Once a Mail Order Bride

by Bold, Diana

  Chapter Four

  THE TWO-HOUR TRIP TO town was made in utter silence. When they topped the ridge that overlooked Milton, Sarah nearly whooped with joy. Only a few more minutes and she’d be rid of the disturbing stranger sitting on the wagon seat beside her.

  Embarrassment flooded her whenever she thought of her unwarranted optimism as she’d cooked Luke breakfast this morning. During their pleasant dinner the night before, she’d been lulled into thinking there might be something in this awkward situation worth salvaging.

  Now she wondered why she’d even considered it. Her first impression of Luke Chandler had been correct. He was nothing but a drunken lout.

  Her gaze shifted unbidden to his beautiful profile, to his thick, black lashes and perfectly formed lips. An incredibly handsome drunken lout, she amended.

  The mere thought of him, half-naked and aroused in his kitchen, was enough to make her weak in the knees. But he was more trouble than she needed.

  Luke glanced in her direction for the first time since they’d left his house. She was mortified that he’d caught her staring. His stormy gray gaze shifted away, toward the back end of his horse. “Do you still want me to talk to William Cole about that teaching position?”

  “No,” she stated, her voice as rigid as her posture. “I don’t want any favors from you.”

  “Sarah...” A muscle twitched in his cheek, giving away his frustration. He brought the horses to a sudden halt and turned to look at her. “Ah, hell. I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him in stunned surprise, betting that apologies didn’t come easy for a man like him.

  He gave her hand a brief squeeze, leaving behind an impression of warmth and strength. “I feel responsible for you. I know I’ve behaved like an ass, but I want you to know you can come to me if you ever need help.”

  He felt responsible for her. Well, that wasn’t the response she was looking for, but it was a start.

  Sarah swallowed and fought to control her racing pulse. He leaned forward infinitesimally, and for one crazy, heated moment, she thought he might kiss her.

  For one foolish heartbeat, she wanted him to.

  “I know,” he muttered, easing away with a deprecating shrug. “I’m not exactly Lancelot.”

  She laughed, breaking the tension. “White knights are highly overrated.”

  One corner of Luke’s mouth lifted in a rueful, lopsided grin. “I hope everything works out for you, Sarah. You deserve that husband you’ve come so far to find.”

  Her earlier fury had faded, and it suddenly seemed very important to establish some sort of connection. “I’ll see you again, won’t I?” She couldn’t bear the thought of being totally alone in a strange town. “I’d like to be friends.”

  “Friends?” He laughed a bit at that. “I’ve never had a woman friend before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  Luke nodded. “All right, Sarah. Friends.” Then he headed the horses into town.

  SARAH ASKED LUKE TO drop her off at the local bank. He’d informed her that Mr. William Cole, the most influential man on the school board, could usually be found there at this time of day. She’d refused Luke’s offer to go along and smooth the way. He owed her nothing, after all. She’d already been enough of a bother. She had to do this on her own.

  Despite his eleventh-hour offer of friendship, Sarah thought he seemed glad to be rid of her. She watched him guide his team down the dusty street toward the general store and allowed herself a small sigh of regret.

  There had been moments when he’d actually been quite likable. Though she barely knew him, she’d seen enough to realize that he was deeply wounded and lashing out, like a wolf with a leg in a trap. Though he’d said and done some terrible things, he’d also shown her moments of kindness.

  Perhaps she’d see him again soon, but she doubted it. Luke Chandler seemed to like his solitude. It was too bad, because she’d never known anyone who needed someone more than he did. His loneliness clung to him like a shield. She could have helped him, if he’d only given her a chance.

  Squaring her shoulders, she strode up the steps and into the interior of the bank. Pausing on the threshold, she blinked to accustom herself to the dim lighting after the brightness of the street.

  A teller’s cage sat directly in front of her and a slim, mustachioed man stood behind it. “May I help you, miss?”

  “Yes.” She forced a smile and crossed the lobby. “I’m looking for Mr. Cole.”

  The teller gave her oft-mended dress and wind-ruffled hair a disdainful look. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Sarah flushed, humiliated to the tips of her toes. Obviously, he thought she wasn’t good enough to take up Mr. Cole’s time.

  “My name is Sarah Montgomery. Please ask Mr. Cole if he’ll see me.”

  The teller made a disapproving noise under his breath and disappeared behind an intimidating oak door. Several minutes passed before he returned and reluctantly admitted her into William Cole’s office.

  The room was meant to impress, and it did, from the massive mahogany desk to the rich, masculine decor. It even smelled of money.

  Mr. Cole stood when she entered. He was a distinguished older man with graying hair and a trim figure. He smiled and held out his hand. “Miss Montgomery. What a pleasure.”

  “Mr. Cole.” She shook his hand gratefully. His smile allayed some of her fears. Perhaps Luke had been right. Everything might work out for the best, after all. “It’s so good of you to see me.”

  “Sit down. Sit down.” He gestured to a stiff leather chair that faced the desk and waited for her to be seated before resuming his place behind it. “Did Chandler send you?”

  She nodded, clenching her hands in her lap, wondering how he’d made the connection. She’d hoped to omit any mention of Luke. She didn’t want to be further indebted to him.

  Mr. Cole eyed her with speculation. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was to hear Luke Chandler had sent away for a mail-order bride. I saw him just three weeks ago, and he never even mentioned it.”

  Dear Lord. No wonder he was being so nice. Despite his eccentric ways, Luke Chandler was obviously quite wealthy. Mr. Chandler probably assumed she would soon share that wealth.

  “We’re not getting married,” she interjected, intent on stopping this farce before it went any further.

  “Not getting married?” Mr. Cole frowned. “But my dear girl, you spent the night at his home, did you not?”

  “Well, yes,” she murmured, distressed. How could she have forgotten the way gossip spread in a small town? “It was late, and he offered me the use of his guest room, but I can assure you nothing happened.”

  “If you wish to salvage your reputation, I’m afraid you must marry him.” He sighed. “The man needs a wife and a few children. Perhaps then he’d take an interest in this town and come down from that mountain more than once a month. I know the sight of his...disability must have been a shock to you, but he’s financially secure, you needn’t worry about that.”

  Sarah stared down at her tightly clenched hands. “It has nothing to do with his disability.” She wasn’t about to admit that it was Luke who didn’t want this marriage.

  Mr. Cole seemed surprised. “What other reason could there be?”

  “It’s a private matter. I’d prefer not to discuss this any further.” Sarah took a calming breath and then plunged ahead, determined to dispense with this talk of Luke. “Mr. Chandler suggested I speak to you about obtaining a teaching position.”

  “You want to teach?” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

  “I’m well educated,” Sarah hastened to assure him. “I know Latin and French. I’m certain I could be quite an asset.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re educated. There simply isn’t a teaching position available at this time.”

  “Mr. Chandler led me to believe there was.”

  “Well...” Mr. Cole had the grace to look a lit
tle abashed. “Currently, my wife holds the position. I’d like to have her at home, but she enjoys working with the children. Until I can find a suitable replacement, I’m sure she’s the best one for the job.”

  “A suitable replacement?” Sarah struggled to keep a tight leash on her anger, but she was losing the battle. “Are you saying I’m not a suitable replacement?”

  Mr. Cole steepled his fingertips. “I couldn’t, in good conscience, hire a fortune-hunting tart. What kind of example would we be setting for our youngsters if we let a young lady with questionable morals teach them?”

  “Questionable morals?” He didn’t even know her! “How can you say such a thing? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you tried to sell yourself in marriage to a man you’ve never met. I know you spent the night in his home unchaperoned. That’s all I need to know.” He stood up, indicating the meeting was over. “I’ve nothing further to say to you, Miss Montgomery. Please leave.”

  Words of defense tumbled to Sarah’s lips, but she bit them back, knowing they were useless. Mr. Cole had already made up his mind. All she could do was pray the rest of the town wasn’t as closed-minded.

  Chapter Five

  JOHN TUCKER, THE TOWN blacksmith, clapped Luke on the back as he left the general store. “Congratulations, Chandler. I just heard the good news.”

  Luke frowned. John was easily the fifth person who’d congratulated him on his impending nuptials since he’d arrived in town. “I’m not getting married.”

  “What a pity.” John grinned and scratched his groin. “I hear she’s quite a looker. Mind if I court her? She’s gonna need a man to protect her.”

  John Tucker was well over six feet tall, burly as a bear, and had a mouth full of rotten, stinking teeth. His late wife had constantly borne marks of his abuse, and he had five or six filthy children at home. The thought of Sarah Montgomery at his mercy sent a stab of protective rage through Luke’s gut.

  “She’s a lady, John. Leave her alone.”

  “A lady, huh?” John held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hell, Chandler. Either marry her yourself or let the rest of us have a go at her. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “You’re right.” Luke set two bottles of whiskey on top of the rest of his supplies, resisting the urge to throw them in the bastard’s face. “I’m grouchier than a grizzly today. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. She’s none of my concern. Court her if you like.”

  John laughed. “It don’t take a genius to figure out what’s wrong with you, son. You’ve lived up there alone on that mountain for years, and now you’re sending away a perfectly good woman? Nope, it don’t take no genius.” He turned away, shaking his head, still laughing.

  Luke glared at his retreating back, then walked next door to the telegraph office. He gave the young man behind the counter his most withering stare, silently daring him to say a single word about Sarah.

  The boy swallowed, obviously wondering what he’d done to deserve such a look. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Luke nodded. “I need to send a telegram to Denver.”

  “All right. I just need you to fill this out.” The boy handed Luke a pencil and a piece of paper.

  Luke stared at the blank page for a moment, trying to think of a way to convey his anger to Matt without being profane. Finally, he scribbled a terse message asking for the pleasure of his brother’s company and then handed it back to the clerk.

  He paid for the telegram and left the office, intent upon getting out of town. He needed to leave before he made an even bigger fool of himself. The gossips already had enough ammunition. Stories would fly tonight about how one-legged Luke Chandler had sent away his mail-order bride, and then become furious when another man had mentioned his desire to court her.

  Unfortunately, the bank lay between the general store and the edge of town. Sarah stood on the steps, looking rather dazed. Luke suppressed a groan. He couldn’t leave without making sure she was all right.

  “Hello, Sarah.” He pulled his wagon to a stop and stared down at her, wondering how one small woman had managed to disrupt his life so thoroughly. “How did it go?”

  She blinked. For a moment, there was a hint of quiet desperation in her eyes, and his heart plummeted. She hadn’t gotten the job. Damn. What was he going to do with her now?

  “Luke,” she said with false brightness. “I’m sorry. I guess I was lost in thought.”

  He frowned. “Is everything all right? Did you get the job? Do you have a place to stay?”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  She was lying. It was evident in the rigid set of her shoulders and the rapid blink of her eyes. She was struggling to hold back tears and barely succeeding.

  “Sarah...” He hesitated. How could he help her if she refused to admit she needed help? It would be so much easier to take her at her word and walk away.

  “Goodbye, Luke.” She lifted her chin bravely, taking the matter out of his hands.

  He stared at her for one long minute, telling himself again that she was none of his concern. “Goodbye, Sarah.” Then he clicked his tongue and headed the team back up the mountain.

  Sarah bit her tongue against the urge to call Luke back and throw herself on his mercy. Everything had gone wrong, and she couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to tell him she was all right.

  She opened her reticule with shaking fingers. A few coins rattled around in the bottom, all that stood between her and complete destitution.

  Stupid, stubborn pride. After the cost of a night in a hotel and a meal or two, she’d have nothing. What in God’s name would she do then?

  LATER THAT NIGHT, LUKE stared at the blank canvas in front of him, his frustration building to a fever pitch. He took a deep swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and then made two angry black slashes across the mocking expanse of white.

  It was no use. He’d been sitting here for hours in his makeshift studio, trying to tap into the creative energy that had once been so much a part of him. But it was gone, lost with the rest of his hopes and dreams.

  There had been a time when painting had been as easy and natural as breathing. His father had sent him to a military boarding school to purge him of the affliction, but it hadn’t worked.

  No cruel, biting comment of his father’s had ever managed to dissuade him from his goal of being an artist. The war had been yet another excuse to polish his craft. He’d sketched the horror and the occasional beauty, and dreamed of returning home to his fiancée, Christine.

  When he’d returned, sick in body and spirit, minus a limb, he’d thought Christine’s gentle touch would heal him. But she’d fainted upon seeing his damaged body and had sent his ring back by messenger the next day, along with a trite little note of apology.

  That was when he’d lost his joy in creating. Hell, that was when he’d lost his joy in living.

  He would have put his service revolver to his temple and pulled the trigger long ago, if his brother Matt hadn’t stepped in, coaxing him to leave his ravaged home in Virginia and join him in the Colorado Territory. The two of them had struck it rich with silver, and Luke had bought this ranch with his half.

  He had hoped he’d be able to find some peace and inspiration in the natural beauty of the mountains, but it hadn’t happened. In the two long years he’d lived here, he hadn’t so much as sketched a leaf.

  Who would have thought his inspiration would come in the form of a lovely, green-eyed girl? The urge to paint Sarah had come upon him with frightening intensity.

  It was strange and disconcerting to feel so strongly about something after so many years of apathy, but he’d known enough to grab hold of the emotion with both hands. Painting Sarah might lead to other things, and he desperately needed to find a reason to drag himself out of bed every morning.

  He cursed and struck out, sending the easel toppling to the floor. Who was he trying to fool? The artistic ability he’d once taken for granted had vanished.
>
  Sinking into a nearby chair, Luke took another long swallow of whiskey and closed his eyes, searching for calm. It didn’t work. All he saw when he closed his eyes was Sarah.

  SARAH STARED AT HER reflection in horrified fascination. The flame-red dress revealed the tops of her breasts almost to her nipples. She was afraid to move lest they pop out of the plunging neckline, leaving her completely exposed.

  Dear God. Every man who saw her dressed this way would think she was a prostitute. Jack Clark, the man who’d hired her, had promised the job only entailed serving food and drinks to the customers in the saloon. She hoped he kept his word.

  “Damn,” she whispered, trying out one of Luke’s swear words. She turned away from the smudged mirror and sank to the edge of the narrow bed. Her skirts settled around her in a swish of scarlet satin. For some reason, even that soft sound seemed vulgar. She’d dreamed of a new dress for years, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

  Her gaze was drawn to the rusty lock on the scarred wooden door. It was all that stood between her and the attentions of the drunken men who roamed the upper floor of the building. The other girls, who slept in the rooms on either side of the small chamber Mr. Clark had given her, did a lot more than serve drinks.

  How long would Jack Clark give her to get used to the idea before he started expecting her to do the same? She buried her face in her hands, praying for the strength to get through this. She couldn’t bear the thought of some stranger putting his hands on her body, gagging her with his stench as he thrust painfully between her thighs...

  Sarah brushed away an angry tear and squared her shoulders. Someday she would find a man who was good and kind, who would love her no matter what. Her first marriage had been like that. Though her sweet William hadn’t been with her long, he’d treated her with the utmost love and tenderness, and she was determined not to settle for anything less.