The Blue Ribbon Brides Collection

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

  “Never mind, I bet I can guess,” Millie continued before Paige could answer. She folded her arms. “You’re thinking about Charlie and what he said to you just before you came here, and you’re wondering if his matter-of-fact suggestion is all you’re going to get.” She wagged a finger in Paige’s direction. “And you’re back to wishing something different or better would happen. You’re dwelling on what you don’t have instead of thanking God for what you do.”

  Her friend was right, but it didn’t stop the pain of Paige’s predictable life. The man who had never really officially courted her had reached the age of twenty-five and decided it was time to put a check mark in front of the next item on his list for life. And that’s when he told her he thought they should talk about when they would marry. No fanfare. No sentiment. Just the facts. It all made sense, but was it what she wanted? Or was it just what everyone expected?

  “Charlie is a very nice man.” Paige raised her hand. “He’s intelligent, hardworking, devoted,” she said, tapping out each adjective on a fingertip. “Trustworthy, dependable.”

  “Always happy to greet you,” Millie chimed in. “Content to stay right by your side.”

  Paige nodded. “Yes. That’s Charlie all right.”

  “I hate to say this, Paige, but you might as well describe your favorite dog instead of a man who has for the most part offered marriage to you.”

  Paige grimaced. Had it really sounded that bad? “I’m sorry, Millie. I didn’t intend to drag you into my melancholy state.” She gestured toward the tables around them. “I think a big reason I agree to supervise this part of the fair each year is it gives me something to look forward to. The judging is full of excitement, and it brings me to a place where people come from all over the state of Wyoming to gather in droves for this one week. They’re all eager to go home with one of those prized blue ribbons, or maybe even win the one hundred dollars offered by the Wyoming State Tribune to the winner of the spelling bee. But each time I walk the fair and see a smiling couple, I’m reminded yet again that I’m alone.”

  Sympathy filled Millie’s eyes. She stepped forward and clasped Paige’s hands in her own. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me.” Paige raised one eyebrow and Millie conceded. “All right, seriously. You’ll find that special someone. You just have to trust God and believe He knows what’s best.”

  Paige offered a quick prayer of thanks for bringing Millie into her life and providing such a dear friend. “My head knows that, but it’s not easy convincing my heart, especially when evening comes at the fair and I see all those happy pairs holding hands, oblivious to everyone around them.” She released a sigh, blowing a loose tendril of hair from her eyes in the process. “It’s enough to send me into a fit of doldrums!”

  Millie gave Paige’s hands a squeeze. “Be patient. It’ll happen for you when it’s time.”

  Paige pulled away and turned toward the back wall. “You know, I can’t tell you how old that sage piece of advice is. ‘Be patient.’ ‘God knows best.’ ‘It’s not time yet.’” She repeated the myriad of pat lines she’d heard over the years, each one meant to offer comfort but instead only offering more frustration. “I know God’s trying to teach me patience, but I sure wish He’d hurry up and do it!”

  A laugh burst from Millie, and Paige couldn’t keep a small grin from her lips. Half expecting the words that were sure to come next, she whipped around and pointed a finger in Millie’s direction. “And don’t you say it!”

  Millie held her hands up in front of her and waved them. “I wouldn’t dare. I’d be too afraid of your wrath if I did!”

  Paige narrowed her eyes and cocked her head as she watched Millie. The woman barely contained her mirth, and a snicker escaped her lips. With a huff, Paige headed for the quilting area.

  “Good things come to those who wait,” Millie’s voice sounded from behind.

  “Argh!” Paige looked up at the roof. “Millie, you promised.”

  Millie skittered back to where she’d been working with a mischievous grin lighting her face. “I know, but I couldn’t resist.” She winked then bent her head to focus on her task.

  “You know, if you were a better friend, you’d be more supportive,” Paige called, raising her voice to be heard.

  “If I were a better friend, I’d knock you upside the head and shake some sense into you.”

  “I have plenty of sense.”

  “Prove it,” came her friend’s challenge.

  “All right, that’s enough.” Paige stomped in the direction of Millie’s voice but didn’t find her there. She placed her hands on her hips. “Where are you?”

  “Right here.”

  Millie rose up to be seen over the top of a table full of knickknacks and handmade items in various assortments. With a mock glare, Paige pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. Times like these made her wonder how she and Millie ever put up with each other. They needled each other more than anything, but that’s probably why they got along so well. They each gave as well as they took.

  “Look, just because I get upset over certain things and share my frustrations with you, it doesn’t mean I don’t have any sense.”

  “No, I agree. Dwelling on it doesn’t help any, though.”

  But talking helped Paige get her feelings out in the open so she could deal with them. If she brushed them aside, it only made her feel worse.

  “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

  Millie turned a random knickknack around and around in her hand and shrugged as she placed it back on the table. “I am in those same shoes, remember?”

  Oh. Yes. Millie didn’t have a romantic suitor, either, though her friend had never suffered from the lack of them over the years.

  “So why does this not bother you the way it does me?”

  “Look at how often you talk about it. You spend so much time wishing for what you think you don’t have, when you should be counting the blessings in your life … like a family who loves you, work you enjoy, and a God who has a plan for your happiness.”

  “I know, but all the women in my family married young. For as far back as I can remember, they were wives and mothers before they reached eighteen.” Paige headed closer to the front of the hall. “Here I am at twenty-two, and the best I can get is a man who seems to have checked ‘tell Paige it’s time to set a date’ off his to-do list.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t miss it when the kind of love you’re seeking does manage to find you.”

  “Oh, believe me. When I find it, I’ll know.”

  Millie placed the final two crafted items on the table and turned to face Paige. She smiled then her gaze shifted to just over Paige’s shoulder and her smile disappeared as her eyes widened. With a catch in her throat, Paige froze.

  Someone was standing behind her.

  A chill ran up her back, but she fought off the shiver. Should she turn around and greet the person, or should she immerse herself in some menial task and leave Millie to handle it?

  Before Paige could make a decision, Millie rushed forward. “Can we help you?”

  With forced nonchalance, Paige turned then quickly concealed the soft gasp that almost escaped. A well-dressed gentleman stood just inside the main door to the hall. The stranger’s dark brown hair, strong jawline, and broad shoulders only complemented his neatly pressed double-breasted tan suit and felt hat set just slightly askew on his head. Even worse. He had to be attractive, too.

  “Yes,” the gentleman spoke. “My name’s Andrew Lawrence. I’m wondering if either of you fine ladies might point me in the direction of the Administration building or the director’s office.”

  Paige fidgeted with the pleats in her skirt and fingered the strand of beads hanging from her neck with her other hand. She swallowed once. Twice. Then, she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  The stranger grinned, one corner of his mouth quirking up slightly higher than the other. “Has the cat got your tongue, miss?”

  She
tried again to speak. No such luck. Millie came to her rescue.

  “If you follow the causeway to the end and turn right, the building you seek will be just around the corner.”

  “Many thanks,” the man replied, reaching up to tip his hat to both of them. “Perhaps once I get my affairs settled, I’ll have the opportunity to return and engage both of you charming ladies in more extensive conversation.”

  With a slight bow and a final glance in Paige’s direction, the gentleman disappeared. Was that a wink he’d just given her? No. Surely she’d only imagined it. Why on earth would he wink? They’d barely met, and thanks to her addlepated brain, they hadn’t even exchanged any words.

  Millie stepped close and gave her a nudge. “Well, that was a first. You, unable to talk.”

  Paige swallowed and wet her lips. “I honestly don’t know what happened. I tried to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come out.”

  “If you ask me, I think you’re smitten,” Millie teased then glanced toward the door. “He was quite handsome.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “Who allowed that reporter in here?” a sharp voice demanded from the side door of the hall. “He’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow to cover the preliminary results of the first round of judging.” A plump form moved slowly toward the girls.

  “Mrs. Waverly!” both girls chorused.

  “I told him to make his way to the Administration building and gave him explicit instructions on how to find it.”

  That gentleman was a reporter? And he already knew how to find the building he needed? So, why did he stop into the Ag Hall, when it was clearly marked on the outside and obviously not where he was supposed to be headed? Paige’s chest tightened as she recalled his amused gaze. There was no doubt in her mind that he had heard some of her conversation with Millie. But just how much?

  “Did he see anything or take any notes? Was he here long?” Mrs. Waverly’s frantic yet irritated voice cut into Paige’s musings.

  “No, ma’am,” Paige replied.

  “He asked us for directions, and then he left,” Millie added.

  “Strange.” The dowager woman pursed her lips. “I’m certain I already provided that to him.” She waved a hand of dismissal in the air. “Never you mind about that. Let’s see what kind of progress you girls have made.”

  Paige led Mrs. Waverly around the hall, showcasing each area and the neatly arranged tables. She and Millie answered the older woman’s questions, but Paige’s mind was still back on that reporter. Why had he come into the Ag Hall? Was it mere curiosity about all the blue ribbon contender items, or could he have possibly heard them talking from outside and decided to investigate? Whatever his reason, Paige knew she’d see him again the next day. Maybe she’d be able to actually talk to him this time and ask.

  Chapter 2

  Opening day had finally arrived! Paige waited all year for this week to come. She stood with her hands wrapped around the broom she held and looked north. The location of the Ag Hall afforded her a clear view of the main gate. Fair attendees staggered through the entrance, their clothing as diverse as the prizes in the vendor booths along the midway. The farmers and cowboys came in blue jeans and boots, while the gentlemen came in simple suits with or without outer jackets. The ladies’ outfits, however, varied quite a bit more.

  Skirt hems settled anywhere from the ankles to just above the knees. Hairstyles varied from the more modern bob or fashionable upsweep to the traditional long braid hanging down the back and everything in between. Paige reached up and touched her own pinned hair that fell to about the middle of her back. Should she follow the fashion and cut hers as well? As she swept, she continued to watch the entrance. She never saw such an array of dress styles and fashions in her everyday visits to town throughout the year.

  The well-dressed attendees came mostly from Cheyenne, or even Denver. Folks in Casper and Sheridan or other towns around the state had no reason for those fancier clothes. The state fair and especially the rodeo brought such variety from all over Wyoming and even neighboring states as well.

  It was quite a sight to behold.

  “Miss Callahan?” The stern voice of Mrs. Waverly commanded Paige’s attention.

  Paige turned from sweeping the entryway. Clearing the dust might be a futile exercise, thanks to the seemingly constant winds along the eastern plains, but she did it anyway. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I need you to walk over to the Peabody Pavilion and Greenhouse and take a message to one of the judges there.” She held out an envelope.

  After leaning the broom against the wall, a few brisk steps brought Paige to her supervisor. She reached for the envelope, but Mrs. Waverly retracted it slightly, one eyebrow raised and her head tilted. Paige recognized that look. Despite her hard work and dedication every year for the past six years, Mrs. Waverly still treated her like a child who couldn’t be trusted.

  “The judges aren’t due here to the Ag Hall until after the noon hour, but this message must be delivered with great haste as it pertains to the order and schedule we’ll be following this afternoon. Will you be able to handle that?”

  The very same schedule the two of them had discussed just two days prior when they were first receiving the entered items for judging? Paige wanted to remind Mrs. Waverly that she was no longer a young girl, but she doubted the woman would even hear her. “Yes, ma’am,” she said instead. “I’ll go straightaway.”

  “Very well.” Mrs. Waverly passed the envelope to Paige. “Please don’t dawdle.”

  Paige spread her lips into a smile as she exited the Ag Hall. Mrs. Waverly meant well, but she could do with a little improvement in the execution of her requests. She had been overseeing the blue ribbon awards since the first state fair twenty years ago, and she’d even kept it running when her husband and two sons were called off to the Great War but never returned. Paige had been assigned as her assistant the following year, and knowledge of Mrs. Waverly’s dedication in the midst of her grieving spread throughout all the fair workers. Despite her brusque nature, she’d taken Paige under her wing and trained her in every aspect pertaining to events and procedures inside or around the Ag Hall.

  Crossing the narrow patch of grass before reaching the main thoroughfare leading south from the front gate, Paige waited for several clusters of people to pass before she headed for the path between the midway and the arenas. It might not be the most direct, but it was likely the least traveled. “Please don’t dawdle,” Mrs. Waverly had said. She wouldn’t. There’d be time enough throughout the week to enjoy all the fair had to offer.

  As she walked toward the greenhouse at the far west side of the fairgrounds, the pounding of horses’ hooves sounded from the arena to her left as a cacophony of carnival barkers’ voices sang out to her right.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Step right up and get your tickets to some of the best games and challenges this side of the Mississippi.”

  “Come and toss the rings. Fifty cents gets you five rings. Everyone’s a winner.”

  “Here’s your chance to practice your pitching, boys. Hit the target and send our young man swimming. Three baseballs for twenty-five cents.”

  Paige smiled. Her older brother, Matthew, had volunteered one year for that booth. He’d vowed to never do it again after the town’s baseball team showed up for pitching practice. He’d spent more time in the water than out of it.

  As she neared the carnival area, her gaze caught sight of the new steel grandstands, their backs to the carousel and three-story slide. They were about half-full now with a handful of demonstrations and competitions taking place between the three arenas. The midmorning sun glinted off the shiny metal surfaces, and Paige shielded her eyes. A few steps more and she reached the shadow of the grandstands, now on the edge of the carnival area.

  “Tickets! Tickets!” another barker shouted to her left. “Get your tickets. Ferris wheel, carousel, pony rides, Over the Jumps, scooter cars, and trolley rides. Get your t
ickets here!”

  Oh, she’d definitely have to make a point to at least visit the scooter cars. Construction of the pavilion that housed that amusement had taken several months. More comfortable on a bicycle than a scooter, Paige didn’t know if she’d actually purchase a ticket or simply be a spectator. Sidestepping another cluster of people coming from the direction of the midway and heading toward the Ferris wheel, she turned to the right and made her way to the Peabody Pavilion.

  Five minutes later, she stepped outside again and looked south toward the camping sites. A short bit of track for the trolley car ride stretched parallel to the walking path on the outside of the grounds just past the Ferris wheel. The fair committee had certainly outdone themselves this year in presentation and attractions. Paige could hardly wait for the judging in her area to conclude so she could have a little fun.

  She turned to the west and faced the river, which bordered the fairgrounds to the west. Papa loved having the North Platte so close to livestock pavilions. Made it easy to get water for the horses he ran in the roundup wagon races as well as what he called his prize-winning bull. He’d been trying for years to see his bull selected for the rodeo. Paige prayed this would be his year.

  Raised and heated voices just ahead of her drew her attention as she walked to the rear of the greenhouse. Stopping in her tracks, she took note of five men facing off near one of the livestock paddocks. Three of them stood face-to-face against the other two, and by the looks on their faces, the words they spoke were anything but friendly.

  An inner voice told her to keep moving, but the prospect of a possible fight drew her like a child reaching out to touch a hot stove. It couldn’t possibly hurt to watch, could it? She’d heard of brawls from Matthew, but she’d never witnessed one firsthand. And the thrill of danger was too tempting to ignore.

  “I said I’d teach you a lesson with my fists if I caught you around my animals.”

  This came from the shortest of the five men, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in bravado.

  “And I told you we didn’t touch your animals. Your boy here”—the one on the defense pointed at a scrawny lad beside the first one who spoke—“he told you we was. But he should get his eyes checked.”