail and his tongue lolled over his jaw.
Well, that told her everything she needed to know. Dumpling liked him. Perhaps if Miss Viola had chosen someone else for Myrakle, she could explain her attraction to this one and Miss Viola could—
Suddenly, all the girls turned at once. The gentleman stood and turned his attention toward the same place. Dumpling placed a paw against Myrakle's knee. She looked out into the darkness. A boy pointed at the cluster of girls and ran off into the night. A tall lanky man in a cowboy hat, starched shirt, and denim pants walked toward them. The lanky cowboy yanked his hat from his head as he approached the handsome man who had waited with the girls. They shook hands. Myrakle strained to see what his name could be. She focused on the lanky cowboy's mouth. “…Joseph..."
He said something... maybe Joseph. Or else they were talking about a Joseph? She couldn't be sure. Maybe-Joseph tipped his hat toward the girls. Myrakle's heart plummeted to her knees as he walked away, fading into the darkness. Would she ever see him again?
The girls gathered around the cowboy who had come to fetch them. She pulled her attention from the empty space Maybe-Joseph no longer occupied and made her way to the front of the cluster so she could see the cowboy's mouth clearly. His head hung down and his lips were difficult to make out.
"I'm sow weed, ladles." That can't be right. Myrakle focused harder. Her mind was fuzzy with ridiculous thoughts that lingered on the man she'd probably never see again. "There" —the cowboy's mouth moved but Myrakle could not see it clearly— "been a mistake."
What did he say about a mistake? She turned to Jasmine for confirmation. "A mistake?"
Jasmine shrugged.
What kind of a mistake? All the girls pushed in closer to him, seven of them talked at once. Two cried shoulder shaking sobs. Myrakle hung back. Maybe there was a chance she could be matched up with a man of her choosing. If only she knew for sure his name was Joseph. She couldn't keep calling him Maybe-Joseph. She needed to know.
This cowboy knew who he was. She'd tell Miss Viola she thought his name was Joseph and let this cowboy confirm she was right— or wrong. Either way, he knew who her handsome gentleman was. She brought her mind back to the cowboy who was still talking to the girls.
With this lanky cowboy present, Dumpling sat calmly at her side. So whatever this mistake was, they weren't in any immediate danger. So she waited, quietly crossing her fingers... and toes. The cowboy spoke. The girls responded. Several started crying, again. Myrakle swallowed, but she wasn't fighting tears. She was hoping for one more miracle in her life.
Curiosity flittered about in her mind, too. Where was the good Christian woman who had promised them safe passage and a good husband? Myrakle really needed to talk to her before things got
too far gone and she lost her chance to request a change in husbands.
Jasmine approached Myrakle. She looked extremely serious as she leaned into her face. Finally, she'd learn what the problem could be.
"She died." Tears filled Jasmine's eyes.
"Who?" Myrakle swallowed harder.
"Miss Viola. She died. This is her nephew, Mr. Chance Redburn. Since she never married, he inherited everything, and he says he'll handle her matchmaking business, too. It's only been a few weeks. He didn't realize she had sent for us. When that boy delivered the message from the ticket master, he only told Mr. Redburn there was a delivery for Miss Viola. He says he brought a wagon thinking he was picking up supplies, but he says he'll gather our trunks to take us to his aunt's house. Says there's plenty of room if we double up."
Myrakle lowered her eyes. The good Christian woman had died? And here she was consumed with changing her order for a husband. How selfish she had been.
But, on the other hand, maybe this gave her an even better chance to ask if this man of her dreams was available. She needed to think. "So... We still get to marry?"
Jasmine smiled. "Yes. See. I told you everything would be alright."
Myrakle nodded, but she wasn't sure Jasmine was right. A weird, scared feeling lingered in her gut. With Miss Viola gone, would everything change? For her, that could be a good thing. She hoped. Another thought blew up in her mind. She couldn't receive any of her papa's money until she married. Whatever did happen, she had to get married. But was the money more important than being matched up with the man she loved?
Was she in love? This one sure stirred up feelings she'd never experienced before. Wasn't that how love felt? Her heart certainly screamed he was right for her. She hoped and prayed her heart knew what it was screaming about.
"Right, boy?" Myrakle patted Dumpling's head as if he knew her thoughts. "You'll keep me safe, won't you?"
Mr. Redburn motioned for some depot workers to help. Another wagon was brought around and they loaded the ten trunks. Mr. Redburn helped the ten women into his supply wagon. Dumpling jumped in on his own, although it took him three attempts. He lay across Myrakle's lap. Mr. Redburn watched as Dumpling settled himself. He nodded, which indicated to Myrakle he approved of her dog. That was a good thing, because she wasn't parting with Dumpling no matter what. Mr. Redburn didn't say a word, as far as Myrakle could see, but turned and flipped the reins across his mule's back. Myrakle shamelessly stared into the dark town, hoping to see the man she prayed would be her match.