Always and Forever Page 8

  A woman in the back, a brown-skinned giantess named Tess Dubois, stood. “Elvira Keppler got married over the weekend.”

  Grace let out an astonished laugh. “Married?”

  “Yep. Her fiancé finally saw the light. When Elvira told him she was headed to Kansas to be a mail order bride, her news pushed him right off the fence and into the preacher’s arms. She says to tell you thanks and Godspeed.”

  “Well,” Grace stated, “I guess Elvira won’t be joining us.”

  Everyone laughed. No one had any information on the other missing women, so Grace made a mental note to contact some of the alternates she’d chosen. She just hoped they were still interested. At the conclusion of the roll call, Grace invited each of the brides to stand and introduce herself to the group.

  The woman who stood first was a short, bespectacled woman named Daisy Green. She was a bit older than some of the other brides but had been chosen for her farm background and her nursing skills with animals. Next stood Sarah Mitchell and her younger sister Molly. Sarah wore an ill-fitting wig, and her barrel-shaped body seemed about to burst from her gown. Molly, the thinner of the two, had features so sharp she resembled a crane. Both women were seamstresses and spoke in such haughty tones, Grace hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in asking them along. Ignoring them for now, she turned her attention to the next woman rising to her feet.

  “My name is Loreli Winters and I’m a gambler.”

  Loreli was fairly tall, had ivory-gold skin and a shrewd pair of golden brown eyes. Her bright green dress with its black satin trim had a neckline that was far too racy for the gathering, but the flashy gown appeared costly and she wore it with style. Grace also liked the little black felt hat perched atop Loreli’s light brown curls.

  Grace could see the Mitchell sisters disdainfully staring Loreli up and down. Evidently not liking what they saw, they immediately began whispering behind their hands. Grace didn’t like their cattiness and was now certain the two were going to be trouble, but with five brides already unaccounted for, she didn’t want to dismiss them and have to find yet two more replacements.

  The introductions continued with Ruby O’Neal, a schoolteacher; Gertrude “Trudy” Berry, a washerwoman; young Fannie Ricks, a recent Oberlin graduate who explained why she wanted to go to Kansas this way: “All the men at home think I’m too intelligent to marry. It seems no one wants a smart wife.”

  Sitting next to Fannie was Zora Post, a twenty-five-year-old widow who’d gone from selling pepperpot on the streets of Philadelphia to owning three Chicago boardinghouses. She wanted to go to Kansas, she said, “To have the babies I wasn’t able to have because of my late husband Chester’s untimely death.”

  Following Zora were women named Viola, Maggie, Georgia, and Susan; there was a Lena, a Priscilla, an Eleanor, and a Tamar. A Sylvia stood; a Pauline stood. Wilma Deets was a hairdresser, and Rhea Hancock bragged that she made the best dandelion wine north of the Mason–Dixon line. The introductions didn’t end until every face had a name.

  All in all, the women impressed Grace as good choices. They seemed eager and friendly. Other than the Mitchell sisters, there didn’t seem to be a complainer or whiner in the lot.

  Once the introductions were completed, Loreli Winters asked, “Is Mr. Blake joining us tonight, Miss Atwood?”

  Grace answered with a shrug. “I thought he would be, but—”

  “He certainly is a handsome devil,” the teacher, Ruby O’Neal, tossed out.

  “That he is,” someone echoed. “If the men in Kansas turn out to be toads, can we draw straws for Mr. Blake instead?”

  More laughter followed. Grace sensed the group growing closer, except for the Mitchell sisters. The seamstresses were sitting there with sour looks on their faces, but she didn’t worry; they’d come around.

  Next, Grace had everyone assemble around the large and very crudely drawn map she’d sketched on a large piece of brown butcher’s paper. The map showed the valley and how she envisioned the camp might be set up. “How many of you have driven teams before?”

  The spectacled Daisy Green shyly raised her hand as Grace had expected. She hadn’t expected to see Oberlin graduate Fannie Ricks’s hand, though. The woman looked too cultured. “My papa owns a livery,” she said by way of explanation. “Didn’t I put that on my sheet?”

  Grace shook her head. “No.”

  “Then I’m sorry, Miss Atwood. I’ve been around horses all my life. Drove my first team at the age of ten.”

  A few of the other women raised their hands, including Loreli Winters. “I was owned by a colonel in Kentucky before the war. Horses, drinking, and gambling were all he knew.”

  Sarah Mitchell couldn’t seem to contain her distaste any longer. “Miss Atwood, I must ask, are we really going to be subjected to a gambling woman in our midst? What type of man would want her as a bride?”

  Before Grace could respond, Trudy Berry cracked, “Probably not the same man that’ll want to marry you, so don’t worry.”

  A few muffled giggles were heard, and Sarah drew herself up in outrage. Trudy looked back at Loreli and winked. Grace saw Loreli smile in reply.

  Grace knew she had to quash this dissension before it began to fester. “Miss Mitchell, if you and your sister would rather not be a party to the journey—”

  “Oh, no,” Molly spoke up quickly, “I’m certain that isn’t what Sister meant, is it?”

  “Well—no,” Sarah admitted, in response to her sister’s pointed look. “Molly and I wish to go to Kansas. We’re hoping to find two men able to meet our exacting standards.”

  Somebody snorted.

  Grace fought to keep her smile from peeking out. “Then you won’t mind traveling with the rest of the ladies?”

  “No.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, let’s get back to the map.”

  They talked about a configuration for the many tents that would be their temporary homes and the equal division of chores. One of the women thought it would be nice if they had common meals in order to get to know one another better. Grace thought that a marvelous idea. The others did as well.

  The washerwoman, Trudy Berry, asked, “For those of us who need extra money, can we take in laundry?”

  “From outside the camp?” Grace asked.

  The dark-skinned Trudy nodded.

  Grace didn’t see why not. “There’s a small township nearby, and I see no reason why that can’t be explored. The men in Kansas have sent me ample funds for outfitting the trip, but it never hurts to have coin of your own.”

  “Amen,” someone declared.

  As she was winding up, Jackson walked in. He was dressed in his usual black attire beneath the sweeping black duster, and his dark handsomeness touched every woman in the room. “Evening, ladies. Miss Atwood.”

  Grace nodded. “Mr. Blake.”

  The rest of the ladies greeted him with hellos and smiles.

  Grace looked up at the man who’d kissed her so tenderly and she tried to put the lingering echoes out of her mind. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about us.”

  “Forget about my brides? Never. I just had a hard time making my way across town. Couldn’t find a hack anywhere, wound up walking part of the way. What did I miss?”

  Grace filled him in. “We’re five women short. We can account for one—she got married this weekend.”

  “Really? What about the others?”

  Grace shrugged. “No idea, but if I don’t hear from them by Friday, I’ll contact the alternates.”

  “That’s all you can do,” he said. He looked around. “Is it too late for introductions?”

  Before Grace could reply, the women rose one by one and gave Jackson their names. Even the Mitchell sisters were smiling broadly. He responded to each bride with a nod or a hello.

  “When will we be moving to the camp?” one of the women asked Grace.

  “Monday morning, unless you hear otherwise.” />
  “So soon?” Loreli asked.

  Grace nodded. “We’ve much to do and to learn before we leave Illinois and the sooner we begin the sooner we can get underway.”

  Grace looked around. “Are there any more questions on the campsite?”

  No one had any. “Then I think it’s time you ladies met the men who are wanting to be your husbands.”

  From a large portfolio Grace withdrew the stack of photographs and portraits of the Kansas men and spread them out on the table. “By all means, please take your time in deciding. There are short biographies on the backs of each man’s likeness. If you see someone you feel strongly about and wish to make your decision now, go right ahead. If some of you prefer to wait until we get to the camp to decide, that’s fine also.”

  That said, Grace stepped back out of the way as the women descended upon the pictures. While the brides viewed the choices, Grace and Jackson took a seat at a table away from the fray.

  He told her, “All the ladies seem to be real fine choices. I think you chose well.”

  Grace appreciated his comments, but she did have a few misgivings. “I’m a bit concerned about the Mitchells. They wanted to know if they were really going to have to be subjected to a gambling woman in their midst all the way to Kansas.”

  “Which one’s a gambler?”

  “Loreli Winters.”

  He turned to view Loreli for a moment. “Why’d you pick a gambler?”

  She shrugged. “My instinct says she might be a valuable addition.”

  “Your instincts,” he echoed doubtfully.

  “Yes, I’ve always wanted to learn to play poker.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “And the Mitchell sisters objected to her coming along.”

  “They did until I asked if they wanted to stay behind.”

  “Good for you. What did they say?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if they get too offended, we can always drop them off at a town somewhere on the way.”

  “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

  As their gazes held, Grace could feel herself succumbing to his spell again. She swung her attention away. “I need to see how the women are doing.”

  She hastened over to the gathering and therefore didn’t see the knowing look in his eyes as he watched her depart.

  Putting Jackson out of her mind for now, Grace meandered through the group listening to myriad conversations and stopping here and there to see how the choosing up was going. The Kansas men were letting the women do the selecting and vowed to honor whatever choices were made. Grace found the plan a lot more satisfying than having the women looked over like slaves on a block once they reached Kansas.

  Schoolteacher Ruby O’Neal asked, “What if we don’t find a man to suit, Miss Atwood?”

  Grace hadn’t really dealt with that possibility. “Well, I suppose any woman who can’t will have to pay her own way. The Kansas men are only sponsoring women who’ll marry.”

  “So the choice has to be made by when?”

  “The day we arrive at the camp.”

  Ruby scanned the faces of the two portraits she held in her hands. “Okay, Miss Atwood, I’ll decide.”

  Grace smiled sympathetically.

  The women spent another thirty minutes or so evaluating their choices. More than half went over to Grace to state their picks formally and have the names of their chosen mates written into her ledger.

  “Can we keep the portraits of the men we’ve picked?” asked one woman as she scanned the photograph in her hand.

  “Certainly,” Grace replied. “It’ll be a good way to recognize them once we get to Kansas.”

  In response to Grace’s words, a soft rustle of excitement flowed from the group as women compared photographs. Tess Dubois stuck the small face of her chosen mate down into the well of her ample bosom. “So he’ll get used to sleeping there ahead of time,” she told the group. The women howled, then Grace howled, too, when she realized Tess had chosen Grace’s cousin, Price!

  Most of the other women who’d made choices held the photographs and likenesses as if they were made of gold. Grace even saw a few women give a kiss to the men they’d chosen before carefully placing them in their handbags. All in all, it had been a productive and winning meeting. Grace was not naive enough to think the women were going to get along like a happy family all the way to Kansas; issues and arguments were certain to arise, personalities were going to clash, and feelings were bound to be hurt, but right now everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, and she vowed to do everything in her power to keep it that way for as long as she could.

  Proceeding less smoothly were her efforts to distance herself from the heady effects of one Jackson Blake. Just looking at him made her want to be kissed again. She knew she shouldn’t be having such thoughts, especially in a church, but he was impossible to ignore. He stood talking to a group of the would-be brides, and all she could think about was how tall he was and how handsome. She watched the way he moved, the way he smiled, the firm set of his chin, his vivid eyes.

  “You’re going to give yourself away.”

  Grace snapped back to reality to see Loreli Winters standing beside her. Grace stumbled to speak, “I—I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said, you’re going to give yourself away. You keep looking at him like he’s the last piece of chocolate on earth, and he’s going to know for sure that you’re interested in him.”

  Grace’s first instinct was to lie and deny having any interest in the Texan, but the gambler had such a knowing look on her face, Grace decided to go with the truth. “Was I that obvious?”

  “As a skunk standing next to a bright red barn.”

  Grace chuckled. “Then thanks for saving me.”

  “You’re welcome. We girls have to stick together.”

  That said, Loreli Winters walked back over to the group and Grace congratulated herself for having invited Loreli along.

  Grace let the women visit for a few moments longer, then looked over at Jackson. “Do you have anything to add before we close?”

  “Yes,” he replied, and turned to address the gathering. “Ladies, when you’re deciding what to take to Kansas, remember—the teams can pull only so much weight. I know you’re probably wanting to bring armoires and sideboards and other kinds of furniture, but if you could get your folks or a friend to ship you some of the heavier pieces after you’re settled in Kansas, our going will be easier. Any questions?”

  No one had any. Grace looked around the room. “Any last concerns?” No one seemed to have any of those, either.

  “Then Mr. Blake and I will be in touch with you, hopefully no later than this Friday with final details, like maps and such, so get your packing started.”

  The women were buzzing with excitement as they gathered up their coats and other belongings and headed for the door. When they were gone, Grace looked over to Jackson. “Everything went wonderfully.”

  “Yes, it did. You’re very good at this.”

  “Thank you. We seem to do well together.”

  “I agree.”

  Grace could feel him tempting her, but she fought her response and began gathering up her things. “I meant, we work well together.”

  “It’s what I meant, too,” he lied, and followed her to the door.

  Outside, the night air held the chill of early spring. “How’re you getting home?” he asked her, not sure he was ready to part from her just yet.

  “A hack, as soon as I can hail one.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “It’s only half past nine, Mr. Blake,” Grace pointed out easily. “It isn’t awfully late.”

  “It’s too late to be out here alone.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m accustomed to it. Sometimes I’m at the bank much later than this.”

  Jackson didn’t like hearing that. She was a beautiful woman who probably knew little about defending herself. It made her ripe pickings for som
eone intending her harm. “I’ll see you home.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Grace sighed with frustration. “Mr. Blake, I am a grown woman, and as a grown woman, I—”

  Jackson listened as she went on and on about women, society, and a woman’s place in it, and when he’d heard enough, he pulled her to him and kissed her so thoroughly and completely, Grace melted like a rose in heat. She saw sunsets, heard bells ring, and when he finally turned her loose, he looked down at her lying limp across his arm and asked, “You were saying?”

  Grace couldn’t remember what she’d been saying.

  “Shall I hail us a hack?”

  Still tottering, she nodded.

  A smile flitted across his dark eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

  As they rode in the seat behind the driver through the dark Chicago streets, Grace used the cover of the shadows to openly observe the man at her side. Less than four months ago she’d sworn never to risk her heart again, yet her attraction to Blake seemed to be sending her down that slippery slope once again.

  In spite of all her pledges and vows, his kisses left her wanting more. Of course, she would never admit that fact to him; she was certain females had been falling over him since primary school and he didn’t need another notch on his bed post, but how did she combat the pull of such an overwhelming man. You just ignore it, her inner voice declared. It doesn’t matter if his kisses make you see sunsets and hear bells ring, Nothing good will come of it—nothing. You don’t need a man in your life, and you certainly don’t need to journey all the way to Kansas with a broken heart. Sighing with rightness of the advice, Grace grudgingly admitted to herself it was true.

  The driver stopped the hack in front of her house. Jackson helped her out, then escorted her up to the porch. As they stood there in the darkness, she looked up at him outlined against the moonlight. Lord, he’s gorgeous. In direct contrast to the sage advice she’d given herself only moments ago, some unknown part of herself wanted to throw caution to the wind and act upon the wild call that seemed to be arching between them.