"Yes?" she answered, breathless.
"We have to get back to town before it gets dark," he released her and moved away.
Cora felt utterly disappointed. Although she knew that it would not be proper for him to have kissed her like that — it was bad enough that she had agreed to go with him alone — she desperately wished he had.
"Oh," she said.
They walked back to the horse and proceeded to head back into town. They remained silent for most of the ride. Cora felt that Matthew was waging an internal battle, the reason why he hadn't kissed her back at the ranch. She was disappointed for sure, but she also respected him for maintaining his boundaries with her.
As they galloped up to the store, Ivan came out to greet them.
"Good evening Ivan," Matthew spoke.
The older gentlemen eyed them as he noticed who was on the back of Matthew's horse. He wisely said nothing.
"Good evening Matthew and Cora," he said. "Cora, I came to find you. It seems that the coach arrived a few days early and is planning on returning tonight."
Cora felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Although she had spent the greater part of the past few days wishing the coach would come, now that it was here, she felt hesitant to leave. She turned to look at Matthew as she slid off the horse; his face was a mask of impassivity.
"Well," Ivan interrupted them as they looked at each other, "Miriam has your bags all packed and ready."
He was interrupted by a shrill, commanding voice.
Cora recognized it instantly as that of Mrs. Carmichael.
"Matthew?!" she called as she noticed him sitting astride the horse. "Is that you?" The well-dressed figure of the imperious Mrs. Carmichael strode forward to meet them.
"Mother?" Matthew looked confused and quickly dismounted.
"Well of course, I told you I would be coming, did I not?" she said in her usual superior tone.
"But the coach was not due for another few days "
"On the normal schedule it isn't," she began. "But when Lucille Carmichael is a passenger, special exceptions are made." She came toward Matthew and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Good to see you are well, son."
Mrs. Carmichael then turned to toward Cora and Ivan, her face expectant.
"Ivan Johnson, ma'am," Ivan stepped forward and extended his hand in greeting.
Mrs. Carmichael gave his hand a look as if it were a rat that had scurried across her feet. "Charmed," she said without extending hers.
Ivan cleared his throat uncomfortably and stepped back.
Cora was next. The last time she had seen Lucille Carmichael was the day she had dragged Matthew from their yard while scolding him for talking to the Morgan girls. She was the reason why Matthew could never be with Cora, although ironically enough, she was also the reason why Matthew had placed the ad that would summon Cora to him.
"Cora," she said, hesitant to add her last name.
"And who are your parents," she asked boldly.
At that moment, Matthew stepped in next to her and put his arm around Cora. She was surprised by his gesture.
"Mother," he began. "This is Cora Morgan...my fiancée."
Cora gaped, Mrs. Carmichael gaped, and Ivan just leaned back on his heels and grinned.
"A Morgan?!" she exclaimed with deafening anger.
"Yes, about that," he began. "I never quite understood your hatred of the family, they are, after all, quite lovely," he smiled down at Cora.
"Because —" Mrs. Carmichael began, then broke off.
"Yes?" all three voices turned to her in unison, searching for the answer.
Mrs. Carmichael paused, as if she was searching for the answer herself. "I –" she began then broke off, "think Mrs. Morgan broke a dinner plate," she said sheepishly. She no longer looked so intimidating and foreboding.
Cora was stunned. This age long feud was because of a dinner plate? It was all ridiculous and strange — but not as strange as Matthew referring to her as his fiancée.
Matthew stepped in first and said exactly what was on everyone's mind. "How ridiculous. Are you saying we shunned the Morgan’s — who were longtime family friends I might add — over a dinner plate?"
Mrs. Carmichael sniffed hotly. "It was a very nice dinner plate," she added.
Cora snorted, she couldn’t help it, and she just found the whole thing so funny. Hard as she tried, she couldn't hold back the laughter. She laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes and she struggled to catch her breath.
Her snorts of laughter had everyone cackling at the ridiculousness of the situation. Even Mrs. Carmichael's stiff upper lip curled in a bit at the corners as she fought to resist the waves of laughter that rolled over the small group.
Through heaving breaths, Cora finally spoke. "Well Matthew Carmichael, you might as well tell her about the ranch."
"Might as well," he shrugged. "Mother, I do not own a ranch, but I do manage one part time, at least when I am not bartending at the saloon."
Mrs. Carmichael's eyes flared and the smile vanished from her lips.
"But seeing that you initiated a decade long feud over a dinner plate," he reminded her, "I think you can let me off the hook."
"I see that I have been a complete failure in raising you," she said disdainfully.
"Quite the contrary, if it wasn't for you, I would never have become acquainted with Cora," he turned to her and smiled.
Cora beamed back up at him. "Well, Mr. Carmichael, but what is this business about me being your fiancée?" she asked. "Last time I checked, you hadn't asked."
Matthew reached into his front coat pocket — the one opposite the sleeping Bartholomew who hadn't awoken despite the loud chaos — and produced Cora's acceptance letter. "It says right here that I asked you," he waved it in the air.
"Yes, but from my understanding, I have to meet you and then agree to the marriage before it is valid," she added.
"Exactly," he said. And with a gleam in his eye he spoke, "And do you? Agree that is? I may not be the great ranch owner you thought, but I have access to one," he teased.
She whacked him lightly on the shoulder. "I need more than just a ranch Matthew," she said.
"How about a man that has fallen hopelessly in love with you?" he asked as his face suddenly became serious.
Cora gasped. "You have?" she asked. Their little audience melted away in Cora's mind, as she focused only on the man before her, the declaration of his love ringing in her ears.
"You're feisty, beautiful, daring, kind, and adventurous," he said. "I am sorry for my initial deception, but I don't regret that it brought you to me. I can't imagine spending another day without you," he added.
Cora looked up at him from under her lashes. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had dreamt about this day for most of her life, and although it was different than her fantasy, she couldn't have imagined it any better. "Yes," she breathed.
Matthew broke out into a wide smile and swept her up in his arms. "I promise to always make you happy Cora." He leaned in to kiss her.
"And create the opportunity for adventures?" she asked.
He smiled, "Yes, as long as I have you, life already is the greatest adventure."
He brought his lips down to meet hers in a passionate kiss. Cora felt her toes curl with delight as his strong arms came around her small waist in a lovers' embrace.
"Me too," Cora sighed as Matthew deepened the kiss and swept her off her feet.
The End
Return to the TOC for Bonus Content
Montana Bride
Chapter One
There was a crystal chandelier that hung just above the dancing couples, casting them all in diamond rays of light. It was a beautiful scene, framed by clusters of flowers and mirrors that looked as though they were ten feet tall. It was an elegant visage, and yet, despite Rachel’s direct gaze, it could not hold her attention.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” Miranda asked as she came up behind Rachel.
Rachel shrugged as she passed her mother a cursory glance. “I don’t want to.”
“Don’t shrug,” Miranda said severely. “A lady does not shrug.”
“Oh mother,” Rachel sighed. “No one cares.”
Miranda shot her a stern look. “I’ll thank you to conduct yourself with propriety in the company of our friends.”
Rachel couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped her. “Friends?” she said sceptically. “They are hardly our friends.”
“Lower your tone,” Miranda whispered. “Or someone will hear you.”
“I really don’t care,” Rachel shot back defiantly.
Miranda moved in front of her, concealing the dancing couples that Rachel had been watching. “What is wrong with you this evening?” she asked in her no-nonsense tone.
“I didn’t want to come tonight,” Rachel said flatly.
“And why not?” her mother asked.
“Because I have to endure the same monotonous evening over and over again. I’m tired of it. There’s nothing… new to see, there’s nothing interesting. It’s the same old people, saying the same old things. Gossip, gossip, and more gossip, that’s all anyone ever does at these events. That’s all people ever do in this society.”
“Really Rachel,” Miranda said in shocked whispers. “Is that any way to talk?”
“It’s the truth,” Rachel said, looking directly at her mother for emphasis.
Her mother fixed her with a stony gaze. “Once you have married and settled down, all this silly talk of monotony and boredom will cease, and you will at last become a part of society.”
Rachel shook her head. “You don’t understand mother,” she said wearily. “Even if I were to marry, it would change nothing. My life would be exactly the same, I would manage the house and the staff, and I would wear pretty dresses and go to dances and dinners and partake in the gossip of the night.”
Miranda all but raised her hands in frustration. “And what on earth is the matter with that?”
“There’s nothing here mother,” Rachel said gently. “There’s no real living to be done here. There’s no adventure, no sense that life means something.”
“You are being very silly,” Miranda said with a shake of her head. “And ungrateful. You’re father and I have done everything to make sure you want for nothing.”
“And while I appreciate all that you and papa have done for me, I long to venture out on my own, and live my life.”
Miranda reached out and pushed back a loose lock of Rachel’s hair. “It is not proper for a respectable woman to ‘venture out on her own’. While you are unmarried, you’re place is with your father and I. And once we have found you a suitable partner, then you will be able to have the adventure you crave.”
Rachel gave her mother a look of disbelief. “Adventure?” she repeated. “It will be the same life in a different house. It will be your life mother.”
Miranda looked at Rachel carefully. “I think it is high time you were married. What you need is not adventure. What you need is a husband.”
She turned and walked away before Rachel could respond, her rust-colored satin dress catching the lights from the chandelier overhead. Rachel knew that she would never be able to make her mother understand where she was coming from. There was no way to explain to her parents that the life they had lived and loved was not the one that she desired for herself. She saw her future if she stayed where she was, and she could almost feel the color draining from her life.
It was while she was standing there in the shadows of the ballroom, that Rachel considered the possibility that her mother may be right about one thing; perhaps she did need a husband. Not a man like those who stood before her, men who attended dances and courted young ladies and cared about their clothes. No, she would need a different man, a man who could liberate her from the claustrophobia of her current situation and give her the freedom she craved.
Rachel stared around the crowded ballroom and the scene before her faded away as a new possible future took shape before her. It was a bold decision, but Rachel understood that she would never achieve what she desired if she wasn’t willing to be bold. Adventure had never been for the faint-hearted.
Chapter Two
Rachel had never set eyes on a place like Montana before. It stretched on for miles and miles without end. The sky seemed bigger, the air seemed cleaner, and the colors seemed brighter.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere ma’am?”
Rachel turned in the direction of the drawling older gentleman that stood before her. He was wearing dirty grey trousers and suspenders that looked as though they had seen better days. He had a brilliant handlebar moustache that hid a kind smile.
“No, no thank you,” Rachel said hurriedly. “I’m waiting for someone actually. His name is Cole Dalton.”
“Why, you must be his new bride,” the man said as his eyes lit up with delight. “And as pretty as a picture you are.”
Rachel inclined her head at the compliment but she couldn’t summon the usual delight. She was starting to feel the heat and her legs had begun to ache. “Do you know how far Mr Dalton’s ranch is?” she asked, wondering if she would be forced to make the journey there alone.
“Too far for walking ma’am,” the man replied. “I can take you there in the evening.”
Rachel was considering the offer when a horse and buggy pulled up a few feet away from where she stood. The horse’s hooves kicked up such a storm of sand that Rachel had to shield her eyes and take a step back. She was wiping the dirt from her eyes when a high pitched little voice called her name.
“Are you the Parker woman? Rachel Parker?”
Rachel felt herself bristle at the undignified manner in which she had been addressed, but she straightened herself up and looked towards the rider. Where she had expected a young man with a high voice, she was faced with a small boy in dirt-stained trousers and a straw hat. She composed herself quickly and masked her surprise, a trait that she was glad her mother had so effectively ingrained into her.
“Yes,” Rachel nodded with dignity. “I am Rachel Parker.”
“Hop on then,” the boy said abruptly. “We best be getting on.”
Rachel moved towards the buggy and looked at it with panic rising in her breast. There was no way she could get into it with anything close to dignity. She maintained an air of unconcern, as she turned to the seated boy who was regarding her with a steely blue-eyed gaze.
“You will need to help me with my things,” Rachel said.
He rolled his eyes without bothering to mask the expression and jumped down from the carriage. His hat flew off mid jump and a tumble of dark brown hair spilled free. Rachel felt her breath catch as she realized that he was not a boy at all.
“Dear Lord,” Rachel exclaimed. “You’re a little girl.”
“There ain’t nothing little about me,” the child snapped at her, her blue eyes blazing as she stepped forward and grabbed Rachel’s bag. She threw it unceremoniously into the trap and looked at Rachel threateningly, as though daring her to make another observation.
Rachel heard a chuckle behind her and the older gentleman who had spoken to her earlier stepped forward.
“Don’t mind the chikkabiddy,” he said. “She may look wild, but she doesn’t bite.”
“How would you know?” the girl asked, as she grabbed a hold of the horse’s reins and jumped back into her seat with catlike grace.
He ignored the comment and offered a hand to Rachel to help her into the wagon. She accepted his help gratefully and managed to climb into the shaky cart and onto its sand strewn seat. “Thank you so much for your help sir,” Rachel said.
“The name’s Isaiah Pickett ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat. “It was a pleasure indeed.”
Impatient with the exchange, the girl spurred the horse forward, kicking up another whirlwind of sand as they made their way through the main town. Rachel swallowed back her thirst, wishing that she could lean back into a cush
ioned backrest without fear of smudging her dress.
“It was right stupid of you to wear white,” the girl said without bothering to turn her head.
Rachel’s journey had been long and hard and her patience was at its end. She wasn’t sure why her new husband had thought it fit to hire a child to work on his ranch, but if it were to be so, she would have to take it upon herself to teach the child respect.
“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” she said curtly. “Now how much longer to the ranch?”
“Awhile,” the girl replied.
Rachel sighed but didn’t insist upon an elaboration. She was too tired to attempt discipline at that particular moment. The journey to the ranch took longer than she had anticipated, but when they finally turned a sharp bend in the road, Rachel saw miles and miles of green grass, enclosures, and cattle grazing in the furthest field.
It was so picturesque that for just a moment, she forgot her fatigue and gave into admiration. The ranch house was smaller than she had expected, but it looked sturdy and full of character. Rachel managed to get off the wagon by herself and she was dusting off her skirts when she heard someone approach.
The man coming towards her was tall, broad-shouldered, and lean. He had a long face that hollowed in at the cheeks and sharp blue eyes that pierced Rachel at first glance. He was younger than she had expected and more handsome than she had dared hope. The only thing that unsettled her was his lack of smile. He gazed at her with unblinking curiosity, making her blush under his scrutiny.
Rachel was suddenly painfully aware of her own appearance and she felt the need to run her fingers through her hair or pinch her cheeks for color. She stayed her hand and thanked God for her golden hair and her ash-grey eyes. They were features that didn’t require grooming or highlighting to be considered beautiful.
“Good evening ma’am,” he said, stopping short a few feet from where she stood.
“You may call me Rachel,” she said. After all, he was to be her husband.
“Rachel then,” he nodded. “I’m Cole.”
“Yes, I know,” Rachel said with a smile.
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