Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4) (2 page)

“Don’t you like the pie?” John’s mother touched
his elbow and brought his attention back to the table.

“Of course I do, Mother. I was just trying to make
it last, that’s all.”

It was the truth. After the table was cleared and
the dishes were washed, the evening routine would take them to the small parlor
where he and his father would sit in silence and avoid each other’s gaze while
his mother chatted away, reminiscing about the days when her men were able to
speak to each other without arguing. After ten such evenings, she had begun to repeat
herself, but luckily, he wouldn’t have to sit through it again—at least not
that night. And in two more days, his business in Sage River would be concluded
and he’d be on the eastbound train, able to leave awkward silences behind.

“I received another invitation from Diamond
Springs this afternoon,” he said carefully. “It seems that tonight they will be
short a bridegroom, like last week, and they need me to step in again.”

To his left, his father relaxed. Apparently, the
evenings were beginning to wear on him as well.

“Probably some weak-kneed farmer from the south,”
the man said, “afraid of a little Wyoming snow.”

John didn’t have to look to his right to know his
mother was pleased her husband had spoken at last. “No doubt.” He put his
napkin on the table. “Dinner was wonderful. But I’m afraid I really should get
moving.”

It was a lie. The dance wouldn’t begin for more
than an hour, but he was desperate to get out of the house—a house he
remembered being so much larger when he was young. Now, it seemed as if four
people, including the housekeeper, made the place bulge like a barrel about to
burst.

His mother nodded and turned aside to wipe her
eyes on her apron, pleased enough with her husband that she didn’t complain
about John going out.

He pushed back his chair and stood, then dropped a
kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Mother.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

He headed out of the dining room but paused in the
doorway. “Goodnight, Pa,” he said, without looking back.

“Goodnight…son.”

He headed out into the snow with a smile on his
face.

~ ~ ~

For an hour, Mary sat in front of the mirror and
watched Alexandra pull and fuss with her dark hair. The transformation happened
so slowly she was caught by surprise when she eventually stared at two
Alexandras in the mirror. The only thing different was that one of them bore
her own face.

She instantly relaxed. Even if Mrs. Carnegie were
in the room, she would have a hard time telling between the two—except for the
bosom of course.

But Alexandra was not finished.

A small pink hat completed the costume. It had a
delightful drape of pale pink lace that fell over the right half of Mary’s
face. She could sit next to Fontaine in a carriage and not be immediately
recognized.

The female gunslinger was the worry. Of course
she’d never harm Mary, but no one trifled with Fontaine. When Mrs. Carnegie was
in
town, Fontaine made certain the woman's orders were followed to the
letter. When Mrs. Carnegie was
out
of town, Fontaine was as prickly as a
porcupine, always nervous that something would go wrong while she was in charge
of the ranch. But hopefully, those worries of hers would keep her from looking
too closely at faces.

Mary moved to stand in front of the long mirror
and had to look twice to know for certain it wasn't Alexandra Campbell standing
there with a freshly reduced bosom.

“Alexandra.”

Mary turned to see who had entered the room, but
found only Alexandra sitting on the bed behind her.

“That’s you, my dear. You’re going to have to
answer to my name for the rest of the evening. I promise to stay tucked in this
room until you return. But you must make an effort to be convincing.”

Mary took the woman’s hand in both of hers and
gave them a squeeze. “I promise, Fairy Godmother.”

They laughed for a bit, and then Mary took a seat
in the chair beside the door to wait for the clock to strike the half hour. All
around them, Stoddard house grew eerily quiet, like snow falling in the
woods—there were living, breathing things out there, but none of them moved
about.

“Look!” Alexandra moved to the side of the window
and Mary joined her there, grateful for anything that might distract her from
the twisting of her own stomach. “It is snowing.”

Mary smiled at the notion that the sound of snow
falling had put the thought in her head. She listened closely, trying to hear
it again, then laughed when she realized how impossible it was. She was content
to stand still and watch the white flakes grow fatter until a hulking carriage
rolled into view. Then another.

Alexandra sighed. “I’m pleased to see Fontaine
hasn’t canceled the dance on account of the storm, after all that work on your
hair.”

Mary shook her coiffed head carefully. “I’m
certain the storm wouldn’t dare cross the Mighty Fontaine. She’ll give the
clouds one sour look and they’ll suck up the snowflakes and flee. We’ll have
dry roads if she ordains it.”

The wide brim of Fontaine’s hat rose in their
direction and the pair of them gasped and stepped away from the glass like
naughty children. When they giggled, they did so quietly.

Alexandra helped Mary don her fur-lined cloak of
Scottish wool and carefully lifted the hood over the little hat. “Be wary,” she
said. “Look straight ahead. If you move your head to either side, the cap will
twist your hair loose.

Mary nodded once.

“And don’t nod, for heaven’s sake.”

“All right.”

“And don’t speak when you’re near Fontaine. Once
you’re inside the town hall, you may do as you please.”

“All right,” she whispered.

“Load up!” Fontaine’s bellow boomed from the
hallway. The woman wouldn’t have dared summon them in such a manner had Mrs.
Carnegie been about. But everyone was willing to forgive her, knowing as they
did how important it was to Fontaine that things run smoothly. It nearly made
Mary feel guilty for the ruse.

Alexandra gave her a scowl. “I know what you’re
thinking, Mary, and you can cease such thoughts this instant. This has nothing
to do with you wanting to dance. You’re doing me a grave favor, and that’s the
truth of it. Don’t you suffer a moment’s guilt for taking my place. I’m certain
Fontaine herself would have agreed, had we explained things to her.”

Mary was just as certain Alexandra was wrong. With
the gunslinger as nervous as a cat, she likely would have locked Mary in a
closet and horsewhipped Alexandra all the way to town if she’d had been let in
on the plan.

But it was too late now. There was no going back,
not after the Scotswoman had spent so much time on her hair. If Mary tried to
renege, no doubt it would be herself being horsewhipped all the way to Sage
River, in the snow, and Alexandra wielding the whip.

No choice now. No sense torturing myself. May
as well enjoy it.

Noting the look on Mary’s face, Alexandra nodded
with a smile. “That’s better. Now,
Alexandra
, you get out there in that
carriage and keep your back to Fontaine as much as possible.” She moved to the
wall behind the door and gave Mary a wink. “Don’t forget to be home before
midnight, my dear, or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

Mary didn’t stop to point out that it was the
carriage that was supposed to turn back into a pumpkin, not Cinderella.

No one spoke, no one mentioned the weather as they
paraded from the shelter of the gabled porch of Stoddard House to the large,
enclosed coaches. Boards had been placed over the wet ground to protect fancy
shoes. Braziers loaded with hot coals had been suspended beneath the coach
boxes to warm the floors. Large buffalo furs were spread across their laps
after three brides filled each seat—there was barely enough room left for air
to breathe. But no one would freeze if there was trouble on the road. And
either team of six would be able to pull the vehicles out of muddy ruts if
necessary.

A little snow storm wasn’t going to keep Fontaine
from fulfilling her duties.

Mary rode in the second carriage where Minnie, the
driver, and Elsa sat up top. While the box bounced and squeaked down the road,
Alice and two other brides prattled on about the Christmas traditions observed
in their hometowns. Mary, Milly Adair, and Hortense chose to ride in silence.
It finally dawned on Mary that all the brides were as nervous as she was, even
though none of
them
were breaking any rules. The chatty ones only proved
chattier as time wore on and they got closer to town. However, when the
carriage made the right turn that would take them into Sage River, all speaking
ceased. Alice didn’t even bother finishing her sentence.

A handful of people on both sides of the streets
paused to wave as they passed. It seemed to remove the strange pall that had
settled over them.

Mary laughed, relieved. “I’m not on my way to a
funeral, so I suppose I should stop activing as if I am.”

“Not unless you’re caught,” Hortense said lightly.

“It was our choice too.” Alice started rolling the
buffalo blanket off her lap. “If Fontaine catches you,
Alexandra
, we’ll
explain to both her and Mrs. Carnegie that we stand by you.”

Mary smiled. “I’m sure you would. But it’s more
likely you’ll be married and gone from Diamond Springs before Mrs. Carnegie
returns.”

“No reason to fret.” Milly Adair leaned across
Hortense to pat Mary’s knee. “You won’t be caught. Fontaine is far too busy
protecting us
to actually
watch
us. And last week she didn’t come
inside for so much as a drink of punch.”

The carriage finally rolled to a stop and if
anything else was said, Mary couldn’t have heard it for the pounding in her
ears.

Unfortunately, Fontaine was the one who opened the
door.

Mary faced forward and prayed the pink lace over
the side of her face would keep Fontaine from recognizing her. Alice suddenly
stood and blew out the flame of the small lantern above Mary’s head. Fontaine
blinked into the shadows and her searching gaze stopped on Milly.

“Miss Adair, we’ve had to call on Pretty-face
again to keep the numbers even. Since you were here last week, I’ll leave it to
you to explain to the others before you all go inside.

Milly put a hand out to stop Fontaine from walking
away. “Pretty-face?”

Fontaine snorted. “John Hermann. The pretty one
from last week.”

“I see.” Milly sounded both pleased and excited by
the news. Fontaine rolled her eyes and disappeared.

Hortense let loose a delighted squeal. “I’d call
that
providential.”

Milly nodded, then both of them turned toward
Mary.

“What is it?” Her heart had been racing long
before Fontaine opened the carriage door, and she had been so nervous she
hadn’t been able to understand the conversation. She was simply delighted Mrs.
Carnegie’s watchdog hadn’t felt the need to speak to anyone but Milly. “What is
it about this Mr. Hermann?”

“He’s not frightening. Like Fontaine said, he’s
quite handsome. However…” Hortense bit her lip for only a second or two. “Mr.
Hermann is
not
interested in being anyone’s groom. One of Mrs.
Carnegie’s customers must have been delayed by the storm, and Mr. Hermann will
be filling in. The same happened last week. I thought Mr. Hermann would have
left town by now. Back to Boston, I believe.”

The other three ladies seemed disappointed to hear
that the “pretty face” wasn’t in the market for any of them.

“But you seem so pleased,” Mary pointed out.

“As you should be.” Milly gathered her skirts and
prepared to disembark. “Mr. Hermann won’t be wasting space on our dance cards,
so to speak, because he’ll be dancing every dance with you,
Alexandra!
”

“Oh?”

“And our potential husbands will be able to keep
their attention where it belongs. You see?” Hortense nodded again. “Providential.”

The rest of them seemed appeased and one by one,
they made their way out the door. It took a moment to find the courage to take
that first step, but after Mary found it, there was no stopping her. Surely,
with all the talk of Providence in the past few hours, it was destined to be a
pleasant evening.

She was grateful for Elsa’s supportive hand under
her elbow as she stepped to the ground. She turned her head away from Fontaine
and did her best to mimic the regal walk of Alexandra Campbell. Long, gliding
steps took her across the boards and into the large building that glowed warmly
from the inside. Elsa followed close on her heels and shut the doors behind
them.

Finally, the moment she’d been waiting for.

The assembly hall was as big as a barn, only it
lacked the usual shadows and heavy smells that filled outbuildings. The walls
were lined with candles behind glass and the polished wood of those walls shone
like wet river rock on a sunny day. In the near corner to her left, musicians
plucked their instruments and paid no mind to the mob of women pulling coats
off each other. Farther along the wall, a passel of men stood with their backs
to the women. They all appeared to be participating in the same conversation,
and they were loud enough to drown out the sounds of the musicians testing
their tools. After a few minutes passed, it was obvious the men hadn’t realized
the women had arrived.

The clang of a tin cup skittering across the floor
brought both music and mouths to a halt.

Men turned their heads toward the rear of the room
where Elsa stooped to pick up the cup she’d dropped. More than a few eyebrows
rose at the sight of a woman in chaps. And if her long braid of golden blond
didn’t convince them of her Swedish heritage, the lilt in her speech removed
all doubt.

“You know d’rules, yentlemen. If you say or do
anything inappropriate, I’m here to see dat you don’t leave this building
alive.” She smiled sweetly then. “Fine wid you? Good,” she said, without leaving
time to deliberate. “You can dance now.”

All eyes watched Elsa’s hands come to rest on the
handles of her guns. She frowned, then rolled her eyes and nodded toward the
women. It made Mary chuckle to see how relieved the men seemed at finding the
rest of the women were in skirts. For a dramatic second or two, the opposing
parties stared at one another. Then, in a rush, the men hurried forward to
apologize to the first female they could reach. As one, the gals took a nervous
step back.

The fellow closest to Mary offered a deep bow to
her and Alice.

“Forgive me, ladies, for missing your entrance.
Please allow me to apologize by asking you to dance.” He looked at Alice, then
at Mary. “Each in turn, of course.”

The man was only a few inches taller than Mary. He
had to look down at Alice.

“Alexandra’s dance card is promised to another,
sir.” Alice beamed up at him. “But I accept your apology and your invitation,
Mr...”

“Jarvis,” he said. “James Jarvis. I’m to be the
new headmaster at the Armherst School in Laramie, Wyoming next fall. And I’m
required to marry before I take up my post in April.” He inclined his head to
Mary, then scooped up Alice’s hand, and led her away.

All down the line, others were pairing up and
separating themselves. When a kind looking man offered Milly his elbow, Mary
worried there was no one left for her. But a glance at the far wall proved her
wrong. A lone man met her gaze, gave her a wink, then began weaving his way
toward her.

This has to be Pretty-face.

Of course, she was no judge of men. She’d only
come to town with Pa once or twice a year. And once she’d gotten older, he’d
claimed town was too dangerous a place for a soon-to-be woman. After being
cooped up on Snowy Range for a good year and a half more, her brother, Fritz,
told her about the Bride School. And even after Mary had joined the staff on
Mrs. Carnegie’s ranch, she hadn’t been to town more than half a dozen times.

No. She was no judge of men, or faces. However, if
she’d never laid eyes on another man in her life, she would still have known in
an instant that the fellow walking toward her was remarkably handsome. His rich
brown curls were tucked behind his ears which gave a clear view of
light-colored eyes that seemed to see inside her thoughts. A pleasant smile
caused dimples that repeated out from his mouth like ripples in a pond.

Hortense steered herself and her new companion
into Pretty-face’s path. Mary wondered if the man was just too handsome for the
other woman to resist, no matter if he was looking for a wife or not. But after
a short exchange, Pretty-face smiled in Mary’s direction again, nodded to
Hortense, then continued on his way.

Mary didn’t know what she should do with her hands
while she waited. In the end, she wove her fingers together and let her arms
hang in front of her while she felt the vibration of his steps coming nearer.

Finally, he stood before her and bowed. “Miss
Alexandra Campbell, I presume?” His voice was strangely low, like someone
speaking into a deep well, a sound starkly at odds with his lighter, carefree
bearing.

At the sound of someone else’s name on his lips,
Mary caught her breath, then forced it out again. “Yes.” She offered her hand.

He gave it a little squeeze but didn’t bother
kissing it as she’d noticed other men doing. She really had no business feeling
disappointed. After all, she was there only to dance and buy Alexandra a bit of
time, not to be kissed by strange men.

“John Hermann,” he said with a nod. “I’m happy to
hear I won’t be breaking your heart this evening.” He nodded in Hortense’s
direction. “Your friend tells me you’re having second thoughts about marrying
so young. So maybe you’re wise beyond your years.”

In her chest, she was gathering a bit of steam for
Hortense. It wasn’t her place to tell Mary’s would-be dance partner she was too
young to marry. Seventeen was not too young. And it should have been left up to
Mary to tell Pretty-face why he was safe to dance with her all evening. In
fact, he was looking a tad less handsome if he agreed with Hortense.

She decided to give him a chance to save her good
opinion. “Is that why you’re not looking for a wife? You think
you’re
too young to marry?”

He laughed. “No, though I have much to do before I
consider marriage. I would hate for a pretty young woman like yourself to give
up parties and dances for the sober life of a married woman. At least, not
until you want to.”

She was appeased. But she wondered why she’d been
so quick to take offense. Maybe her nerves were still tied in knots from
Fontaine sticking her nose in her carriage.

“You do look a bit younger than the others,” he
added, “so it wouldn’t come as any surprise if you’re, what, seventeen?”

Her mouth dropped open, ready and able to come to
her own defense, but the man had guessed her age dead on. She snapped her lips
shut and tried to think of some mature response to being called immature, but
just then, one of the musicians stepped up on a box and called for everyone’s
attention.

“A little stomping and clapping should get us all
warm, don’t you reckon?” The woman then announced a square dance. Mary had
already been told each Wednesday evening started with a square dance, though
the woman had made it seem like the idea had just occurred to her.

“Same as last week,” the man mumbled. “Well, since
it looks like you’re stuck with me, may as well make the most of it.” He
gestured for her to walk ahead of him as they lined up to make a square with
three other couples.

From habit and half a year of practicing, her body
fell into step. Her partner came and went, came and went, without any more
talking between them. The dance had nearly finished when Mary realized she
hadn’t been paying any attention to it at all. She’d been so intent on finding
some way to repay an insult to John Hermann that she’d missed that
all-important moment when the man had taken her into his arms and twirled her
around the room. Though strictly speaking it was more like he’d hooked his
elbow in hers and swung her around like a bucket. Allemandes, and dos-à-dos
weren’t
anything like the romantic images in her dreams, so she found herself setting
aside her expectations, vowing to enjoy herself no matter how the evening
unfolded.

There she was, dancing with the most handsome man
in the room, and she was as prickly as a pair. Ridiculous.

The dance ended and they stood facing each other,
applauding the musicians and catching their breath. The Christian thing to do,
Mary decided, would be to put all her effort in finding something pleasant
about the man. The easiest detail to appreciate was his face, of course. His
brows were interesting and peaked, like he might think a great deal more than
he spoke. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes despite the fact
that he was easily the youngest man dancing that night. And those eyes! Except
for a boy from her childhood, she’d never seen such bright blue eyes. It seemed
odd to find them on a fully grown man. Like cornflowers, they were so mightily
blue, and she found they were staring back at her with a strange intensity.

“What could you be thinking, Miss Campbell?”

Again, she was caught off guard by being addressed
as someone else.

“I was admiring the blue of your eyes, sir. My
father and brothers have brown eyes. All of them. I don’t remember ever seeing
a
man
with blue eyes before. Perhaps I thought a man’s eyes would grow
darker with age and wisdom.”

He laughed. “Touché, Miss Campbell. I believe
you’ve put me in my place. I called you young, and you imply I’m short stocked
on both age and wisdom.” She shook her head quickly, but he shooed away her
denial. “You can’t be earnest, can you? If you’d never seen a man with blue
eyes, you must have spent the better part of your life locked in your room. And
I thought dark hair and light eyes were common among Scots and Irish.”

Having no idea if he was correct, she simply
smiled. “I’m afraid I was kept close to home, sir.”

“You mean, until you came here.”

Carefully, she nodded.

“Your father must have a great deal of faith in
Mrs. Carnegie, then, if he’d allow you to come to the Wyoming Territory and wed
a stranger only because she approved of him.”

Mary thought it would be wisest to keep her story
closer to Alexandra’s and further from her own history. “I fear my father would
prefer I marry any honorable man over marrying a certain McDonald from Chester
County.”

The musicians started again. Pretty-face bowed,
let the subject drop, and opened his arms. He lightly put a hand to her back
before taking her right hand in his left. After a measure, the music lifted
him, and he, in turn, lifted her.

Finally! They were waltzing!

Her slippers barely touched the floor the steps
were so quick. Nothing at all like dancing with other women, practicing in the
classrooms with the tables and chairs pushed aside. His boots never came close
to her toes, and after swirling in a complete circle around the room, she
finally stopped worrying about being stepped on. Men, it seemed, were not
nearly so clumsy as women.

Or so she thought until she saw poor Alice grimace
and wince while James Jarvis stared in horror at the floor between them.

Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“I find myself doing it again,” John said, a
slight smile on his lips and confusion marring his brow.

Mary looked at their hands, their feet, and back
to his face. “Oh? What is it you’re doing?”

“I find myself wondering what you’re thinking. You
have a most interesting face, Miss Campbell. It tells me your mind is churning,
but won’t give me any clues. I knew a girl once, a long time ago… You
just…remind me of her. But you’re from Pennsylvania, is that right?”

“Yes,” she said. Nothing about the pretense was as
exciting as she thought it would be. And though she hoped to see a good many
places in her lifetime, claiming to be from Pennsylvania gave her no
satisfaction at all. “And you are from where, Mr. Hermann?”

“Please, call me John. First names for second
dances, don’t you think? Especially when Mrs. Carnegie isn’t here to make
formal introductions. I admit, however, every man here seems the honorable
sort. I’m beginning to believe the woman knows what she’s doing.”

Mary couldn’t imagine what happened from one
thought to another, but as her partner looked around the room, his demeanor
changed dramatically, growing more and more serious until he suddenly looked
every bit as unfathomable as his voice.

A shiver ran through her and left her unsettled.
And in an attempt to put herself at ease, she sought to lift his mood with a
smile and a change of subject. “All right. John it is. Where are you from,
John?”

His sudden smile was unconvincing. “Boston. I
leave in two days. I’ve done all I can here.” He brought her to an abrupt stop,
timed perfectly with the music. His hands dropped away. “May I fetch you
something to drink, Miss Campbell?”

She was tempted to tell him to call her Alexandra,
but there was no use in it. If he couldn’t call her Mary…

“Yes. I’d like some punch, please.”

He nodded and walked away. She tried not to watch
him and turned to observe the others instead. It seemed as though everyone else
was parched as well, since all the men migrated to the back of the room and left
the ladies standing alone. Eventually, they, too, moved to huddle together. A
few of the women produced fans and started flapping them like the wings of
nervous chickens.

Milly came to Mary’s side and linked elbows. “How
are you getting on with Mr. Hermann?”

“Fine,” she said. “At least I’ve had my waltz.”
She wondered how the other young woman’s toes fared, but she wouldn’t ask.

“At least? Oh, don’t be silly,” Milly said. “Your
partner is not only the most handsome, but also the most interesting man in the
room. Both the gentlemen I’ve danced with thus far have talked about him. They
repeatedly glanced in your direction, but as it happens, they were interested
in your partner more than either you or me.”

“Oh?” Mary looked around the room to find nearly
every eye, men’s and women’s, darting in John’s direction. “And what do they
say about him?”

“They hope to do business with him. He’s some sort
of artist.” She waved a hand as if to say the subject didn’t interested her. “But
I worried he might have recognized you.”