Indiana Goes West (Mail Order Brides of Pioneer Town, Book 1) (8 page)

“Misty, a moment with my daughter,
please.”

Misty hurried out. Indiana looked up at her
mother.

“I can see that you overheard Mr. Hollway,”
she said.

“I did,” Indiana said.

“There is nothing I can do. It is time you
marry, and this estate stands to gain enough money to secure our
futures. I had hoped for another option, but now, it seems, time is
of the essence.”

“I do not love him,” Indiana said defiantly.
“I do not even like him.”

Deborah laughed softly and shook her head. It
wasn’t a mean laugh, but it stung her daughter just the same. “If
only we all could marry for love,” the older woman said. “What a
nice world that would be.”

“I can marry for love.”

“You cannot. I need this marriage, or
everything your father worked for will be taken.”

“Why did he do this to us?”

“What do you mean?” Deborah asked.

“Father. He left us with nothing.”

“He left me with something, and you girls are
supposed to marry. He knew that. He simply hadn’t planned on dying
before that had come to fruition.”

Both women were silent for some time. And
then Deborah spoke again. “Perhaps not,” she said. “Perhaps
something else will make you love him.”

“I shall never love him! Is that acceptable?
Would that be acceptable to you? If I never love the man you force
me to marry?”

Deborah thought for a moment. “It’s the way
life is sometimes. Even if you don’t love him, if you don’t allow
yourself to—even if you don’t, you’ll love your children.”

“I won’t have children with him.”

Deborah shook her head and her tone grew ice
cold again. “This conversation is unfruitful. I will remind you of
your upcoming journey, and you will be packed and ready in three
days time. And need I remind you there will be no more trips out
with Mr. Chase?”

“What?”

“You cannot be seen around town in the
company of a man other than the one you are set to marry. It is
most unseemly. I had hoped… well, never mind. Mr. Chase has proven
to be too tardy.”

New hot tears stung Indiana’s eyes, and she
glared at her mother. Deborah for her part looked somewhat upset,
but she turned and left with nothing else said between them.
Indiana got up and shut her door, locking it so Misty could not
come back in. Sure enough, within minutes of Indiana lying down on
her bed, the maid knocked on the door. “Let me in,” she
whispered.

Indiana did not answer her. After several
minutes, Misty left, and Indiana was truly alone. She wondered if
she would always be alone, because that was exactly how she felt at
that moment. She rolled over onto her side, still wearing her
dress. The dress crinkled and ruffled audibly each time she moved,
and the sound annoyed Indiana so much that she didn’t move any
more. She stared at the wall, and the tears still came, sliding
down her face sideways, making her pillow damp where they pooled.
She didn’t know how her mother could be so unfair. She had always
felt closer to her father, and she knew that if he lived, he never
would have let her mother give her away.

Indiana was filled with a mix of emotions, so
full of sadness and anger that she was sure she would burst. She
cried until she couldn’t weep any longer, and then she finally fell
asleep.

Chapter 14

Indiana cast a quick glance around the room.
It had been a long while since she had been in this establishment.
It felt nostalgic. Of course, she came during the dinner hour with
her family. It looked very different in the light of day. The floor
and wooden tables glistened from fresh polish in the sunlight that
streamed in from the windows. She never realized what a delicate
pattern was painted on the high walls. It made her wonder how they
possibly decorated such a large room.

The smell of dried flowers and wood polish
saturated the air, masking the scent of wax and lamp oil. She could
even catch the sharp scent of fresh lemons. A merchant must have
brought in a fresh crop recently. She had not realized that they
would be in season.

Indiana was well used to places like this.
She often attended events with her family. Her parents were
frequently invited to parties and banquets, often to discuss
business or donations for various causes. Hardly a week passed that
they did not have a social obligation to attend. They did not seem
to bring Father much joy. In private, he often said that the people
were only interested in his investments. She had never quite
understood why he would say that of his hosts, especially with how
kind and helpful they were to his own causes.

Yet now she understood only too clearly. The
invitations and smiling faces had dried up promptly with the death
of her father. It was almost as if the rest of the family had been
forgotten, ghosts that haunted a mansion their benefactor had
already vacated.

So when Morgan invited her to lunch, she was
beside herself with delight. She could swear that Misty was even
more excited than she was. She had Indiana up practically at dawn
to soak, brush, and try on outfits.

Her mother was an even bigger surprise.
Despite her ordering Indiana never to see Morgan again, she had not
put up any protest at all when Morgan called at the house and
invited Indiana to lunch. Indiana was surprised by her mother’s
fickleness, but she was grateful for it all the same.

“I cannot tell you how honored I am to have
you join me for lunch, Miss Indiana.” Morgan smiled in her
direction, looking every bit the gentleman.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Morgan,” Indiana
replied in shy formality. It was so refreshing to be in good
company. It was all she could do to remember her composure,
especially when all she wanted to do was fidget and act like a
foolish girl over the occasion. She could not fathom what was
coming over her.

Perhaps it was the company. After all, she
had been forced to entertain Mr. Hollway as a potential husband
ever since he had arrived in town. Indiana fully knew the
seriousness of the situation, but
she
would never marry her
children to outsiders through mail order bride newspaper
advertisements. This experience taught her that the men who placed
them were from someplace women did not see fit to live—or that they
were men whom a woman had to be desperate to marry.

Compared to that, what could be more perfect
than a meal with a man like Mr. Morgan Chase? He was polite and
cordial. To her amazement, on their way there he had started to
talk a little on politics, a subject not many men would seek to
talk of with a young lady. When he saw her surprise, he explained
that his mother was always speaking politics. She was even planning
to vote in the next election. Indiana was unaware that there were
other states that allowed women to vote. He had assured her that
women’s minds and opinions had quite a lot of bearing in the state
of Wyoming. In fact, they’d had voices in the polling booths for
many years now, since December of 1869. His mother and grandmother
had the year stamped so firmly in his mind, that he was never
likely to forget it.

This amazed Indiana. She knew of several
attempts in her lifetime to attain women’s suffrage in California.
The ladies sometimes gossiped about groups and publications that
had come out on the matter. All attempts had failed or were vetoed,
however. To hear that a supposedly less sophisticated place like
Wyoming had already been enjoying that luxury for some time was
quite a shock. She pondered whether her family would be in this
position had they been ranchers in Wyoming instead of investors in
San Francisco.

She busied herself with an imaginary wrinkle
in her handkerchief as she tried to think of a clever topic about
which to chat. After the revelation on their way there, she found
the usual topics a lady would speak about woefully inadequate. Nor
did she want to display her blindingly obvious ignorance of such
things over lunch.

“Wyoming sounds so fascinating,” she prompted
as he pulled out her chair for her. “What is it like, on your
ranch?”

“I suppose it is much like any other ranch.”
His tone was pleasant as he pushed her seat in and moved to sit
down. “We’re situated in Pioneer Town which is near a significant
rising township. A man who goes by the name Buffalo Bill is trying
to develop it. He calls it ‘Cody City’. I don’t see it becoming a
city in my lifetime, but we do have better access to more merchants
and doctors than some others.”

Indiana had heard of the man he was talking
about, the renowned Buffalo Bill Cody, infamous for hunting buffalo
along with other escapades, yet his involvement in the pony express
was said to be praiseworthy. His reputation flourished or suffered
depending with whom one talked. She tried to imagine what it was
like to live in such a rough and wild landscape.

“Do you have many troubles with cattle
thieves?” she asked curiously. She instantly felt foolish for being
so nosy. Her mother would certainly have had her head for bringing
up the subject of losses and weaknesses. Most businessmen prefer to
boast of their accomplishments. They want to look powerful and
invincible in the eyes of their listener. She could practically
hear her mother telling her to speak only when spoken to.

Morgan, however, seemed pleased by the
question. “Not so much for our family. We keep a large herd of
cattle, but our business comes from breeding horses that can make
the cattle runs. One good horse will sell for more than five head
of cattle. We also grow hay and barley. What doesn’t go to our
herds sells well to town and the surrounding ranches.”

How clever! She’d heard that the cattle runs
were a risky business, but his family made money by supplying the
risk-takers instead. It wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t people like him
advertise for mail order brides? He was completely different from
Mr. Hollway. He was articulate, open minded, well mannered... and
handsome.

She tried to push the mental image of the
belligerent rancher from Texas from her mind. She listened as
Morgan talked about the landscape. Rough but beautiful. A
hardworking staff that helped his family keep things running
smoothly. Travelers from all over the nation making their way
across the trail from time to time. Seeking out gold in California,
or to stake out a settlement of their own. Hunters. Researchers.
Occasional riff raff. All manner of people followed the trail
through Cody City.

Morgan and Indiana moved from one subject to
another as they ate. It was quite some time before she realized
that the lunch crowd had long dispersed. When was the last time she
had lost track of time in a discussion?

Morgan seemed as interested in the
conversation as she was. He was not merely entertaining her, for he
asked about some of her interests. She had told him how her father
used to let her try to keep his books for him, always checking her
work of course. This seemed to thrill him. A good rancher valued a
woman with a good head on her shoulders, he had said. The depth of
his praise had been unexpected, given her experience with Mr.
Hollway.

Indiana suppressed a sigh as the awful toad
of a man haunted her mind like bad gossip. She could not imagine
the man valuing a woman who knew more math than the managing of a
household. The more she talked to Morgan, the less she wanted to
accept the awful Mr. Hollway’s offer to marry her.

She sighed wistfully. “It sounds like such a
wonderful place.” Morgan Chase clearly lived where there was some
concept of respect for a woman. He was overseeing a thriving
territory with a major town just in reach. She could even see
herself rolling up her sleeves to help wherever she could. She was
not afraid of work. She’d gladly trade off servants for a well
bucket if it meant she could speak her own mind. “I’d love to see
it for myself one day.”

“I’m glad you believe so,” Morgan actually
looked relieved.

To Indiana, there was something about the way
he moved and the tone of his voice that made his remark sound more
than simply a polite response. Every nerve fired in anticipation as
she tried to understand exactly what it was she was hoping to hear
next.

He cleared his throat as he met her expectant
stare. “I had a word with your mother. She told me everything.”

“My mother?” she repeated in confusion, her
brow furrowing. ‘Everything’? What did he mean by that?

* * *

“You do not have to marry Mr. Hollway,”
Morgan said insistently, his hands clasping and unclasping in front
of him as Indiana sat numb and silent. The quieter she was, the
more he tried to assure her it was a real alternative. “I would be
more than happy to take his place. I’m not saying the ranch is an
easy life, but I would do my utmost to ensure you want for
nothing.”

Indiana wrung her hands tightly in her lap as
she stared at the table in front of her, focusing on maintaining
her composure. A good man was showing interest in her, but it was
just because he was a good decent man, one who couldn’t stand by
and watch a young woman be bartered off by her own mother to
someone like Cade Hollway.

Morgan was clearly committed to the act of
saving her from a terrible marriage. If she didn’t marry him, she
would have to marry Cade.

This kind, wonderful man would never have let
that rest on his conscience. She was simply a moral obligation. The
conversation today was to see how to make the best of the
arrangement. It had nothing to do with the love she thought she was
feeling for the man in front of her. It was just a business deal
with her mother.

And that was tearing her to pieces
inside.

Indiana reached up to dab at the edge of her
eyes as she blinked back tears. Morgan froze in his rapid
explanations about the ranch as her tears came into view, paling
visibly as he realized something was amiss.