Capital Bride (3 page)

Before they left for the boarding house she’d gotten out her grandmother’s wedding ring. She’d never worn it before because everyone knew she wasn’t married. Now though, they didn’t know and it would stop a lot of questions she’d rather not answer. The plain gold band fit perfectly on her finger. She felt her grandmother’s strength with it on, that she could face anything. When she married Mr. Atwood she would wear his ring on her left hand and her grandmothers on her right.
 

Sarah and MaryAnn arrived in Denver on May 15
^th
at half past four in the afternoon. They’d spent seven generally uncomfortable days on several different railroads to get there. MaryAnn had been a blessing, making friends with other people on the train along the way. Even so, Sarah didn’t care if she never saw another train again. She was tired and cranky, definitely not a good traveler, unlike her daughter, who seemed more excited with each new landscape they crossed.
 

Sarah’d had enough prairie, corn fields and cattle by the second day out of Chicago. Denver sat at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Magnificent in their grandeur and a blessing to Sarah because it meant their trip was at an end. She was to meet Mr. Atwood here at the station.
 

The porters unloaded her trunks and she had MaryAnn stand beside them, while she panicked. One of the trunks was missing. Until she unpacked them she wouldn’t know which one.

“What do you mean one of my trunks is missing? How can you mislay a steamer trunk?”

“I’m sorry Ma’am. We’ll find it and send it to you when we do.” The poor conductor was almost as upset as Sarah.
 

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Very well. Here is the address of where I’ll be. Please send the trunk there as soon as possible.”

He accepted her ticket and handed her a receipt back. “Yes, Ma’am. Again please accept my apologies.”

She nodded and walked back to where MaryAnn stood.

It was May, but the chill air gave Sarah shivers. She pulled MaryAnn closer to keep her warm. MaryAnn taking a chill was that last thing that Sarah needed. The trunks blocked part of the wind that whistled by the open platform, but none of the cold.

In a short while, a large man pulled up driving a long wagon with side boards. He had dark coffee brown hair that brushed the collar of his black wool coat and was graying at the temples. With his vivid green eyes he was one of the handsomest men she’d encountered in some time. Why would this man need a mail order bride?

Next to him was a little girl with hair as pale as MaryAnn’s was dark. She had the same green eyes as her father. The black coat she was growing out of revealed the hem to her light blue dress peeking out the bottom. This had to be Mr. Atwood and Katy.
 

He jumped down and then held his arms up to the child. The girl fell into them and wrapped her arms around his neck. There she buried her face, clearly not wanting to meet her new stepmother and sister.

He carried her up the stairs of the platform stopping in front of Sarah. Now that he was closer she saw that his green eyes were rimmed with dark lashes and stood in sharp contrast to his dark hair. Sun, wind and laughter had left lines at his mouth and eyes, giving him character. His face was very pleasing with a sexy shadow of stubble on his strong jaw.

“Mrs. Johnson?” His smooth baritone washed over her leaving her with a little tingle of awareness. One she hadn’t felt in years. Not since before Lee died.

Sarah nodded. “Yes. Mr. Atwood?”

“Yes. This is Katy,” he smiled down at the girl in his arms.

“Hello, Katy. I’m Sarah and this is my daughter MaryAnn,” Sarah said. She placed her arm around MaryAnn’s shoulders pulling her into her side.

“Hello,” said MaryAnn.

Katy turned and looked at MaryAnn, then buried her face in her father’s neck once again.

“Katy doesn’t speak.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” said Sarah.

“Don’t be. It’s not that she can’t talk, she just doesn’t. I’ll explain later. I’ve made arrangements to stay at the Melvin Hotel for tonight. It’s one of the finest in town. Then if you’re still willing, we’ll get married by the Justice of the Peace here in Denver tomorrow and head back to Golden City right after.”

“I believe that will be splendid.” Her heart raced a bit and she found she was nervous and excited at the prospect of becoming this man’s wife. “As you can see we came to stay,” she waved at the three trunks. “I’m glad you brought a big wagon, although we are missing one trunk. The railroad seems to have lost it during one of the train changes we went through to get here.”

“I’m sure they’ll find it. I just hope it wasn’t something you’ll need right away. Did you give them our address?”

“Yes, I did.” Sarah’s stomach took that moment to decide to grumble with hunger. She placed delicate hands over her fine flat stomach drawing attention right to where she’d rather not have, knowing she was flaming red with embarrassment, “Oh, excuse me.”

“Good. By the way the wagon is called a buckboard. I wasn’t sure how much baggage you’d have. Let me get those loaded up and then,” he smiled hearing her stomach grumble, “we’ll go get some supper.”

An hour later they were seated in the hotel dining room. Sarah ordered roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy for herself and MaryAnn. Mr. Atwood got a steak, rare, with fried potatoes on the side and fried chicken with mashed potatoes for Katy. All of the food looked wonderful. Sarah realized just how hungry she was for a real meal.

MaryAnn enlivened the conversation and Sarah was grateful for her ability to put adults at ease. “What kind of ranch do you have Mr. Atwood? Do you have horses? Can you teach me to ride? We used to see riders at the park in New York.”

He put down his fork and knife, wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and gave his full attention to MaryAnn. Then he smiled and it transformed his face, making him seem friendlier, less stern.

“Well now, Miss MaryAnn, I raise cattle, but we do have horses that would be gentle enough for you and your mother.” He glanced over at Sarah, his green eyes warm and friendly. She shook her head no. “Or not. You don’t have to learn to ride.”

Sarah felt herself flush under his gaze. “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Atwood. Why would you need a mail order bride? This town looks plenty big enough for you to have found a girl to marry.”

“That’s just the point. I don’t want a girl. I want a woman. One who might be able to help Katy. And to be completely honest, I don’t have the time or inclination to court a woman”

Katy’s eyes narrowed and her murderous gaze went to her father. Clearly she didn’t like being the topic of conversation.

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. Mrs. Selby thought Katy and MaryAnn would do well together.”

Sarah nodded. “I hope so.”

“This is delicious.” The flavor burst on her tongue and made her mouth water. “I’d love to ask the chef for the recipe. We haven’t had a real meal since we left New York.”

“What did you do for food?” Concern rode his features.

“At some of the stations there were housewives selling boxed lunches and I brought apples, cheese and bread with us in my valise. We had a seven day picnic.”

“I’m sorry the trip was so long.” There was a modicum of guilt that showed in his eyes.

“Don’t be.” Sarah felt herself blush again. “MaryAnn quite enjoyed herself. She’s a much better traveler than I am.”

MaryAnn echoed the sentiment. “Mama got tired of the scenery not changing. Not me. I just kept looking for new things. Ant they were everywhere. Saw lots of animals. A man on the train told me the huge things were antelope and they were good eatin’.”

Mr. Atwood laughed again. The deep baritone sound reached deep into Sarah. Her body reacted in a way she hadn’t felt in years. People’s heads turned and the women’s eyes lingered on his very appealing face. “Well, your friend’s right about that. I used to hunt them. That was before we got the cattle operation going and antelope, deer or elk were what we ate.”

As supper ended and she’d finished a wonderful piece of apple pie, Sarah tried to stifle a yawn. Seven days sitting up on a train was definitely beginning to wear on her. “Oh, pardon me. I’m afraid we need to retire for the evening. It has been a long trip and I think it’s catching up to me.”

Mr. Atwood rose from the table as Sarah stood. “Completely understandable. Shall we meet here in the morning at say,” he pulled a pocket watch from his pants pocket, “six am?”

“Oh. So early? What time do you have set for the marriage ceremony?”

“Nine.”

“Oh my, well what if we make it seven then? In the spirit of compromise, of course. We do want enough time to have breakfast beforehand.”

“That’s agreeable.” He nodded his head and a lock of hair fell forward. It was all Sarah could do not to reach over and gently put it back in place. She itched to run her fingers through his thick, brown locks.

Sarah noticed that both girls were almost silent during the meal. It might be normal for Katy but it most certainly was not for MaryAnn.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this evening, sweetheart,” she said to her daughter.

MaryAnn looked over at Katy. “Maybe she don’t have nothin’ to say. Maybe that’s why she don’t talk.”

Katy looked up at her father for help.

He nodded to her and then said, “Katy doesn’t talk because she witnessed her mother’s death. I’ll explain later.”

“John, may I call you John?”

He nodded his head. Tension weighed on his shoulders. The change in his countenance told her he felt guilt about his wife’s death and perhaps Katy’s muteness.

“You and Katy need to know, I’m not trying to replace your wife and her mother. We want to find our own place in this family not usurp your wife’s.”

“Dorothy. Her name was Dorothy.” He said it softly, almost reverently.

“I’m not trying to take Dorothy’s place.” If she hadn’t been across the table from him she’d have taken his hand in hers. As it was, she hoped her face conveyed her sorrow at his loss. It was all she could do for now.

“I understand that and so will Katy if she doesn’t now.” He looked down at his daughter, squeezed her hand and got a watery smile in return. “We’ll all be fine, you’ll see.”

She took MaryAnn’s hand and they walked to their room on the second floor. John and Katy were next door so they walked up together.

“MaryAnn, you go into the room. I’d like to talk to Mr. Atwood.”

He nodded at Katy, “You too. I’ll be right there.”

“You wished to discuss something, Sarah?”

“You were going to tell me why Katy doesn’t speak.”

He nodded, closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “She witnessed her mother’s murder during a bank robbery. Katy was the only survivor and she hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Sarah put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. When did your wife…die?”

“It’s alright. You can say it. Murdered. She was murdered in cold blood two years ago.” His eyes clouded over and his voice softened. “She was seven months pregnant.”

“How horrible for Katy to witness.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “The doctors say she’ll talk when she’s ready. The sheriff wants her to talk now. She’s the only witness and they still haven’t caught the people who did it.”

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll do my best to help her.”

“I know you will. Goodnight, Sarah.”

“Well, goodnight then.” She put her hand out for a shake.

He took her hand in both of his. “Goodnight, Sarah.” His big hands enveloped hers with heat and strength, a rare sense of comfort. His rough calloused hand was so different from her much smaller, soft one. Yet it felt wonderful. She wondered what those rough hands would feel like against the smooth curves of her body.

Sarah looked up to see his green eyes piercing her with what could be called passion or like herself, with loneliness. She retrieved her hand and bowed her head. “Goodnight John.”

She went into her room where MaryAnn waited sitting on the bed.

“Mama, why are you red in the face?”

“I’m just a little flushed. I got hot in the dining room that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. I thought maybe Mr. Atwood done somethin’ to you when he shook your hand before and maybe he did it again. That’s when you got red.”

Sarah felt herself flush again at the memory.

“You must be hot again, huh?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m hot again.” She waved her hand in front of her face knowing it wouldn’t do any good. It wasn’t that kind of heat.

* * *

They arrived at the dining room in the morning at seven sharp. John and Katy were already seated. John had a cup of coffee and Katy a glass of milk.

He stood as they approached. He was dressed in a black suit with crisp white shirt and string tie. He held a black hat that looked new.

“Good morning, Sarah and Miss MaryAnn. You both look lovely today.”

“Good morning John,” she looked over at Katy. “And you too Katy.”

MaryAnn went and sat next to Katy then turned her attention to John. “Good morning, Mr. Atwood. You’re going to be my father now and Katy will be my sister. Isn’t that right, Katy?”