by Iris Kelly
“Clearly, our friends have a great deal to answer for. Though right now, I cannot say whether it was mischief or wisdom. But I know this—no one could love you more dearly than I do at this moment. This is no illusion. No lie. Do you feel the same way? Do you love me, Abigail?”
She nodded tearfully.
Sebastian continued, “I was a blind fool who had to be tricked into understanding his own heart. I hope you can take pity on my blindness and forgive me. Our friends may have accelerated our course, but you were my destiny from the first night we met.”
Abigail sank back down beside him and allowed herself to be pulled into his warm embrace.
“But can we really be fit for marriage? Was that decision made in clarity or in a fog of impulsiveness and misunderstanding? Have our natures really changed so completely? Your career. My independence.”
“Our marriage need not resemble a model that feels burdensome to us. It is for us to reshape the contours of this institution until it suits us and us alone. You shall remain an employee of The Cheyenne Chronicle, and your stipend shall become a real income, and the money shall be yours to keep, separate from mine. I know that will contribute to a great deal of peace of mind for a lady who is tired of depending on others.”
“That would be wonderful. Yet, I should like to contribute to family expenses. Perhaps half could go to the common good, and half put aside in my own name.”
“Kept in a bank with frequent and rigorous audits,” Sebastian added.
They both smiled.
“I never want you to feel as if you are being held back from turning the newspaper into something substantial and important. I know the hours can be late and irregular.”
“They can. I hate knowing how often I will have to leave you at home alone.”
“What makes you think I will remain at home? I shall go with you and assist in whatever way I can.”
“Truly? Because your assistance has been priceless. And you have already helped to elevate the paper to a level I had only dreamed of before. I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. Although . . .”
“What is it?”
“I suppose it may not be possible if . . . after there are children at home.”
Abigail sighed. “That is another thing I should have told you earlier. I just never thought about having children together. Our marriage was going to be fake and it didn’t seem to matter. But you should know now that I was once with child. But after four months, I got sick with consumption or some such nonsense. I suppose I was lucky to have lived, but I couldn’t feel lucky. The child died inside me. And after that, there were very few attempts to make another child. I can’t say with any certainty that I will be able to have one. I’m sorry. I should have thought to discuss this earlier. It’s a very important thing for most men.
“I do not need anyone beyond you. If it should only be the two of us for the remainder of our lives, I will be happier than I have any right to be. But . . . if there should be children, well, my father will be delighted, if he lives long enough. And I suspect that I will probably be delighted as well. We shall be fine, whatever comes.”
Abigail sank with relief into Sebastian’s strong arms. Being dependent on his heart and his loyalty did not feel oppressive to her in the slightest. It felt like she had finally found her home.
“And if children come, I am sure they will be quite demanding. But they will not end my assistance to the paper. I am sure we can find a few trustworthy friends to look after them from time to time.”
“Very sensible.”
“And there are a few more matters we must arrive at consensus on. I cannot cook.”
“I have heard that is a common failing in Boston ladies. At least, the ones who wind up in Cheyenne.”
“I am in earnest. And frankly, I take no interest in even attempting it.”
“And I take no interest in eating those attempts.”
Abigail drew back in mock offense. It felt good to be teased. Even better to be taken seriously.
“I have other talents to offer the world besides a good stew.”
“Then how fortunate we are that I can make a tolerable stew. And that Cheyenne has no end of good restaurants.”
The negotiations continued for another hour, with each party becoming ever more hopeful that the institution they had distrusted for so long was going to be the best thing that had ever happened to them.
“One last matter, I think, before we retire,” Abigail said. “Our friends . . .”
“They do deserve a little repayment for their efforts, don’t they?”
They plotted merrily. And then they lost all thoughts of negotiation and scheming for yet another glorious night of conjugal discoveries.
*****
It was a festive night of celebration. Lydia had volunteered the spacious Cooper ranch for the occasion. Everyone was happy to know that Zachary Scott had gotten his just desserts. Lydia shuddered to remember that their own eldest adopted daughter, Kathleen, had caught Zachary’s eye right before the Coopers had given her a home.
“Let’s toast a well-deserved incarceration. And the two fine people who put him there,” Giles Cooper said.
Everyone cheered.
“It was more Miss Norris’s doing than mine. The embezzlement story as well. She has been an invaluable asset to the Chronicle. I’m so pleased that she’s agreed to stay on with the paper, even after the eventual divorce.”
This was greeted with gasps of disbelief and disappointment.
“Divorce? Surely . . . surely . . . you have reconsidered that untenable plan,” Avery objected.
“But the plan is unfolding beautifully. Just as we had envisioned. We have only to wait upon my inheritance. My father’s will has already been finalized in my favor. You know what? I’ll bet we could even get divorced right now, and he would be none the wiser. And the will would stand. Miss Norris, perhaps we should give that some serious thought.”
“This is terrible,” Molly wailed. “We thought the two of you were going to come to your senses.”
“I think it has been a sensible plan from start to finish,” Abigail replied. “A mutually beneficial business transaction.”
“But . . . but . . . Abigail, I . . . I was certainly under the impression that you were reconsidering these terms,” Virginia reminded her hopefully.
“I may have lost focus for a moment. But my rationality has resumed its course. Nothing is to be gained by a delay.”
“Sebastian, surely you have had some second thoughts?” Lewis said. “Mixed feelings? Ambivalence?”
“Every consideration points in the same direction. A marriage of convenience and an amicable divorce.”
This announcement was greeted with gloomy silence.
“I can only think of one reason to veer from our eminently sensible plan.”
Sebastian leaned over and gave his blushing bride a passionate kiss.
“I cannot live without her. It is only one reason, but it seems to trounce all rational opposition. Divorce is out of the question. We are loath to reward our friends for their unpardonable dishonesty—but there you have it.”
Abigail and Sebastian were mobbed in a virtual stampede of hugs, handshakes, tears, and boisterous laughter, followed by an evening of exuberant dancing. Hours of dancing. The wedding reception, long delayed, was finally at hand.
EPILOGUE
Eight Months Later
At a deluxe suite in Helena, Montana’s grandest hotel, Sebastian Knight woke up to the ever welcome sight of his peacefully sleeping wife. A belly swollen six months with child did nothing to diminish her beauty—rather, it was a constant source of wonder to him. And neither of them tired of touching her belly and feeling the baby’s strong kick—a healthy set of legs that couldn’t wait to make their entrance into the world.
Of course, the other person anticipating the birth with great excitement was Sebastian’s father, Jeremiah. On discovering that his first grandchild was on the way, he cheerfully confe
ssed that he had somewhat exaggerated the severity of his terminal condition. In all likelihood, he probably had a few more good years in him, long enough to see a second grandchild! In any case, he was happy to turn over the bulk of Sebastian’s inheritance to him in advance. After all, he deserved it after that small deception.
Sebastian hardly knew how to react on hearing about yet another ruse aimed at Abigail and himself. It was good to know that his father was not actually at death’s door. And he was equally glad that someone had forced him to find this extraordinary woman. For that gift, his father would have to be forgiven.
Sebastian was able to write of all the good tidings to his brother, Philip, who was so stunned to hear that Sebastian had married a card proficient lady that he was prepared to believe that his own inclinations would no longer be so harshly judged. He promised to visit as soon as the baby was born, and Sebastian looked forward to the opportunity to heal some old wounds.
The folks back in Cheyenne had had a bit of difficulty understanding how Flamin’ Annie wound up married to the newspaperman. No matter how many times Abigail explained that she had never been the infamous cardsharp, there were many, particularly the saloon regulars, who just accepted her protests as part of her plan to remake her life in a more respectable direction. But anyone who had witnessed her savvy card play could have no doubts, but that she was the real Annie. If she felt like being Abigail Knight now, then good luck to her!
By the time pregnancy caused Abigail to curtail her time in the smoky saloon, she had successfully turned Molly, Virginia, and Beatrice into an enthusiastic group of card players, boisterously practicing while their children played together. Living so much further out, Lydia Cooper wasn’t able to join them as frequently, but she was a fast learner and an always welcome addition. She frequently hauled away a large pile of sweets for her sizeable brood back at the ranch.
Abigail also played a number of rousing games with Miss Mabel, Betsy, and Gretchen at the boardinghouse (with the Sheriff often volunteering to deal). Abigail felt a sense of responsibility for the girls and liked to check in with them frequently. They had each found work in town, at a restaurant and at the mercantile, respectively. Both eagerly offered their future services to look after the baby for the evening if Abigail should find herself tied up with any newspaper duties.
But for the present, Sebastian and Abigail were in the middle of their next enticing investigation. A very skillful con artist had been selling fake certificates for cattle stock. Their friend, Lewis Carlyle, had once been the target of such trickery. Posing as a wealthy and gullible couple from Chicago, the Knights intended to gather as much damning information as they could on this devious operation.
Abigail woke to find her husband’s eyes caressing her—a delightfully familiar sensation.
“Are you ready for your next great role, my dear?”
“I am Eleanor Humphries, thirty-four years of age, six months with child, raised in a stuffy upper-class home, and currently married to a brilliant and prosperous man. Very easy to remember, as we have stayed so close to the absolute truth. Oh, and we hope to be swindled out of a great deal of money today.”
“Indeed, we do. Thank goodness we share a perverse enjoyment of these extraordinary assignments.”
“What a stroke of luck that we found one another.”
“Every day, I am grateful for pushy fathers and meddling friends,” Sebastian said.
“Forever grateful.”
And with a heartfelt kiss to begin their day, Abigail and Sebastian were off to enjoy their next great adventure.
~THE END~
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AUTHOR BIO
Iris Kelly is a bit of a wanderer, and her homes have stretched from sea to shining sea - including equal amounts of time in Boston and New Mexico. She enjoys travel, movies, hiking, reading, the desert sky, and great love stories.
Iris has had every job under the sun, including a memorable stretch as a teacher. But being a writer is her favorite vocation - by a mile. Her affinity for Westerns runs back to reading every book in the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House series, and watching every episode of Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman.
She is fascinated by autobiographical accounts of women’s lives in the Old West; particularly the divide between popular myth and surprising realities.