Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4) (6 page)

How a sunny morning could be colder than the dead
of night, Mary didn’t know, but she wrapped herself tighter in her blankets and
hoped the shivering stopped before Millie thought to steal those blankets back.

“You didn't tell me Fontaine recognized you.” Her
friend’s voice cut through the quilt just before Mary was struck by the weight
of a heavy pillow. “Get up. She wants to speak with all of us across the hall.”

By the time she was clothed and decent, her teeth
had stopped chattering, but her legs were stiff and stubborn.

“Come on,” Millie whined. “There’s a big fire
across the hall!”

Mary stopped wrestling with her shoes, kicked them
out of her way, then made a run for it.

Dressed in their dancing clothes from the night
before, the brides huddled together in a larger bedchamber. Millie hurried to
join the others, but their expressions made Mary's bare feet drag to a stop.
Wide worried faces stared back at her. Eyes darted from her, to Fontaine, then
to the floor.

Still in her coat, Fontaine sat in an ornate
mahogany chair next to the roaring fire. Her hat hid her face, but no one would
have believed the woman was asleep. Fontaine never slept in the company of
others. No one would doubt a claim that Fontaine never slept at all. If her
eyes were closed and she breathed deeply, her head would turn at the first
noise, like a vigilant dog guarding a porch. Resting, maybe. But never asleep.

It was clear none of the others was willing to
break the silence.

“We're all here, I think,” Mary said. But even
though she'd hurt Fontaine's feelings the night before, she wasn't about to be
bullied today. Today was a big day in her life, no matter what, and nobody was
going to stop what needed to happen. “That is, if you meant for me to join you.
Did you only want to speak with the brides, Fontaine?”

Slowly the brim of the hat turned and rose. One
painfully red eye looked at her long and hard before she faced the entire room.
“We're snowed in. Good and snowed in. No one will be getting in or out of town
for a few days—at least no carriages. And I’m not going to have the horses pull
sleighs through four feet of snow when they don't have to.”

Mary waited for someone to ask the question
screaming in her head, but when no one did, she took it upon herself to say it.
“And the gentlemen? Are they snowed in too?”

Fontaine shrugged. “The menfolk can come and go as
they please.” After an audible and collective sigh of disappointment, she
continued. “Luckily for you, they want to stick around and woo women.”

The mood lightened immediately, though the boss in
the chair didn't seem to care.

“Wait just a minute.” Hortense's eyes widened with
horror. “You don't mean to say we have to wear the same clothes until the roads
clear!”

Fontaine snorted. “Of course not. You can trade
with each other all you like.”

The room erupted. A good half of the brides
started shopping and planning. The other half looked on in confused amusement.
Mary knew they thought like her—a woman only needed a good dress for the week
and a better dress for Sunday. What did it matter if a man saw her in the same
dress day after day?

She shook her head and exchanged a knowing smile
with Alice.

“What are you smiling about,
Alexandra
?”
Fontaine stood up and the room fell silent again.

Those worried looks were back. Mary realized the
others weren't so eager to stand beside her and confess they were party to her
taking Alexandra's place. Their futures might be at stake if Fontaine thought
to punish them in some way for what clearly appeared to be Mary's sin. And who
knew what might happen to the Scotswoman?

“It was all my idea,” Mary confessed to the room
at large. The already quiet brides fell quieter still. “Alexandra wasn't
feeling well and I begged her to let me take her place. It was this dress. It's
perfect for me. I wanted to wear it and I wanted to dance in it. I was tired of
dancing with women all the time.”

“Fine,” Fontaine said with a nod. “You wanted to
play the bride, so you can keep on playin’ the bride. There are
eleven
men waiting breakfast on you all. And they'll have
twelve
women to keep
them company for the next few days.”

Mary swallowed a large lump that had been building
in her throat. “
Eleven
men?”

Fontaine smiled a rather unflattering smile even
for a female gunslinger who didn't seem to care what she looked like most of
the time. “Yes,” she said. “You knew Mr. Hermann wasn't a customer. You
couldn't have been expecting an invitation to tea with
him,
could you?”
She watched Mary's face. “Besides, he left town this morning.”

Mary couldn’t stop her distress from showing. Her
chin might have been only an inch or two from the floor by the time her
disappointment was complete.

Why couldn’t the snow have kept him here too?

“Said he had a train to catch, so he set out a day
early.” Fontaine watched her closely for a few seconds, then moved behind her,
headed to the door. “The men all met in the saloon early this morning while you
all were lying in. Hermann lit out as soon as their business was done.”

As the woman was reaching for the doorknob, Mary's
voice returned. It held much less emotion than she expected.

“You should have let me go find him last night,”
she said.

Fontaine looked into her eyes. “Would it have made
any difference this morning? Other than ruining you, would it have made him
stay?”

Mary gasped. The women behind her were suddenly an
unwelcome collection of ears.

“Be careful, Fontaine,” she warned, “laying shame
where there is none.”

Fontaine snorted. “Yeah. And just remember it was
me who kept you from it.” She took a step back to face Mary head on. “I won’t
allow you to shame Mrs. Carnegie. So, for the rest of our stay in town, you
are
Alexandra Campbell, available for courtin’.
No one
is going to tell
those men they've been cheated out of a twelfth option. No one is going to do
anything that might shed Diamond Springs in a bad light, do you hear? After
Mrs. Carnegie comes back from Denver, you can complain all you like.” She
addressed the others. “But for now, everything by the rules. Weddings can take
place on Saturday. The roads should be clear enough by then. If yer smart, a
good number of you will be able to settle on one man and wheedle your way into
his heart with the extra time.”

“You can't force me to marry anyone,” Mary
whispered.

Fontaine smiled that nasty smile again. “Course not.
But I can make you hate that dress…”

Strange. The morning air gave a clear, stinging
warning to anyone who dared go outside that day. But there was something else—if
not the actual smell of sunshine, then the promise of it. John would bet the
farm the sun would appear by noon and he'd be shedding his coat before he ever
reached the train for Denver.

He'd already said good-byes to his parents, but he
figured hugging his mother one more time wouldn't hurt a thing.

He climbed the steps.

His mother's brow furrowed. “Did you forget
something?”

“Yes.” He gathered the small woman into his arms
and pulled her tight. “Just thought one more of these would help me stay warm
until the sun decides to show up.

He pulled back and she worried at the scarf around
his neck. “You promise me you won't freeze to death? Your horse is sound?”

“He's sound, Mother.” He and his father exchanged
a look of perfect understanding. A tear appeared on the old man's cheek, but he
didn't bother pushing it away.

“Next time, son.”

John nodded. “Next time.”

With a pair of snow shoes secured to the saddle
just in case, John set out through town. It was so much easier leaving when he
knew for certain he'd be coming back in a matter of months, not years. And when
he did return, all the rough memories that had piled up between himself and his
father will have melted with the snow. Nothing unpleasant would be waiting for
him.

With mothers, a simple embrace could make things
right again. But with men, it wasn't so easy. With men, it was all about
success. Prove your success, you prove your worth. Well, he'd proven it that
morning. And after handing his father nearly a dozen significant orders for
leather goods, along with the payment for those goods, he'd proven he wasn't
all hat and no cattle. And while his father had been in shock, he'd explained
how, after he'd put his tooling talents to work, he'd be collecting the same
amount again, on delivery. That his “fiddling” made a saddle worth twice the
price, and he had the wits to find people willing to pay for it.

One product. Double the money. Profit for father.
Profit for son.

And that was only from a group of men he'd met two
days before. One look at John's own saddle, and they'd clamored for a chance to
buy the same. Then they'd been like kids in a Boston candy store.  

“What else can you do? What else can you do?”

Jack Hermann had been impressed all right. But at
the risk of sounding boastful, John had concealed the fact that he'd already
done the same business half a dozen times over in the last year using Boston
tanners to fill the orders. Putting money in his old man's hand was all the
proof he needed to justify nearly every argument they'd ever had. No need to
rub salt in old wounds.

Besides, his father might not appreciate that John
had purchased from other tanners whether or not the two of them had been on
speaking terms.

His horse picked its way down the main street
without too much trouble. A few wagon tracks had packed the snow in a nice
straight line out of town. As he neared the hotel, he looked up at the windows
and imagined Miss Campbell on the other side. The mob of brides and would-be
grooms were probably in the middle of breakfast. If he stopped in, he might
have a word with the gal who had charmed him so thoroughly the night before.
Maybe he could gaze just once more into the face that so resembled his Mary’s.

But he didn’t have any good reason to seek her
out. After all, neither of them were players in Mrs. Carnegie's marriage game.
He did regret his clumsy goodbye the night before, but there had been others to
help across that icy river of a road and no time to worry about niceties.

Could check in on her without looking like a
complete fool? After all, she couldn’t have gotten lost along the boardwalk
between the road and the hotel with only the mercantile between them.

But still…

His horse stopped like he'd made up John's mind
for him. Or maybe the beast was able to read his thoughts.

“You have a nice safe trip, Mr. Hermann.” Fontaine
leaned a shoulder against one of two pillars that stood to either side of Mrs.
Kennedy's Hotel entrance. “And thanks again for your help.”

John tipped his hat and gave a nod to the odd
woman. She was dismissing him, clearly. Maybe she thought his appearance might
be distracting when the ranch's male clients were fervently trying to win a
bride. With a face like his, John had been dismissed before. But this time, he
felt like arguing his case.

“How is Miss Campbell this morning?”

Fontaine shook her head. “Wouldn't know.
Campbell's at the ranch.”

In spite of the danger in travelling, it made
sense. She wasn't interested in potential husbands, so she'd probably be glad
to go on home.

“I hope she didn't go out in that storm last
night,” he said.

“Of course not. Weather's been good this morning,
though.”

Although the conversation was pleasant enough,
Fontaine’s eyes narrowed and he couldn't lose the impression the woman was
displeased with him for some reason. But there was no sense pushing his way
into the hotel if Miss Campbell wasn’t inside.

Finally, he shrugged. “Well, I'll keep an eye out
for her, make sure no one slid off the road.”

“You just do that.” She straightened away from the
pillar and sobered. “But just remember, Mr. Hermann, no men are allowed on the
ranch. You accidentally step foot under that gate and you'll have your fool
head shot off.”

He nodded soberly. “Oh, I've been warned, Miss
Fontaine.”

She nodded once, then stared, showing no signs of
going inside out of the cold. Obviously, the woman took her guard duties
seriously. Maybe after he was gone, she could go get warm.

He took pity on her, tipped his hat again, and
prodded his horse on. When he reached the turn that would take him out the
south end of town, he looked back. Fontaine was still standing where he'd left
her, still watching him.

Yes, the next time he came to Sage River, his
parents—both his parents—would be happy to see him. But apparently Fontaine
would not.

Breakfast at Mrs. Kennedy's hotel that morning was
chaos.

Lots of bodies. Lots of men and women pairing up.
Lots of chatting. It was just like the dance the night before but the music in
the air had been replaced by the smell of food. Lots of food. The heavy aroma
of spicy sausage made Mary’s stomach turn in uncomfortable ways and she
suspected her appetite had left town with John Tanner at first light.

No one paid her much mind, for which she was
grateful. She was in no mood for the kind of small talk filling the
high-ceilinged room. The velvet paper on the walls could only absorb so much of
the tinkling of fine utensils and high pitched merriment. But the women were
barely familiar to her—nothing like the sleepy-eyed grumps she usually served
breakfast. They’d all reversed roles and now she was the cantankerous one. Most
mornings, she was the only female with a smile on her face until after the
brides and students had emptied their coffee cups and filled their bellies.

In the aftermath of the storm, the morning was
cast in a gray-blue light that seemed a little more blue and a little less gray
each time she looked at the large south-facing windows. Perhaps the roads would
clear sooner than Fontaine had predicted and they could all return to the ranch.

Mr. Sparks moved quickly away from the window. “She’s
coming!”

The room fell silent while at the same time, a
number of people jumped to their feet. Suddenly there were men settling into
the seats beside Mary, and they immediately tried to engage her in
conversation. The murmur of voices resumed all around her and everyone acted as
if nothing at all had just happened.

She wondered what crucial conversation she might
have missed while she’d been lost in thoughts of John Hermann.

“Tell me about your father,” Mr. Sparks urged from
her left. Then he gave her elbow a little squeeze.

She looked pointedly at his hand, but he didn’t
remove it. “You’re interested in my father?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “I am. I’d like
to know what kind of family you come from. Of course, it doesn’t really matter
in the end. I mean, you are an intelligent, lovely girl. And I’m sure you’d be
able to get along with just about anyone, wouldn’t you?”

“Do you like children?” Mr. Charleston interrupted
from the right. Across the table, a glance at Mr. Harris told her he was
interested in the answer as well. “Children?” the first man asked again.

“Yes.” Mr. Sparks frowned at her. “You do want
children…someday?” His eyes darted to the door and back, numerous times, like
he was warning her that someone was listening.

“Of course I’d like to have children someday.” She
tried not to let her tone reveal how silly she considered his question to be.
At the sound of someone clearing her throat behind her, she turned and found
Fontaine frowning at her from the doorway. It was a warning. She was to play
the role of a bride.

And apparently, her answer to Mr. Charleston’s
question was not enthusiastic enough for someone trying to land a husband.

“I’d like to have as many children as possible,”
she amended.

Fontaine nodded.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned back to her strangely
attentive audience. How could she sit still for this madness when she clearly
didn’t understand the game? Then she decided to play a game of her own.

She looked gently down at Mr. Spark’s balding head
and said, “But I’d like them to be tall.”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of
Hortense choking at the next table. After a few stunned breaths, Mr. Sparks
burst out laughing. Everyone else followed suit.

“Miss Campbell does have a quick wit,” she heard
some man say.

Mary looked around at the brides. None of them
seemed to mind that all attention had suddenly turned to her. They wanted
Fontaine to think Mary was playing her part, when obviously, they’d let the men
in on her little secret!

She turned in her seat and looked into Mr.
Charleston’s smiling eyes. “You know?” she whispered.

He leaned close to her ear. “Yes. We all know who
you are, or rather, who you aren’t. Now, you should laugh as if I’ve said
something particularly funny.”

She tilted her head back and laughed with no need
to pretend. She was so terribly relieved that none of these men were actually
interested in proposing to her that her laughter was sincere. And when the
conversation at the table carried on without her, she took the time to catch
the eye of every other woman in the room and give them a wink or nod of thanks.
And to prove her gratitude, she used the rest of the morning to point out their
redeeming qualities to each gentleman that showed interest. After all, she’d
known the brides for as long as they’d attended the school, not only for a day
or two. And by the time the sun was high, she’d done an impressive bit of
matchmaking.

Interestingly enough, there were two brides who
had resigned themselves to the men at their elbows, but were completely wrong
for each other. And Mary couldn’t help but intervene. A quick swap and four
content people became two happy couples eager for another week of getting to
know each other better. Poor Mary Lou might have ended up on a sheep ranch when
she’d longed for a life in the city. Mr. Charleston, from Boston, was a much
better match. And hard-working Millie Adair wanted a hard-working husband and a
bit of land to call her own. Boston would have left her fit to be tied, but
Charlie Sparks had finally begun to see the prize within that plain package.

A rough pull on her elbow dragged Mary away from
her conversation with Mr. Charleston and Mary Lou.

Fontaine whispered in her ear. “If you’re not
careful, you’ll have all eleven of them married off this week,” she hissed.

Mary frowned. “Isn’t that what you want? Wouldn’t
that make you a perfect success?”

Fontaine shook her head. “A perfect success means
we’d need twelve new brides by next week, Mary. Next week! And if we can’t come
up with twelve…”

Mary’s stomach dropped. “Then I’ll be dancing
again?”

“Then you’ll be dancing again.” The gunslinger
gave her a disgusted look and marched out of the room.

Immediately, everyone relaxed. Mrs. Kennedy
appeared and clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you’ve been enjoying
yourselves. But at this time the ladies will be leaving you.” She smiled when
the men sounded their disappointment. “It’s been an eventful day or two and
they’ll need to rest. And we need to get the dining room ready for this
afternoon’s Tea.”

Upstairs, the window allowed a large square of
sunshine to drape across the bed like a blanket. Just enough warmth for both
Mary and Millie as they tried to rest.

“I heard what Fontaine told you,” Millie said
without opening her eyes. “That she’ll make you dance and play the bride again
next week if we all get proposals today.”

“I did enjoy the dancing,” Mary said. “At least
what I can remember of it. I’m sure I can suffer through another evening of it.”
There was no use telling Millie about John now. If word got back to Alexandra,
the Scotswoman would only feel bad for Mary missing her chance to tell John who
she was.

“Well, you should resist dancing if you can,
especially if you’re not ready to marry. There’s just something…intoxicating
about it. I nearly lost my heart to Mr. Charleston and he wouldn’t have suited
me at all. I think it was his dancing that nearly seduced me.”

“Seduced?” Mary choked on the word.

“Yes, Mary. Be careful. If you hope to still be
available when Mr. Hermann returns to Sage River, be careful who you dance
with.”

In Mary’s mind came the image of herself and a
featureless husband, walking hand in hand out of the little chapel…only to come
face to face with John Hermann.

“John! It’s me, Mary Radley!”
she’d say.

And there would be her husband, shaking his head.
“No.
That’s not your name anymore.”

And Fontaine would laugh…