“They’ll have to find someone else.”
“There is no one else.” Learning that Rose Canton’s mother-in-law still lived with the Cantons, and the fact that Mrs. Rodgers hadn’t known that was Bridgette’s next assignment had been the catalyst that had sent her to Dodge. Hearing she was being sent to a family who really didn’t need the help confirmed she’d never been wanted at the Rodgerses’ home and that there was no reason to stay. Knowing there was nowhere, no one, where she was truly wanted made her insides ache. The one thing she’d always wanted was further away than ever.
Garth grasped her elbow. Sapped by her own thoughts, the truth of her life, Bridgette didn’t have the will to fight against him as he led her away from the horses. She probably didn’t need to worry about Dr. Rodgers finding her. He was probably glad to be done with her. What she did need to worry about was telling the truth. She couldn’t have the entire town thinking she was married to Garth. That would hinder her in finding a job. People wouldn’t want to hire a liar and she couldn’t blame them.
Together they ducked beneath the rope. He didn’t say anything until they’d entered a small grove of trees near the riverbank and he’d tugged her down to sit next to him on a fallen log.
“Is there anything you can do about that?” he asked.
She closed her eyes as heaviness pressed down upon her shoulders. He was referring to leaving Hosford. That was Garth. He’d never depended on outsiders, only himself, and expected the same of others. “No, other than going back.” Admitting that made her throat burn. “I can’t do that, Garth. I can’t go back there. I’ll never leave again if I do.” She knew that to be true, too. Hosford was the only home she’d ever known. She was already missing it, and wondering about the people who had been kind to her over the years.
Garth’s elbows were braced on his knees as he stared forward, toward the muddy brown river. “If going back’s not an option, what else could you do?”
Stung, she said, “There is no if. Going back is not an option.”
He glanced her way, with one brow arched and a glint of humor in his eyes. “So what else is an option?”
“There aren’t any,” she pointed out.
“There are always options,” he said. “You just haven’t thought hard enough on it.”
“Yes, I have,” she argued. “Before and after I left.”
“You mean before and after you ran away?”
Flustered, she glared at him.
He grinned. “If you’d merely left, you wouldn’t be worrying about anyone coming to find you. There wouldn’t be any need because you’d have told them you were leaving.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why? Did you say you’d live there forever?”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
Growing more flustered, she stood. “I didn’t say anything. There was never an opportunity to.”
“You mean you never made the opportunity.”
Irritated by his calm attitude as much as she was by his words, she snapped, “And you would have? You would have made the opportunity. Told people that you were leaving. That you wouldn’t live there forever.”
“Of course. I always have. I’ve never just run out on anyone.”
“Yes, you have,” she argued. “You ran out the other night, when I told you to wait in the barn.”
He shrugged. “I was drunk.”
She ran her hands through her hair and squeezed her head at the frustration filling her system. Other than that night, he’d always laid out his plan far in advance of taking action. Even when it came to leaving the Orphan Train. He’d prepared her for their separation weeks in advance of it happening.
“When that famer took me off the train, I told him I wouldn’t be hanging around long, and I didn’t. When Malcolm Johansson hired me, I told him I’d work for him until I had enough money to round up my own herd. When that happened, I offered him a couple of suggestions as to who he should hire to replace me.”
She didn’t doubt any of that, and it didn’t make her feel any better. “Well, I’m not you, am I?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nope, you aren’t. But you are the one claiming to be my wife, and we have to be at the restaurant in a few hours.”
“You have to be at the restaurant. I don’t.”
His gaze locked on hers, but this time, it didn’t feel like a showdown or a challenge. The disappointment in his eyes made her stomach gurgle and her chin kept trying to quiver.
Once again, he was the one to look away first. Slapping his thighs, he stood up. “All right then.”
A shiver rippled her shoulders. “All right what?”
He started walking toward the camp. “You’re right. You don’t have to be there.”
Hurrying to keep up with his long strides, she asked, “Are you going by yourself?”
“No, the invite is for me and my wife.”
“So you aren’t going to go?”
“I have to go,” he said. “It’s important for me to be there.”
Marching along beside him, she said, “Well, I’m not going.”
“You said that.”
“And you said that you are going. And that the invite was for both you and your wife.”
“Yep.”
She stopped. They were getting too close to the tent city. Others might hear their conversation if they moved any closer. “So what are you going to do about that?”
He’d stopped beside her and his gaze went toward town before it settled on her again. “Not too many people have seen what you look like. There has to be another girl at the Crystal Palace who won’t mind pretending to be my wife for the night.” He flicked the end of her nose with one finger. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
It was a full minute or more before the implications of what he’d said hit her brain. And another minute before the implications of those implications hit her stomach. Bridgette hoisted her skirt and ran to catch up with Garth. She didn’t say a word, not even when he glanced her way with both brows lifted. He didn’t need to know how dark and ugly her insides had turned a moment ago. Would never know, but if anyone was going to pretend to be his wife, it would be her.
She’d worry about the consequences later.
They walked in silence all the way to town. He took her arm as they crossed the road that led from the stockyards to town, and kept a hold of her as they started up the boardwalk. Bridgette kept her head up and her gaze forward as they walked past the Crystal Palace. Although JoJo had told her Garth had only gone there to find the stockyard agent, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek out of the corner of one eye at him while the girls on the porch whooped and hollered.
“Aren’t you going to wave to your friends?” he asked.
She ignored him.
A few blocks later, after crossing yet another busy cross street, he guided her through the open doorway of the Dodge House. It was a huge white building, sporting more than twenty-five guest rooms—that’s what she’d heard—and about the most expensive place to stay in town.
“Hello,” the man behind the desk greeted.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin,” Garth replied. “This is—”
“Mrs. McCain,” the man interrupted. “I’ve heard about you, and it is so nice to meet you. My Chrissy has your bath ready.” Turning to Garth, he asked, “Will you need the extra key to your room?”
“No,” Garth answered. “One’s all we need.”
Mr. Franklin pushed his glasses up on his nose as he smiled at her again. “All right then. As I said, Chrissy has everything ready. It’s a pleasure to have you staying with us, Mrs. McCain. A real pleasure.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “You, too, Mr. McCain.”
Garth merely nodde
d as he guided her toward the steps. Bridgette didn’t stumble, but should have. Her stomach was flipping and flopping as if she’d just tumbled all the way down an entire flight of stairs. Had the entire town heard she was Garth’s wife? This was bigger and more convoluted than she’d imagined.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage by the time they arrived at the second floor.
“Mrs. McCain,” a young voice called as they turned the corner. “Down here. I have everything ready in the bathing room.”
A bit of relief washed over Bridgette at hearing there was a private bathing room. The hotel in Hosford hauled a tub into the guest’s room when a bath was requested, and she most certainly was not prepared to take a bath with Garth in the same room.
Her relief didn’t last long. In her rush to catch up with him, she hadn’t collected any of her items. A bath didn’t do much good when you put dirty clothes back on.
As if reading her mind, Garth quietly asked, “Is there anything back at the camp you need?”
Admitting there was annoyed her, but she had no choice. “Yes.”
“I’ll go get it.”
“There’s a bag—”
“JoJo will know.” Letting go of her arm, he nodded toward the girl at the end of the hall. “Go take your bath.”
She glanced down the hall and then back at him, wondering for a way to put a stop to all this.
“Go on,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”
The twinkle in his dark eyes caught and held her attention, and moments later, full understanding hit her. Pinching her lips together, she growled at him like she used to years ago when he’d irritated her.
Stepping closer, to assure no one overheard, she whispered, “This would be a whole lot easier if you weren’t enjoying it so much.”
He didn’t just grin, he laughed. It was deeper than she remembered, but still, it sent her back several years. She used to love to hear him laugh, and he used to do it a lot. At times, just to please her. She’d never told him she’d known about that.
Before she realized what he was doing, he grasped the back of her head and pulled her face close enough for him to kiss her forehead. The touch of his lips, warm and soft, sent a delectable shiver down her spine that burst into a pool of warmth at the bottom of her backbone, filling her insides. She’d loved him for so long. In all honesty, couldn’t remember not loving him. They’d hugged and held hands, but he’d never kissed her. Thank goodness, because the touch of his lips made her want more. A whole lot more.
“Go now,” he whispered, “before your water gets cold.”
As he walked away, she drew in a ragged breath, one where tiny bits of air caught on invisible branches inside her, and hung there like pieces of fruit waiting to be plucked.
“Mrs. McCain?”
Bridgette had to pound on her chest to get the air moving before she could turn around. Garth’s soft chuckle echoed in the hallway behind her as she put one foot in front of the other, walking toward the girl waiting for her.
“I’m Chrissy Franklin,” the girl said. “My father owns the Dodge House. I have everything set up. Mrs. Owens had the most lovely blue gown ready for sale, along with a matching hat that is so adorable. I can’t wait to see it on you. I thought we’d wash your hair right away so it can be drying while you finish your bath and get dressed. Then I’ll curl it for you.”
Bridgette’s head was still spinning, along with other parts of her, so she merely nodded and followed the girl. The room was spacious, even with the large tub taking up a considerable amount of space.
“Do you need help undressing?” Chrissy asked.
Years ago Bridgette had gotten over the unease of seeing other women without any clothing, but this would be a first for things to be the other way around, and that was uncomfortable. “No,” she said. “I can manage.”
“I’ll step out then,” Chrissy said. “While you get undressed and climb in the tub. My mother is pressing the hem of your dress. I’ll run down and get it. I have everything else up here already.”
The girl gestured toward two benches that sat near the wall. Underclothes, right down to a new pair of stockings, were laid out across the tops of both seats. The door behind her clicked shut, and Bridgette crossed the room to run a fingertip over the delicate white lace trimming the camisole and pair of drawers. Always conscious of money, and knowing the prices in Dodge she muttered, “This must have cost a fortune.”
* * *
Garth felt like whistling. He hadn’t felt like whistling in years. JoJo had been full of questions, and though he’d provided the old man with enough information he wouldn’t worry about Bridgette, Garth had kept most of his thoughts to himself. Those concerning her anyway. He’d known the idea of having someone else pretend to be his wife would get to her and that was exactly why he wanted to whistle. Walking down the boardwalk beside her had filled him in places he hadn’t known had been empty, and kissing her, even though it was just a small peck on her forehead, had been even more fulfilling. He’d forgotten what it felt like to know someone cared about him.
He was almost back to the Dodge House when he spied one of the men he’d seen this morning across the street. Either Mr. Ellis or Mr. Harmes, he wasn’t sure which was which. The man tipped his black hat and Garth copied the action in return, but then paused as his thoughts shifted slightly as the man continued on his way.
He’d purchased a new outfit for Bridgette, but never contemplated what he should wear tonight. Until now. Solstead would be wearing a suit, and therefore, he should, too. Not because he wanted to, but because that’s what a cattleman would do. His heart thudded a bit harder as he wondered what Bridgette would think of him wearing a suit.
Convinced, Garth continued up the boardwalk and then entered the dry goods store where he’d purchased the clothes he was wearing before taking a bath last night. He’d never owned a suit, and wasn’t sure what he needed, but the clerk knew. Right down to the hair oil he used to slick back Garth’s hair.
A short time later, sporting a three-piece suit, complete with a white shirt, black tie and a new black hat perched atop his slicked-back hair, Garth made his way out of the store. His new black boots clicked loudly on the boardwalk, all the way to the Dodge House and up the steps to the second floor. Bridgette wasn’t in the room when he opened the door, and that was a bit disappointing; he was hoping to surprise her with his new duds.
He set her bag on the bed, his old boots in the corner and then walked across the room to tuck the clothes he had been wearing in one of the dresser drawers. At the rate he was spending money, he’d have to cash in one of the bank notes in his leather purse long before he sold any cattle.
Other than while shaving, he rarely looked at himself in a mirror, but the image that flashed above the dresser had him looking up. The red vest beneath the black jacket was bright and attention getting. He wasn’t so sure he liked that, but he did like the new black hat. He lifted it off to check out his slicked-back hair. Smoothing a stray hair into place, a noise had him turning about.
He’d left the door open, planning on going down the hall to check on Bridgette as soon as he’d emptied his hands.
There was no need to go down the hall. She was in the doorway, and he’d never seen anything like it. There were cute women, and pretty women, and then there were beautiful ones. He was looking at the most beautiful one ever.
The gown was blue, a pale blue, with tiny white lace at the hem, cuffs, and collar that stood up, encircling her slender neck. The white lace went down the front of the dress, bordering a row of buttons all the way to her waist. There was more lace on the skirt, trimming the layers of material that went clear to the floor.
His eyes shot back up, to her face that was framed by ringlets of golden hair that had been pinned up in a fancy fashion type of way beneath a dainty blue hat. O
n anyone else, he would have thought that hat silly. On her, it looked perfect.
Their gazes met, locked, and along with an intense heat that hit him below the waist, he felt a tinge of confusion at the humor sparkling in her deep blue eyes.
A moment later, he realized it was because his hand was still on the side of his head, where he’d been smoothing back his hair. She’d caught him preening in the mirror, and thought it funny. It was. Even to him.
Grinning, he planted the new hat on his head and stepped forward, arms held out at both sides. “What do you think?”
She giggled slightly. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t have recognized you dressed like that any more than I had with your face covered in whiskers and one eye swollen shut.”
He nodded, and turned about to glance in the mirror again. “That good, eh?”
She laughed louder.
He turned back around and let a long sigh exhale while taking in her beauty once again. Grinning, he twirled a finger in the air.
Her cheeks turned pink as she spun around, showing him all sides of her dress.
Taking a step closer, he said, “I’d have recognized you if I’d at least had one good eye when I rode into the camp.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she argued.
“Yes, I think I would have.” His throat felt a bit thick, so he spoke quickly, “And I know I’d have recognized you if you’d been dressed like this. You are the very image of the woman I’d imagined you’d become. The very image.”
A smile did a little magic act of now you see me, now you don’t, before it settled on her lips. She pressed two fingers against her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she said, “You look exactly like the man I’d imagined you had become.” She sniffled and blinked before adding, “A man I was afraid I’d never see.”
The tears that welled in the bottoms of her eyes had him stepping forward and taking her hands. He curled his fingers around hers and squeezed them gently. “I’m glad we found each other, Bridgette. I sincerely am.”
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