Cowboy Seeks a Bride

“Miss Pam’s are the best,” Rand said. “Make that two.”

“Coming right up.” Miss Pam signaled Lucy, her waitress, before returning to her kitchen.

Lucy took their order for coffee. When she brought it, she gave Rand a surreptitious wink and then went about serving the other customers. Rand doubted the wink held any other meaning than teasing because Lucy and his best friend, Seamus, were courting.

As Marybeth removed her tan kid gloves, she glanced around the room and out the window, her shyness apparent. Rand gently captured one hand across the narrow table, hoping to likewise capture her gaze. Her long, slender fingers felt just right in his grasp, except for the tiny tremor in them. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re finally here.” Not the smartest thing to say, but all he could think of.

She looked startled. Frightened almost. The long trip from Boston must have worn her down. “Where can I find a place to stay?” The way her gaze darted around the room, she reminded him of a rabbit trying to escape a dog pack.

Hadn’t she heard his remark about lodging? Did she see something in him to cause her concern? Rand swallowed hard. If he didn’t have such faith in his parents’ choice, he would think this was all a mistake. Instead of being happy or even interested in being in his company, Marybeth almost seemed afraid.

Then it struck him. She knew. Someone, probably Maisie, had told her the one thing Dad had insisted was Rand’s responsibility to tell her. Now she was frightened of him, and he had no idea how to go about soothing away her fears and assuring her of his constant efforts to live for the Lord.

* * *

There it was, the tiny hardening in Rand’s expression that signaled the beginning of his anger. Oh, he’d find a way to cover it until they were alone. Then she’d pay. Just as Mam never knew exactly what had displeased Da, Marybeth had no idea what she’d done to anger Rand. Now his perfectly formed face was lined with a winsome sort of sadness, just like Da when he sobered up and felt ashamed for his brutality.

Rand cleared his throat. “We planned to have you stay with my brother and his wife, but Susanna’s expecting her second— Uh-oh, sorry. Maybe where you come from, folks don’t talk about such things.”

Marybeth hid her surprise at his comment. Indeed, such matters were never discussed at Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy. However, in the lower class neighborhood where she’d grown up, people never held back when discussing the hows and whys of childbirth. Rand’s concern for her sensibilities spoke well of him. It was a quality more in keeping with the man his parents had recommended to her so highly.

“I certainly understand why Susanna doesn’t need company right now.” She offered a little shrug to indicate a lack of concern, just the opposite of what she felt. Being in another woman’s house could provide protection. “Perhaps a hotel?” She would have to take a job to pay for it, but she’d planned to do so anyway. Her purse was empty, and traveling to Wagon Wheel Gap to search for her brother, Jimmy, would require another season of earning the funds to do so.

“Another uh-oh.” He smiled and grimaced at the same time, a wickedly attractive expression. Oh, Lord, guard my heart against this man’s charms. “We don’t have a hotel. My father plans to bring in a hotelier from back East, maybe even England. He’s working on that and a lot of other things to build up the town. Of course that doesn’t help us right now.”

Before alarm could take hold of Marybeth, Lucy arrived with two bowls of steaming chicken and dumplings. Once again Rand took her hand. This time he bowed his head and lifted a short, sincere-sounding prayer of thanks for the food. Emotion churned through Marybeth’s chest like a roiling sea. Da had prayed, too. Magnificent prayers in his lilting Irish brogue, prayers God would surely hear for their beauty. Yet he never changed, never improved his ways. She set aside the memories but would never permit herself to forget them, lest she end up like Mam.

“Can I bring you anything else?” The waitress gave Rand a simpering smile at odds with her tomboyish swagger. She was flirting with him, but from his friendly, “No, thank you,” Marybeth could see he was oblivious to her attempts to get his attention. An odd sort of jealousy smote Marybeth. No, that was just silly. Not jealousy at all. Simply an awareness of the girl’s bad manners in flirting with a man when he was in the company of another woman.

They wordlessly began to eat and Marybeth’s appetite roared into command. If not for the two years spent at Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, paid for by the ladies of her Boston church, she would shovel the delicious food into her mouth just as she had as a child.

“About where you’re going to stay...” Lifting the shaker next to the salt, Rand added a healthy dash of pepper to his dinner. “Mrs. Foster is the local piano teacher and church organist, and she’s got an extra room. She’ll be mighty glad for the company because her husband died last year and she’s still at loose ends. She’s an older lady and a bit talkative, but kind as can be. I hope that meets with your approval.”

The doubt and apology in his voice, along with his sorrowful wince as he mentioned the husband’s death, gave Marybeth pause. He possessed all the outward trappings of a gentle, thoughtful man. But so had Da.

“It’s very kind of you to arrange that, Rand.” She offered a polite smile that hid her relief over not having to worry about lodging.

Confusion clouded his expression. “Did you think I wouldn’t find proper lodging for you?” His tone held a note of injury.

“W-well.” Her chest tightened into a familiar knot. Had she touched a nerve? Was he angry? “No, of course not. I mean, yes, of course you would.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Now that I think of it, when we were writing, I don’t believe we addressed the topic of where you would stay.” He gave his head a little shake. “An unfortunate oversight.”

“Yes, that’s it.” The knot in her chest eased. “Just an oversight.”

They’d almost finished their meal, so she’d best tackle the difficult subject hanging over them. That way, if he became angry, she could look for help. Perhaps Miss Pam. Or the plump older couple seated at a table in the corner. No, they were leaving. In fact, they were coming this way.

“Howdy, Rand.” The man clapped him on the shoulder. “Who’s this pretty newcomer?”

Rand introduced Marybeth to the Archers and said they lived south of town in the Bowen community.

“You’ve got yourself a fine catch, missy,” said the woman. “Lots of girls around here have tried to lasso this boy since the day he first started shaving.”

While the Archers laughed, Rand rolled his eyes in a charming way. “You folks have a nice day.”

They took their dismissal in good humor and left. Once again the situation gave Marybeth pause. They obviously didn’t fear Rand. Miss Pam and Lucy didn’t, either. When had Marybeth decided he was her father come back to life? Maybe she didn’t have to be afraid of him. Maybe she should dismiss her fears and give him a chance to prove himself.

“Are you ready to go?” Rand started to push back from the table.

“No.” Trying to gather her thoughts, Marybeth took another sip of coffee.

“Oh.” Rand settled back down. “You want dessert? Apple pie? Or Miss Pam’s special elderberry pie?”

His sudden eagerness to please made Marybeth want to laugh, but what she must tell him was too serious for her to indulge in any such levity.

“No, thank you.” She glanced out the window, where people walked to and fro on their daily errands. On the way here, she’d noticed many people giving Rand friendly waves. Like Miss Pam and Lucy, every single one appeared to admire him. Still, she must proceed with caution. “I have to tell you something.” She lifted her coffee cup for another bracing sip.

“I was afraid of that.” His face fell and his shoulders drooped with disappointment. “You won’t marry me because I’m too ugly. There was a reason I didn’t send a picture, you know.”

Marybeth almost spewed coffee all over him, barely catching the liquid before it escaped her lips. Now she could see the mischief in his eyes that bespoke an awareness of his good looks without being excessively prideful, a rare quality. Most handsome men of her acquaintance strutted about, clearly proud of their appearance.

Once she regained her composure, she shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that.”

“Ah.” The humor left his face but a gentle twinkle remained in his eyes. “Go on. You can tell me anything.”

She would take him at his word, at least for now. Borrowing from her Irish legacy of masterful storytelling, she wove the “sad but true tale” of her family, punctuating it with a few well-placed tears and carefully leaving out several details. Eight years before, when her brother was only fifteen, he’d been beaten up by neighborhood bullies. Da had called him a coward for not standing up to the thugs, so Jimmy had left home and never come back. He’d written only one letter a year or so later, posting it from Del Norte, Colorado, and saying he was headed to Wagon Wheel Gap to do some silver prospecting. Now that their parents had died, the mention of which brought genuine tears to her eyes, at least for Mam, she knew she had to search for her only living relative before she settled down.

At this point she batted her eyes, sending a few tears down her cheeks, and then dabbed at them with a handkerchief and gave Rand a look that pleaded for understanding.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad and brother not getting along.” He shook his head and stared off with a thoughtful look. “Describe your brother to me.”

Marybeth started. Could it be this simple? Was it possible that Rand knew him? “His name is Jimmy O’Brien.” She couldn’t keep the eagerness from her voice. “I haven’t seen him since I was twelve years old. He was just a couple of inches taller than I was, so he may be about five feet, five inches now, if he takes after our father. He has red hair and hazel eyes.” She searched her memory for other details, but none came to mind. She certainly would not mention Mam’s silver locket, which she’d given him to keep Da from pawning it to buy liquor. Marybeth laughed softly. “And, as if you haven’t already figured out, he’s Irish.”

Rand’s frown of concentration intensified. “Does he speak with a brogue?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We both worked hard to get rid of it so we could get better jobs.” She had worked especially hard to speak without the brogue, hoping to find employment as a servant in an upper-class home, something a rich rancher couldn’t possibly understand. “He did pretty well, and the ladies at my church were so impressed by my efforts that they sent me to Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, where I met Rosamond.” She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t sound proud, wondering how much further to go. “I learned deportment, but I also learned typing and accounting skills.” In her letters she’d mentioned the academy but not the training in office work.

“Typing.” He scratched his head. “I’ve heard about those typewriting machines but haven’t ever seen one. I did receive a letter written on one. Makes a real nice page, just like printing in a book.”

She beamed a smile at him, encouraged that he didn’t seem the least bit angry. “Yes. I’m hoping to find work, perhaps in a bank or for a lawyer.”

“Work?” Now he frowned again, but still without anger. “But I’m responsible for your care. I’ve made arrangements with Mrs. Foster on the condition you would agree to live there until our wedding.” His eyes narrowed. “Marybeth, please assure me that you didn’t take advantage of my parents’ kindness just so they would pay your train fare so you could find your brother.”

“N-no, not at all.” Yes. At least partly yes. “Please recall the part of our agreement stating that either of us has the right to cancel our wedding if we’re not compatible.”

“And in just forty-five minutes, you’ve decided we’re not compatible?” The edge in his voice sent a shiver through her middle. “Seems you’ve already made up your mind.” He raised his hand as if he wanted to hit something, and Marybeth prepared to duck. Instead he waved off the gesture and stared glumly out of the window.

To her surprise, instead of being angry he seemed wounded, even depressed, so much so that she felt sorry for him.

Could it be that he wasn’t like Da at all? Could she trust him to help her find Jimmy? Despite being a gambler and gunfighter, maybe he had a core of decency she could learn to trust. But how could she really know for certain?

* * *

Rand wished he hadn’t raised his hand that dismissive way, as he always did to show gunslingers that he wasn’t planning to fight them, for the gesture appeared to have scared Marybeth. He turned to stare out the window to watch the traffic in the street. She hadn’t even given him a chance. Maybe hadn’t even intended to try. So much for his parents’ and sister’s harebrained idea of finding him a proper Christian lady to marry. He should have just married one of those nice girls who lived down in Bowen. There sure were enough of them to choose from. But Dad had wanted to bring fresh blood into Esperanza; ladies with fine manners like Mother’s to help some of the wilder gals like Maisie improve their ways.

Thoughts of Mother always stopped him short. He raised a familiar silent prayer that the doctors at the Boston hospital would be able to find out what caused her breathing problems. Dad had been so anxious about her health that he’d left Esperanza, the community he’d spent the past thirteen years building, the town that looked to him for guidance for every important decision they made. Yet Dad had willingly made the trip back East for Mother’s sake. Rand longed for that same kind of marriage, where the most important thing was to take care of one another, no matter what the personal cost might be.

His folks had taken his sister, Rosamond, along to enroll her in the Boston finishing school Mother had attended as a young girl. There they’d met Marybeth, and Mother had decided she was the perfect young lady for Rand. Until today he hadn’t cared much about those fine manners Dad insisted the local girls needed to learn. But after meeting Marybeth, he couldn’t imagine marrying one of those cowgirls he’d grown up with. Still, he was beginning to wonder how his folks could have been so mistaken about Marybeth. Couldn’t they see she’d had another plan all along?

Rand had made a few plans of his own. He’d envisioned someone who could grow a kitchen garden and a family and give him a little intellectual companionship on cold Colorado evenings. If he’d just married one of the gals who always smiled so sweetly at him in church, he wouldn’t be sitting here feeling like a complete fool. But he also wouldn’t have a bride who could talk about something other than the price of cattle or how the weather affected the crops.

Probably intent on listening to their conversation, Lucy sidled up next to him and gave his shoulder a sisterly nudge with her elbow as she held out the coffeepot.

“You must be missing Seamus.” He held his cup while she poured.

Lucy shrugged. “If you see him, tell him I do miss him.” She sniffed. “Don’t know why he has to be the one up in the hills with all them cattle all summer long. I don’t have nothing to do on my days off.”

Rand gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’s the trail boss because he’s the best man for the job. You can be proud of him for that.”

“Humph. And what am I supposed to do while he’s out there?” Lucy poured coffee for Marybeth and then took Rand’s empty plate in her free hand. With a swish of her skirt that brushed fabric against his forearm, she headed back toward the kitchen.

Eyeing Lucy with a hint of disapproval, Marybeth put two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream in her cup, stirred and lifted the drink to her lips. Her graceful hands looked like white porcelain and her little fingers posed in refined arches as she held the cup. Beautiful, elegant hands, but not hands for a rancher’s wife. What had his folks been thinking? This young lady was entirely too genteel.

Or maybe as she’d traveled farther west, she’d realized what she’d gotten herself into. Too bad he couldn’t blame Maisie for this turn of events, but that wouldn’t be fair. Even if she spilled the whole story, with her upbringing as a rancher’s daughter, of course she’d be proud of his killing a horse thief.

Well, one thing was sure. With Marybeth making it clear they wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon, if at all, he could postpone telling her about the fatal gunfight. He had no doubt Maisie had blabbed the story, so when they did get around to talking about it, he would have to reassure Marybeth that he wasn’t proud of killing a man, no matter what other people thought. On the other hand, he was still responsible for her since she’d come all this way to meet him. Best get this all figured out.

“Now about that job you mentioned, how do you plan on getting it?” He couldn’t keep the rancor out of his voice.

She lifted her chin and gazed down her pretty little nose at him. “As I said, I plan to work for a lawyer or in the bank.” She blinked in a charming, innocent way. “You do have a bank, don’t you? I thought I saw one on our way here.”

“Yes, we have a bank. But everybody knows that’s a man’s job. Besides, what makes you think Mr. Means is going to hire you?” Rand felt justified being a little cross. Not only was Nolan Means young, wealthy and good-looking, he kept trying to finagle his way into community leadership, something the Northam family carefully controlled to keep out unsavory elements.

Marybeth’s hazel eyes flashed at his challenge. “I will have you know I am very good with accounts. Not only that, but with my typewriting ability, I will be a great asset. If Mr....Mr. Means, is it? If he doesn’t need an accountant or secretary, I am certain some businessman in this growing town will be happy to employ someone with my skills.”

Rand gazed at her, admiration mingled with annoyance. The girl had spirit, that was certain. But as he watched her, something else became evident in her bright hazel eyes—a look he’d seen in green gamblers who just realized they’d gotten themselves into a game with seasoned cardsharps. She had a secret, one that scared her. Why on earth did she think coming out West would solve her problems? But here she was, and despite her postponement—maybe even her cancellation—of the wedding, he had every intention of sticking to his plans to take care of her. A Christian man always kept his word, always saw to his responsibilities.

Bolstered with that thought, Rand scratched behind his ear and gave Marybeth one of his best “aw shucks” grins. “Well, Marybeth, I wish you all the best. And I will pray for your success.”

Her eyes widened and she seemed to struggle a moment before answering. “Why, thank you, Rand. How very kind.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been praying for you since last January when Mother first wrote to me about you.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her coffee cup. “Thank you.”

He frowned. She seemed confused by his mention of prayer. Yet Mother had assured him she was a Christian. A real one, not someone who just went through the motions in church. Maybe she’d fooled them all. That meant he had more than one responsibility for this little gal. He had to take care of her and get her saved. He would take her to church every Sunday and let her hear some of Reverend Thomas’s fine sermons. If he’d listened to those sermons when he should have, he’d never have killed a man, no matter how threatened he’d felt.

Another thing he could do for Marybeth was to write to the sheriff in Wagon Wheel Gap to see if he’d come across a man matching Jimmy O’Brien’s description. Maybe if Rand found her brother, she’d forget working and decide to settle down with him. On the other hand, he needed to find out what she was hiding before he could marry her. That was quite a quandary, one the Lord would have to sort out.

“If you’re done with your coffee, I’ll take you over to Mrs. Foster’s. She’ll put you up until—” He shook his head. No longer could he think until the wedding. “Until you get things worked out.”

He stood, pulled a half dollar out of his pocket and dropped it on the table to pay for their dinner, adding a nickel for Lucy’s tip. When Marybeth continued to stare at him with some sort of unreadable expression, he sighed as he snagged his hat off of the peg.

“I guess I should ask if that’s all right with you.”

She gave him a tentative smile and her eyes seemed to glisten. “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you. You’re very kind, considering...”

Rand ducked his head to put on his hat and to hide a grin. Her eyes held that secretive look again, but this time with even more uncertainty. Maybe he had a chance with this pretty little lady, after all. And maybe his older brother could offer some tips on how to win a gal determined not to like him.

Chapter Two

“Shall we go?” Rand held out his arm and Marybeth set a hand on it.

Once again she could feel his muscles rippling through his fine cotton shirt. How nice it would be to depend upon such a strong man. But Da had also been strong before his final drink-induced illness, and his excellent physique had housed a deceitful soul. In fact, Marybeth had met few men, sturdy or weak, who kept their word. Was Jimmy any different, or had he become like Da? She’d prayed for years he hadn’t fallen into such sinful ways, but she didn’t hold out too much hope. After all, the American West was known for its lawlessness. Maybe Jimmy had chosen that path.

Even if he had, she was determined to find him and make him hand over the silver locket. Mam had told her it contained the key to a treasure that would take care of Marybeth all her life. Although Jimmy probably didn’t know what lay hidden behind the tintype picture of their family, the locket still belonged to Marybeth. Of course she would share the fortune with him. Too bad Mam hadn’t claimed the treasure herself and used it to escape Da and his abuse. Knowing him, he would have found her and forced her to turn over the money so he could gamble it away or use it in one of his get-rich schemes that always failed. The man had never known how to tell the truth or make a wise decision, other than marrying a good woman like Mam.

“It’s not far, just six blocks.” Rand glanced down at her high-top shoes, already covered with dust from the unpaved street. “But we can get a buggy if it’s too far for you to walk.”

His thoughtful gesture threatened to weaken her, so Marybeth forced her defenses back in place. “The wind has died down and it’s a lovely day. Let’s walk.” She punctuated her cheerful tone with a bright smile. “Besides, Boston’s a very hilly city and I walked everywhere there. This flat town is no challenge.”

He chuckled—a pleasant, throaty sound. “If you’re used to hills, I’ll have to take you up in the mountains for a hike. That sure would challenge you.” His teasing tone was accompanied by quick grin before a frown darted over his tanned face. “Of course we’d take a suitable chaperone.” His hastily spoken addition showed once again his eagerness to please her.

Oh, how she longed to trust him. Yet how could she dare to when he hadn’t even told her about that deadly gunfight Maisie was so proud of? When Marybeth spoke of delaying their marriage, his hurt feelings and disappointment had been obvious. Shouldn’t he have bragged about the killing, assuming she’d regard him as a hero and change her mind? She’d been honest with him about her family, at least as close to honest as she’d dared to be, but he was hiding a very significant happening in his life.

“This is the street.”

Rand steered her down a row of attractive two-story houses, several of which rivaled some of Boston’s finer clapboard homes. One redbrick structure reminded her of Boston’s older Federal-style mansions. Numerous houses were in varying stages of completion, adding to the picture of the growing community about which Colonel and Mrs. Northam had told Marybeth. Young cottonwood and elm trees lined the street, and several fenced-in yards boasted a variety of shrubbery and colorful flowers in the last blooms of summer.