The Blue Ribbon Brides Collection

by AlLee, Jennifer L. ; Breidenbach, Angela; Franklin, Darlene

  Shifting gears again, Robert turned his wheels to see if they would disengage. With a grind and pop, they were free. Mitch jumped back into the car and they were off, racing toward the ball. Now that the first collision was over, Robert’s nerves settled. “Razzle-dazzle!”

  Mitch gave his signature response: “Tally-ho!”

  But Theo didn’t seem interested in playing polo. Every chance he got, he rammed Robert and Mitch. Even the newest Crusader, a Frenchman who spent more time recruiting Americans for the Allied Powers fighting in Europe than playing auto polo, was eyeing Theo askance.

  After fifteen minutes of the abuse, Robert’s temper had reached a boiling point. The shrill whistle calling for the first break in play saved him from retaliating in a way he’d only regret later. He climbed out of the car and looked into the stands.

  The sight of Jolene, palms pressed against her white cheeks, curled his hands into fists. How dare Theo cause her undue distress! Auto polo was dangerous enough without a madman behind the wheel.

  The Montgomery Marauders huddled behind their goal posts gulping down cups of water. While Robert’s father discussed strategy going into the second period, his mind wandered.

  She’d said yes!

  As soon as the polo match ended, Jolene Caplan would run away with him and become Mrs. Robert Montgomery. Neither of them was happy about eloping, but given the bitterness between their families, it was the only way they could be together.

  He cut another glance into the stands. Her large white hat with a blue bow shaded her face, but he’d memorized the curve of her cheek, sky-blue eyes, and sweetly bowed lips. Two months ago, when they were in Los Angeles, a movie producer had begged her to join his cast of starlets. Jolene laughed while retelling the story, as though the producer needed new glasses or a psychiatrist.

  A rare beauty, his Jolene, and totally unaware she turned heads wherever she went.

  Fingers snapped under his nose. “You with us, big brother?”

  With a start, Robert returned his attention to the strategy session. “Of course.”

  Mitch snorted. “Sure you are.”

  A shrill whistle ended the break.

  Robert, Mitch, Bruce, and Eddy made a beeline for their respective cars.

  Jimmy, the team mechanic, met them halfway. “Eddy, watch your left front tire. The wood is a bit splintered but not bad enough to be replaced yet. Robert, try to avoid at least one collision, all right?”

  The criticism burned Robert’s eardrums as he slid behind the wheel and waited for the second period to begin.

  “You know what you’re doing, right?”

  Robert ground his teeth at his brother’s question.

  “Right?”

  “Of course I know what I’m doing!” Keeping his left foot on the brake, Robert stepped on the gas pedal with his right foot to rev the engine and drown out further annoyances.

  The flag dropped, and he snatched his foot off the brake. Speeding toward the ball, he noticed that Eddy was keeping even with him instead of hanging back by half a car length. As the cars drew closer together, Robert saw Theo and the other Crusader driver shifting their eyes, trying to determine which Montgomery car was taking lead.

  At the designated spot, Robert veered left, expecting Eddy to slam on his brakes as they had practiced earlier that week.

  Eddy didn’t brake.

  What? Was I supposed to—?

  A quick swerve right avoided a collision with his teammates, but the cars bumped wheels, lifting the left side of Robert and Mitch’s car into the air. Mitch jumped off the side. Theo’s reactionary swerve was too late, and Mitch slammed into the front of the Caplan car with a sickening thunk.

  Robert crashed into the elevated edge of Theo’s car sending it into a full roll. Robert’s car slammed back to earth with a bone-jarring bounce.

  He leapt from the Model T and raced to where his brother lay, facedown and unmoving, in the mud.

  Chapter 1

  Western Washington Fair

  Puyallup Valley, Washington

  September 1918

  Jolene Caplan swiped a strand of blond hair from her mouth with a greasy knuckle, no doubt leaving another smudge of oil on her face. Oh, for a hot bath and clean clothes, but her chances of either before the afternoon auto polo match were slim to nil. Dad was treating the rematch between Caplan’s Crusaders and the Montgomery Marauders like it was on par with the Great War raging in Europe. He’d been in the repair tent four times to check and recheck her work, something he never did unless he was nervous.

  Jolene sighed. Seventeen months had passed since that terrible day—with Robert gone to war as penance—and she still hadn’t found a way to tell her parents why the accident was her fault.

  “Are you in here?”

  Jolene turned at the sound of her mother’s voice. “I’m here.”

  The tent flap opened. Mom pushed Cousin Theo through, his wheelchair slow to move on the uneven ground. Mom wore a cloth mask over her nose and mouth—protection against the deadly influenza outbreak—but Theo’s had slipped around his neck.

  Jolene set down her wrench and walked to her cousin. “Good morning, Theo. How are you today?”

  Theo lolled his head in a rhythm of his own. “Aaa. Aaa.”

  Mom patted his shoulder. “Doesn’t he look nice?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Jolene wiped a dribble of spit from the corner of his mouth with a clean edge of her rag and replaced his cotton mask. “Very spiffy.”

  “Today is a very special day, isn’t it, Theo?”

  At the significant look her mom gave her, Jolene frowned. Special day? It wasn’t Theo’s birthday or any occasion she could think of. Was Mom referring to this rematch with the Montgomery Marauders? Her stomach flipped. Oh no … had there been a team meeting to discuss how to best exact revenge for Theo’s broken neck?

  Mom grinned and leaned close to Theo’s ear. “Should we tell her what the occasion is?”

  “Aaa. Aaa.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right. We’d better not spoil the surprise.” Mom scrutinized Jolene from head to toe. “However, I don’t think we would be remiss in suggesting she get cleaned up and change into something very pretty.”

  Jolene fixed a smile on her face, but her heart dropped. No, it wasn’t the match. There was only one reason to get fancy in the middle of the day: Pierre was going to propose.

  “Go on, child. Your father says everything looks fine for the match later.” Mom smoothed Theo’s blond hair to one side. “I’ve laid out an outfit for you, and your father is heating water for a bath.”

  “Must I”—at her mother’s frown, Jolene trapped the word accept inside her throat—“go this moment? I need two more minutes to finish up.”

  Mom’s face relaxed. “Two minutes.” She wheeled Theo out of the tent, leaving behind the weighted air of expectation.

  Jolene bowed her head. Pierre’s proposal had been coming for months. He was a good man and would make a fine husband, but it would be like marrying her brother. With his curly dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes, he was certainly handsome enough … only Jolene preferred straight sandy-colored hair and caramel eyes.

  But the dream of marrying Robert Montgomery—the only man who’d ever made her heart sing—died when he told her not to wait for him, to find someone more worthy of her, and not to grieve should he fail to come home from the war.

  Men were so stupid! If he’d asked, she would have waited a lifetime for him.

  Maybe Mom was right. Maybe it was time to be realistic. A girl who spent nine months out of the year traveling from one side of the country to the other didn’t have many marital options. And even if Robert had asked her to wait, the obstacles between them were stacked as high as the grandstand’s roof.

  Ever since she’d attended her cousin’s wedding and watched Mary Ellen walk down the aisle on her beaming father’s arm, Jolene dreamed of the day it would be her turn. She wanted the mother of the bride and of the groom to w
eep happy tears, the fathers to slap each other on the backs, and for her and her new husband to leave the church showered with good wishes that would last long after the rice blew away.

  Even more, over the last few months she’d fought an ever increasing longing to leave the life of a traveling show, to settle in one place with a little house where she could grow vegetables, flowers, and children.

  All things that would happen only if she married someone her parents found acceptable. Someone like Pierre.

  She’d been willing to throw their approval away to marry Robert. A foolish decision she’d not make again. Her parents loved her. Marrying against their wishes wasn’t romantic; it was a sure way to start a marriage on rocky ground.

  And yet … was marrying a man she didn’t love because her parents did approve of him any better?

  Jolene rubbed her aching temple. “If there be another way, Lord, please show it to me.”

  “Miss Caplan?”

  Her head snapped upright. “Yes?”

  A middle-aged man peeked through the tent flap opening. He wore a tan three-piece suit and brown-and-white wing-tip shoes. His straw hat was decorated with a brown ribbon and a small cluster of black and brown feathers tucked in one side. “Do you have a moment to speak with me?”

  “The cars will be on display before the match this afternoon.”

  His face creased with a broad smile. “I’m not here about the cars, miss. I’m here to offer you a position with my company.”

  She squinted at him. “A position?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind …” He opened the tent flap wider but didn’t step inside.

  Apparently he was a stickler for propriety. A good sign. “Of course.” She wiped her hands on the blue rag, tossed it on the table with her repair tools, and walked into the sunshine. “May I ask your name, sir?”

  “Horace Walpole, at your service.” He pinched the brim of his straw hat and dipped his head. “And you are Miss Jolene Caplan, correct?”

  “Yes.” Jolene stuffed her hands in her pockets. When she was dressed in greasy coveralls, she never knew if she should extend her hand to shake like a man or dip a polite curtsy like a lady. She settled for looking him in the eye. “How can I help you?”

  He withdrew a small piece of paper from his inside coat pocket and held it out. “I represent the Dayton-Wright Aeroplane Company.”

  She took the card. His name was printed in small letters above the larger ones of his company and their location in Ohio. “Wright? As in Orville and Wilbur Wright?”

  “The very ones.” He grinned like she’d passed some kind of test. “We believe aeroplanes will revolutionize travel in the next twenty years the way automobiles have the past twenty. We are looking for an adventurous female who will travel the country as an aerial stunt pilot to show off the safety and maneuverability of our aeroplanes.”

  Her heartbeat quivered like a sputtering engine. “Stunt pilot? But I don’t know how to fly a plane.”

  “Hardly anyone does, Miss Caplan, and most who do are fighting the war. We want to make aeroplanes … friendlier, so we’re recruiting women. Don’t worry, we’ll teach you how to fly.”

  As Mr. Walpole described the job, she listened, scarcely able to believe what he was saying.

  He must have noticed her shock, because he offered her a kind smile. “I realize this is a great deal to think about, but I do need an answer by the end of today.”

  Jolene’s jaw slid down. “Today is awful fast, sir.”

  “I’m aware, but I’m heading back to Ohio tomorrow morning. You are our first choice for this position, Miss Caplan. We can train anyone to fly, but we want you. Your face is one that can launch a thousand ships, as the saying goes. Your family name is known, you’re clearly able to handle the nomadic lifestyle of traveling cross-country, and your skill as a mechanic means we can also train you to fix your own plane.” His smile seemed a little too bright. “There are plenty of others who would be willing to fill the role given the generous salary.”

  Had he already told her the amount, or was he fishing for her to ask? “Which is?”

  “Two thousand dollars a year.”

  She pressed a hand over her open mouth. In the last few months, she’d sneaked out to visit a few banks within walking distance of the various fairs and exhibitions on the circuit to ask if she could purchase a house on her own. All of the loan managers had said the same thing: “A single woman is too great a risk. Of course, if you were married …”

  But two thousand dollars a year! In one year, she would be able to buy a house without a bank loan! With a home of her own, she could get work, find a church, and seek out some nice woman to teach her gardening and canning. She might even find a man both she and her parents loved. In two years? Why, she’d have enough money to live comfortably for three or four years in case finding work or a husband proved difficult. Or that might even give enough time for the Montgomery and Caplan families to reconcile so she and Robert—if he made it home from the war and still wanted her—could marry.

  Mr. Walpole’s brown eyes twinkled. “I thought that might sweeten the offer.”

  Jolene nodded.

  “Does that mean you’ll take it?”

  Behind him, Jolene’s mother beckoned with broad sweeps of her arms. Jolene waved to acknowledge she saw. “I’ll have to discuss it with my parents, Mr. Walpole, but I will get back to you before day’s end.”

  “Excellent.” He clapped his hands together. “I’ll be in the grandstand to enjoy the auto polo match this afternoon. I’ll look forward to hearing from you by then if not sooner.” He pinched his hat brim again and walked away.

  Jolene stared after him, her legs unwilling to obey her mother’s summons.

  Two thousand dollars. A place of her own away from constant bitterness, regret, and expectations. The offer was too good to be true.

  Especially since it came with the opportunity to fly!

  When the team had been in Cincinnati ten months ago, her birthday present was a ride in a hot-air balloon. It had been the most magical experience in her twenty years. As the balloon lifted, so did her spirit, until she felt so close to God she was certain she could touch His face. Since then, every bird overhead made her long for the freedom of flight.

  She tucked Mr. Walpole’s business card deep in her coverall pocket and walked toward her mother, each step as labored as if molasses coated the soles of her shoes.

  “Who was that?” Mom put a hand on the small of Jolene’s back and pushed her up the three steps into the house-car.

  “Just a man I thought wanted to see the cars.” It wasn’t a complete fib. Jolene picked up the bar of soap, towel, and change of clothes sitting on the kitchen table. “Is my bath ready?”

  “Yes.” Mom grabbed one of Jolene’s hands. “Please try to get all this grease off before you put on the gloves. They’re brand-new.”

  Jolene trudged back outside. Her bath was a half barrel filled with water. Three folding screens formed a triangle of privacy. What she wouldn’t give for a house with indoor plumbing and a bathtub she could actually sit in.

  After secreting Mr. Walpole’s business card in her skirt pocket—she couldn’t risk Mother finding it when she washed the coveralls later in the day—Jolene stripped off her clothes and stepped inside the barrel. The water was already tepid. As she scrubbed black grease from her skin with the harsh lye soap, one thought plagued her:

  Robert, my darling, if only you had left me with hope….

  Chapter 2

  Robert swung his crutches forward and leaned into another step. The fairgoers parted around him, some offering salutes as he passed.

  A broken ankle was a small price to pay to leave the battlefield. The way things were going, the war would be over before he was healed and could be sent back.

  At least he hoped so.

  He’d joined the army to cure himself of loving Jolene Caplan. It didn’t work. But the horrific view of what family feuds cost when the w
arring parties were a German kaiser against his cousins, the king of England and the tsar of Russia, cured Robert of whatever nonsense stood between his parents and Jolene’s. It also cured him of wanderlust. He’d seen enough of the world. He wanted a home and family.

  With Jolene.

  Robert shuffled through the crowd until he found the Fisher Scone booth. Jolene’s sweet tooth would eventually draw her to the gooey goodness of a fresh-baked pastry filled with melted butter and sweet raspberry jam.

  Unable to resist the delicious treat himself, he purchased a scone and ate it while surveying the area for the best place to wait. An entrance to the grandstand provided concealment. He wanted to surprise her, but he didn’t want anyone from his family or hers to find him before he was ready. When he reached the spot, he rested his back against the portico wall and eased the crutches from under his armpits.

  Fear trickled down his throat.

  What if she’d forgotten all about him? He’d told her to find someone new, someone more worthy. What if she had?

  His hand fisted around the now empty scone wrapper.

  A large white hat with a blue bow bobbed closer. Robert’s heart pumped like he was waiting for the command to advance. He tossed the wrapper in a nearby garbage can and pushed away from the wall, balancing his weight by angling both crutches in front of him.

  The crowd parted enough for him to glimpse her face.

  Jolene.

  How he’d missed her!

  She got in line to purchase a scone. He fitted the crutches under his arms and took a step toward her.

  Look at me. C’mon, sweetheart. Look over here.

  As though she heard his silent plea, Jolene turned and looked right at him. Her blue eyes widened and her pretty mouth dropped open. Her glowing beauty stole his breath.

  “Robert?” She made her way through the crowd, picking up speed as it thinned.

  “Hi, JoJo.”

  She threw her arms around his neck, knocking him against the wall and bumping his ankle cast, but he retained enough balance to toss away one crutch and press her close.