Short Straw Bride (3 page)

“Have you lived in Black Dog very long, Miss Williams?”

“Six years, four months and twelve days,” she answered, without thinking. She saw his brows shoot up and immediately wished she could catch the words back. She’d kept track of the days like a prisoner counting out her sentence, but she’d never
intended to reveal as much to anyone, least of all Luke McLain.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Anabel giggled. “You shouldn’t tease Mr. McLain, Eleanor. Why, it almost sounds like you haven’t been happy with us.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Eleanor mumbled, lowering her lashes to conceal the rebellion in her eyes. She’d get an earful from Aunt Dorinda later, she knew. And heaven knew what Luke McLain must think of her.

The awkward moment was interrupted by the arrival of Letty Sinclair. Eleanor felt a twinge of annoyance. Letty was her best friend and, ordinarily, she would have welcomed her presence, but on this occasion Eleanor couldn’t help but feel that Anabel’s soft blond beauty overshadowed her enough without the addition of Letty’s more exotic dark good looks. Guilt over the selfish thought made her smile all the more warmly as she turned to include Letty in their little group.

Reverend Mulligan made the introductions. Eleanor watched in resignation, sure that Luke McLain would be completely smitten by Letty’s raven hair and dark eyes.
There’s Italian blood there, mark my words,
Aunt Dorinda had said darkly when Letty first moved to Black Dog. But
Italian blood or not, the healthy condition of Letty’s bank balance assured her place in the town’s small society, even if her charm and generosity hadn’t already done so.

Better that Luke be smitten by Letty than Anabel, Eleanor thought. Better almost anyone than Anabel. By the time the minister had finished the introductions, Eleanor was already envisioning the wedding with herself as a heartbroken but noble bridesmaid.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sinclair,” Luke said, looking polite but not overly smitten.

“It’s Mrs. Sinclair,” Letty corrected, smiling in a way that made her eyes sparkle. “I’m a widow these three years past.”

“You must have been a child bride,” Daniel McLain said, his eyes blatantly admiring Letty’s trim figure.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. McLain.”

“It was intended as such, Mrs. Sinclair,” he responded with a grin that might have put a flutter in Eleanor’s heart if it hadn’t already been beating double time in response to his brother’s proximity.

A glance at Dorinda Williams’s face showed that she was less than pleased about this addition to their small group. While she’d rather have eaten nails than acknowledge that anyone could overshadow her precious Anabel, there was no denying Letty Sinclair’s charms.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Reverend Mulligan and his companions moved on. Instantly three of Dorinda Williams’s closest friends descended on them, wanting to hear every word that had been said.

“What charming young men,” Dorinda said, her superior look only slightly spoiled by the pleased flush on her cheekbones.

“What did they say?” Millie Peters demanded, her small nose quivering with eagerness.

“We merely exchanged a few pleasantries,” Dorinda said, trying to look as if she wasn’t enjoying being the center of attention. Letty and Eleanor exchanged an amused look.

“But why did Reverend Mulligan bring them to meet you particularly?” That was Cora Danvers, blunt spoken, as always. If her husband hadn’t owned half the bank, she wouldn’t have had a friend in the world. Dorinda stiffened at the question,
her smile tightening into something more nearly a grimace.

“I’m sure the McLains wanted to meet my Anabel,” she said through tight lips. “Isn’t it obvious that they’ve decided to take their rightful positions in our little society? Naturally, they’ll be interested in finding wives, and my little Anabel
is
the prettiest girl in town,” she admitted with an air of false modesty that clashed with her smug tone. She sighed and put on a regretful look. “Of course, if your Mary hadn’t run off with that drummer last fall, she might have given Anabel a run for her money.”

Cora flushed an unbecoming shade of purple, and Eleanor found herself almost admiring her aunt’s ability to find the most vulnerable place in which to slide the barb, Everyone in town knew about Mary Danvers running off with the corset salesman, but few people would have dared to mention the incident to her face. Since Zebediah Williams owned the other half of the bank, Dorinda felt safe in striking such a blow.

“Anabel is such a pretty girl,” Millie Peters said hastily, her soft voice filling the taut silence. “It would hardly be a surprise if one of the McLain boys came courting.”

“
I
wouldn’t wonder if they both came courting,” Dorinda said, forsaking modesty for maternal pride.

Eleanor watched Anabel preen, and ground her teeth together. Just the thought of her spiteful little cousin clinging to Luke McLain’s arm made her want to plant her foot firmly in Anabel’s fanny.

“A
girl with a gentle temperament—that’s what I want.” Luke narrowed his eyes against the sun. “One who won’t throw fits at a man.”

“The woman ain’t been born that won’t throw a fit.” Daniel reached into his pocket for his tobacco pouch and papers.

The brothers were riding back to the Bar-M-Bar, walking their horses in the midafternoon sun. After church they’d had lunch with Reverend Mulligan, who’d done his best to talk Luke out of his determination to find a wife.

What about love?
the older man had asked, running his fingers through his thinning hair. Though he’d been loath to admit it, the question had given Luke pause. It had made him think of the bonds between his mother and father, of the way they’d seemed to complete each other. After her husband’s death Lucinda McLain had carried on, but
there’d been something missing, a light that no longer shone in her eyes.

But love like that was a rare thing, he told himself. And he couldn’t afford to spend his life hoping he’d be lucky enough to find such a thing for himself. Besides, he was a little old to be chasing after dreams like that. If he hadn’t found a great love by now, he wasn’t likely to find it, especially not with the ranch demanding most of his time. Even if he wanted to go off on some wild-goose chase to find a woman he could love, he didn’t have the time for it. No, a marriage based on more practical considerations would suit him just fine.

“You see any likely-looking girls?” Daniel’s question dragged Luke’s thoughts back to the present. Daniel finished rolling his cigarette and flicked his thumbnail over a match to light it. Cupping his hands to shield it, he lit his cigarette, his eyes sliding to his brother as he shook out the match. “There were pretty girls there. If I’d known there were so many pretty churchgoing girls, I might have been more inclined to pay my respects to the Lord on a regular basis.”

“Careful. You don’t want to find yourself on the wrong end of a father’s shotgun.” Luke paused and then grinned. “Of course, if you did, there wouldn’t be any reason for me to get married.”

“I’ve got no intention of doing anything foolish,” Daniel said, dashing any hopes he might have had. “Though, from the looks of some of those girls, I’m not sure it’d be such a hardship to take one to wife. That redhead wasn’t hard on the eyes, and a little temper might make life interesting. A little fire can be a good thing.”

“In a horse, maybe, but not in a wife. My life is interesting enough.” Luke let the reins go slack as he reached for his own makings and began to roll himself a cigarette.

“What about the dark one? The widow. She was easy on the eyes.”

Luke considered Letty Sinclair briefly and then shook his head. “Sean says she lives on her own. A woman who’s been living on her own is likely to be set in her ways. I want a girl who’s willing to get set in
my
ways.”

“How about the one with the yellow hair?” Daniel suggested. “I can’t say I’d mind looking at that one over the breakfast table.”

“Too young.” Luke dismissed Anabel Williams out of hand. “Besides, I’d bet my last dime there’s a streak of mean in that one that’d make a man’s life mighty unpleasant. And a girl that pretty probably spends half her time in front of a looking glass, admiring her own reflection.”

Luke lit his cigarette and narrowed his eyes against the drift of smoke. “What I want is a girl who’s not so young that she’s got her head all full of romantic notions but not old enough to be set in her ways. Pleasant enough looking that it won’t be hard to go about the business of having sons with her but not so pretty that she’ll expect me to spend all my time admiring her. She’s got to be strong and willing to work.”

“That’s quite a shopping list,” Daniel said. He reached up to tilt his hat down a bit, the better to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. “You see a girl you think might live up to it?”

“Eleanor Williams,” Luke said, drawing on the cigarette.

“Don’t remember meeting an Eleanor Williams,” Daniel said after a moment. He blew out a thin stream of smoke and frowned at the endless vista of prairie ahead of them. “She wasn’t the one with the nose like a buzzard, was she?”

“No.” Luke shot him an irritated glance, though he couldn’t have said just why it annoyed him that Daniel didn’t remember the girl.

“She was the one standing next to the girl with the yellow hair. The cousin.”

“The one wearing the god-awful hat,” Daniel said, making the proper identification.

“Her choice of headgear don’t interest me,” Luke said shortly. Privately, he promised himself that the first thing he’d do when they got married was burn that hat.

“There ain’t much to her,” Daniel said, just as he had when Luke had asked Sean Mulligan about her.

“I’m looking for a wife, not a pack mule,” Luke said irritably.

“Need some of the same qualities in both,” Daniel said. “Strong and steady, even-tempered—” He caught his brother’s annoyed look and broke off but there was nothing repentant about his grin. “Course, I’ve never seen a pack mule I wanted to share a bed with.”

“Pack mule’s got more sense than to look at the likes of you,” Luke said.

“So you think Ellen Williams is the one?”

“Eleanor,” Luke corrected automatically. “And I won’t know till I’ve had a chance to talk to her a bit more.”

“I don’t know, Luke. Marrying’s a serious business.” The laughter died out of Daniel’s eyes, which were the same clear gray as his brother’s. “Maybe this ain’t such a good idea, after all. Maybe we ought to just forget the whole idea and try another housekeeper.”

If he’d thought about it, Luke would have said that he wanted nothing more than to give up the idea of finding himself a wife. And here was Daniel, saying that he
should
give it up. He opened his mouth to agree that it had been a dumb idea from the start and that they should put it behind them. And found himself remembering Eleanor Williams’s big brown eyes, the shy smile in them and heard her voice saying that she’d lived in Black Dog six years, four months and twelve days.

“I said I was going to find a wife and that’s what I’m going to do,” he heard himself say stubbornly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daniel’s surprised look. Since he was no less surprised himself, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his decision. He nudged the gray into a canter, effectively putting an end to the conversation. For some reason, the idea of having a wife just didn’t seem as bad as it once had.

The Wednesday after he and Daniel attended church, Luke found himself driving the buckboard into Black Dog to pick up supplies. He hadn’t expected to find himself back in town quite so soon and was irritated by the necessity. But since their last cook had decided that California’s winters would suit his old bones more than the biting
prairie winds, Luke and Daniel had been sharing the duty, and it was Luke’s turn to make the trip.

He nodded to Chet Longman, who ran the livery stable and was also the sheriff, when Black Dog had need of such. He heard the tinny sound of a piano from the Gold Dust Saloon as he drove past and decided he’d stop by for a drink before making the long, dusty drive back to the ranch. It wasn’t much consolation for a wasted day but it was better than nothing.

They had to find another cook, he thought irritably. Or a wife. His eyes narrowed as his attention was caught by a particularly ugly hat—a familiar hat. The woman wearing it was walking briskly down the boardwalk, the skirts of her mint green dress swaying invitingly. As Luke watched, she pushed open the door of Webb’s General Store & Emporium, and Luke allowed himself a grin. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a waste of time, after all.

When her aunt Dorinda had sent her out to buy a length of linen for new towels, Eleanor had welcomed the chance to get out of the house and enjoy a walk in the spring sunshine. And going to Webb’s would give her a chance to make amends to Mr. Webb for her blatant inattention to him after church on Sunday. When Reverend Mulligan had
brought the McLain brothers over to be introduced, Andrew Webb had been promptly and somewhat rudely forgotten. She couldn’t expect to draw a proposal from Mr. Webb if she ignored him just because she’d been introduced to another man. Even if that other man did happen to be the most attractive—

But that wasn’t the point, she reminded herself briskly. Even if Luke McLain was the embodiment of every girlish fantasy she’d ever had, she was no longer a girl. She was twenty now and it was time to put away childish dreams. There was no knight in shining armor to come riding out of the prairie and sweep her off to a better life. She was going to have to build that better life for herself, and Andrew Webb offered her the best hope for a new future.

So she’d put on her favorite dress, a soft green cotton that suited her coloring much better than most of Anabel’s castoffs, and she’d put on the ugly hat Mr. Webb had thought suited her. She’d wondered briefly if she could really be contemplating spending the rest of her life with a man who had such dreadful taste in millinery, but then reminded herself that there could be worse things. Like living with her aunt and uncle.

She’d spent a moment batting her eyes at her own reflection and trying to imitate Anabel’s way of looking at a man from under her lashes. But the look that was coquettish on Anabel seemed simply foolish on herself. Since Mr. Webb was looking for a mother for four small children, perhaps he’d be more impressed by common sense than coquetry. Common sense she had in abundance.

Drawing a deep breath, Eleanor pushed open the door of Webb’s. She immediately had the urge to turn and run, but the little bell over the door had already given away her presence and Andrew Webb was stepping out from behind the counter, his thin face wreathed in a smile.

“Miss Eleanor. What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”

“Mr. Webb.” Eleanor gave him her warmest smile and was pleased to see him blink and swallow hard.

“What can I help you with today?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“My aunt was hoping you’d have some good linen toweling. We’ve just finished spring cleaning and she’d like fresh towels to finish things off.”

“I have just the thing. Got it from St. Louis not two weeks ago.”

Eleanor followed him as he went to find the requested item. Looking at his scarecrow-thin figure and neatly combed sandy hair, she tried not to picture a pair of broad shoulders beneath a plain black coat and a head of deep brown hair in need of a cut.

“Best money can buy,” Andrew said proudly as he lifted a bolt of fabric onto the counter. “Your aunt won’t find any better, even if she went to Denver.”

“It looks like just what she had in mind,” Eleanor murmured. Her eyes were drawn to a bolt of royal blue grenadine. The deep, rich color would suit her coloring much better than her cousin’s castoff pastels. She reached out to finger the soft fabric, picturing it made up in a simple gown with a minimum of decoration, with perhaps just a touch of lace at the neckline and wrists to soften the severity of the cut.

“That’s much too dark a color for a young lady such as yourself, Miss Eleanor.” At Webb’s comment, she let her hand drop away from the fabric. “Something in a softer shade, perhaps. My late wife favored pinks and the softest of blues,” he said reminiscently. He seemed to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking and flushed a deep shade of red. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning my wife.”

“Not at all. It’s only natural that you think of her.”

“Yes. But life goes on and I’ve put aside my grief and am looking to the future.”

The fervent look he gave her left no doubt that he was hoping the future he looked toward included her. Looking into his watery eyes, Eleanor felt her heart sink. Was she really contemplating spending the rest of her life with this man? At most, she felt a mild liking for Andrew Webb. Could a happy marriage be built on so little?

She was saved the necessity of having to answer either him or herself by the jangle of the bell over the door. It rang again almost immediately and the harsh tones of Cora Danvers admonishing her son about something echoed through the store. Andrew jumped and blushed again, like a boy caught smoking his father’s cigars behind the privy. He glanced over Eleanor’s head toward the front of the store.

“Are you in a hurry, Miss Eleanor?”

“Not at all. Please take care of your other customers, Mr. Webb. I’ll find plenty to occupy myself.” She was relieved when he hurried back toward the front of the store. Perhaps if she didn’t have to look at him she’d be able to bolster her determination a little.

She heard Mr. Webb greet Cora Danvers, heard Cora’s son Horace offer some whined complaint, the words indistinguishable. She reached out to finger the blue grenadine again. She had a little money, but it would be wildly foolish to spend it on a bolt of cloth when she already had four dresses hanging in her room. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to wear something that suited her, she thought wistfully. In a dress like the one she’d envisioned, she wouldn’t feel like such a little dab of a female. She’d feel elegant and almost pretty. Maybe even pretty enough to draw the eye of a man as handsome as Luke McLain.

At the sound of someone approaching, she snatched her hand back from the fabric and turned, annoyed to feel herself flushing as if she were guilty of some crime. Luke McLain stood not three feet from her, and Eleanor felt her breath catch and her cheeks blush fiery red. She pressed one hand to her bosom, as if to physically still the sudden pounding of her heart.

Luke wondered why he’d thought of her as plain. The face beneath that god-awful hat was not beautiful, by any means, but it was certainly not plain. Not with those big brown eyes that made him think of a fawn and that full mouth that seemed just about made for a man to kiss. Her flush deepened
and he realized he’d been staring at her without speaking.

“Miss Williams. Reverend Mulligan introduced us at church last Sunday.”

“I remember, Mr. McLain.”
As if I could forget.

“A new spring dress?” he asked, gesturing to the bolt of grenadine.