The Anonymous Bride (32 page)

Garrett ignored him and sorted through the entries. “Which one you want to try on first?” He held up the blue shirt and fingered the collar. “This one’s nice.”

Luke shrugged and crossed his arms, wishing he was anywhere else.

“You know you’ve gotta do it, so get going.” Garrett shoved the shirt toward Luke. “Put it on.”

He heaved another sigh but shucked his shirt and pulled on the cornflower blue one. It fit like a gun sliding into a perfectly made holster. He adjusted the shoulders and buttoned it up. Holding out his arm, he eyed the sleeve. “Fits well enough, but the sleeves could be a tad longer. I do like this color.”

Garrett held up the dark blue shirt and waggled his brow.

Luke removed the medium blue shirt and tried on the indigo one. It, too, fit well, and the sleeves were longer, but the seams under his arms were too small and restricted his movement.

“This one’s got a little stain on it. Maybe one of them brides poked her finger while stitching it—or maybe the kid was right.” Garrett rubbed at the spot and unfolded the tan shirt. “I like how it has this brown stitching on it. That’s different.”

“That’s the one Jack claimed was stolen.” Luke looked it over, but the tan garment revealed no clues as to who had made it. He tried it on, trying to imagine Rachel’s hand sewing it. But if she had, she’d been making it for James, not him. He shucked it off and tossed it on the desk. Garrett held up the final entry. Luke resisted rolling his eyes. What sane man tried on four shirts in a single day?

He shoved his arm in the white shirt, but when he tried to get his second arm in, he couldn’t. The shoulders were too narrow. A rip sounded, and one of the sleeves tore off.

“Oops.” Garrett grinned. “Guess that’s not the winner.”

Luke tossed the ruined shirt on the pile and pulled his comfortable chambray back on.

“So, which one did you like best?” The mayor drew in closer and leaned over the desk.

“I don’t know. The stitching on the tan and the cornflower blue was the nicest, I guess, but I like the dark blue color best.”

“So the dark blue is the winner?” Garrett asked, picking it up again.

Luke studied it, then shook his head. “No, it’s too tight in the underarms and reminds me too much of my cavalry uniform. I wore that color for ten years.”

Garrett held up the tan and medium blue shirts and wiggled them in front of Luke.

“The cornflower blue’s my favorite.”

“Do I hear a but coming?” Garrett lifted his brows.

Delaying his response, Luke looked out the window. Dozens of people stared in at him. Finally, he turned back to his cousin. “What if that anonymous bride made that one?”

Garrett shrugged one shoulder. “You have a three-in-four chance of it not being hers.”

“Yeah, but that still bothers me.” Luke snagged his hat off the back of the chair and put it on. “Seems like I have a right to know whose competing, being as I’m supposed to marry the winner of the contest.”

Garrett grinned. “Now that would take all the fun out of the competition.”

Luke leaned forward and glared across the desk. “This isn’t a game, Garrett. This is my future, my life we’re talking about.”

His cousin sobered. “I know. Sorry for making light of things.” Garrett stood and set his hands on his hips. “Look, Luke. Mark and I didn’t know all this craziness would happen when we ordered those brides. We were honestly just tryin’ to help you.”

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I know, but what you did was really dumb. You took those gals away from their homes and families. Gave them hope that they could start over here and get married. Even if I choose one, that still leaves two without husbands.”

“Leave them to me and Mark. We’ll figure out something.”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t know what, unless you plan to marry them yourselves.”

Garrett made a choking sound as if his neck were in a noose.

Luke grinned. “How do you like it when the tables are turned?”

“They aren’t exactly turned, are they? I didn’t promise to marry anyone.” Garrett’s mouth cocked sideways in a teasing grin.

“I sure wish I hadn’t either.” He shouldn’t have yielded to the pressure everyone put on him. A man should marry the woman he loved. A woman who was his friend. Rachel immediately came to mind.

Maybe he had it all wrong. Men in the West married women they’d just met all the time. The only way to truly get over Rachel would be to marry someone else. So why did that sit so badly with him?

Mayor Burke reached out and grabbed the blue shirt. “Well, let’s get back out there and see who made this shirt.”

“Hold on a minute. I’m going to have to figure out who stole that tan shirt.”

“That kid’s probably just making up that story.” The mayor tugged on his vest.

“Jack didn’t have any idea?” Mark asked.

“No, but I don’t mind telling you that I’ve had suspicions about one of the brides for a while now.”

“Which one?” Mayor Burke’s fuzzy brows lifted.

Luke shook his head. “I’m not ready to say just yet.”

Garrett looked as if he was staring out the window in deep thought. He glanced back at Luke, a worried expression on his face. “Could Jack and Rachel be in any danger?”

Luke shook his head. “Don’t think so, but I’ll keep a closer watch on them.”

Outside, the crowd started chanting for Luke. “Marshal! Marshal!”

Holding the winning shirt, the mayor headed for the door but suddenly turned back and collected the other shirts. “If I go walking out with just one, everybody will know that’s the winner.”

“Makes sense.” Garrett nodded.

“After I announce the winner, I’ll put the shirts back on the table. Maybe one of you can keep an eye on them and see if the person who brought the tan shirt will reclaim it.”

“That’s not likely if it was stolen.” Luke pursed his lips.

Mark straightened. “Unless they feel the need to return it so Rachel doesn’t know it was ever gone.”

Luke grinned and slapped his cousin on the shoulder. “If I ever need a deputy, you’ve got the job.”

Mark’s response was lost as the mayor opened the door. The crowd roared with excitement. Luke followed his cousins outside and glanced around, hoping to see Rachel. It looked like everyone in the county had shown up but her.

The mayor lifted his hands, two shirts in each one. “Quiet down. Hush up, now. We have a winner, although I want to say the competition was stiff.” He looked over his shoulder at the brides. “Nice job, ladies.”

His announcement sent the crowd into another frenzy. After a few moments, the noise settled, and the mayor continued. He held up his left hand again—the hand that held the tan and white shirts. “These two are not the winners.”

Luke watched the brides’ expressions as the mayor tossed the shirts back onto the table. Miss O’Neil ducked her head and wrung her hands. Miss Bennett’s eyes gleamed, and Miss Blackstone puckered up her lips and shoved her hands to her hips. He was certain he knew who’d taken the tan shirt.

With a blue shirt in each hand, the mayor waved them around. “One of these is the winner.”

The crowd silenced as if they were awaiting a life-changing announcement—and well it could be, for one woman. Mayor Burke held up the dark blue shirt. Miss Bennett’s hands flew to her chest, and she leaned forward.

“This one here,” the mayor said, “is not the winner.”

Miss Bennett blinked and fell back against the side of the jail, disappointment dulling her countenance. Something twisted in Luke’s gut. The last shirt must be from the anonymous bride. Bile churned, and thoughts of all the unmarried women in the area, from Bertha Boyd to the Widow Denison with her five kids, raced across his mind.

“Here’s our winner, folks.” Holding the cornflower blue shirt by the corners, the mayor peered back over his shoulder again. “Which one of you ladies does this belong to?”

No one moved, just as Luke knew they wouldn’t. The mayor scowled and turned to face the brides. “This doesn’t belong to one of you gals?”

All three shook their heads.

“Well.” The mayor faced the crowd again. “Looks like the anonymous bride is our winner again. If you’re here, ma’am, would you please step forward?”

Other than the playful shouts of some children, total silence reigned. Heads turned left and right as each person seemed to be looking for the anonymous bride.

“She’s not coming. Just like last time.” Miss Bennett stepped forward. “If she can’t bother to show up, seems like she ought to be disqualified.”

Luke knew her plan. If the winning entry was thrown out, she would be named the winner. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The blond wasn’t hard on the eyes, but he didn’t care for her tendency to boss others around. He preferred a woman who was quieter—and sweeter.

Mayor Burke surveyed the crowd. “What do y’all think? Should we toss out the winner?”

Yea
s and
nay
s sounded all around, until the mayor held up his hand. “Let’s take a vote. Who all thinks the anonymous bride should be disqualified?”

“Yea!” The loud cheer filled the air.

“All right now, who’s opposed?”

An even louder roar rumbled down the street. Luke’s heart sunk. He’d halfway hoped the anonymous bride would be eliminated. But that would mean he’d have to marry one of the boardinghouse brides. Somewhere, deep in his heart, he was holding out for someone better suited to him. He just couldn’t let his brain—or his heart—wrap around who that was.

He stared out at the many faces in the crowd. So many he knew, and others he didn’t. Could the anonymous bride be standing right there in the road but not have enough nerve to step up and announce herself?

“All right, the nays have it. Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mayor Burke said. “I’m giving the marshal two weeks to take each of the brides to dinner one night so he can get to know them better. If the anonymous bride doesn’t reveal herself in a fortnight, she’ll be banned from participating further.”

People swarmed Luke once the mayor dismissed them. He fielded comments and questions and an interview from Jenny Evans. When the music started, the townsfolk drifted back to their friends and families.

Luke turned around, and his gut twisted. The tan shirt was no longer on the table with the other shirts.

***

Monday morning, Luke strode into the freight office with Max at his side. The whole town was buzzing over the mysterious bride, and he was sick of fending off questions from folks who wanted to know if he knew who she was. He needed some advice. He was feeling more and more that he couldn’t marry one of the boardinghouse brides.

Garrett looked up from his messy desk. “Well, howdy there, cuz.”

Luke nodded. “Where’s Mark?”

“Gone to fetch some coffee. Want some?”

“I could use a cup. Been several hours since I had some at the boardinghouse.”

Garrett leaned back in his chair. “So which of them brides are you gonna ask out first?”

Luke crossed the room and leaned against Mark’s tidy desk. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure a way to get out of taking them at all.”

“The mayor won’t like that.”

“Nope, I don’t guess so. But I’ve been praying hard about what to do, and I haven’t gotten leave from the Lord to marry any of those gals.”

“I reckon He’ll give you guidance if you keep praying. Maybe you outta go talk to the reverend. He might could offer you some good advice.” Garrett leaned his chair back against the wall and put his feet on his desk. “Then again, you could walk right out the door and marry the first bride you see.”

“You might be onto something there.” Luke ran his hand over his bristly jaw. He hadn’t even taken time to shave before he rode out.

“Right about what?”

“Talking to Reverend Taylor.” Luke should have thought of that sooner. He was still a fairly new Christian and needed the wisdom of a man more schooled in God’s way. As soon as he left here, he’d pay the parson a visit.

“And here I thought you meant that you were gonna marry the first woman you saw when you left here. But then again, it just might be Bertha Boyd.”

Luke grinned and shook his head. His cousin was ornery all right, but he sure could make him chuckle.

Luke left the freight office, made his rounds through town, and headed toward the parson’s house. At the end of Main Street, a motion snagged his attention, and he stopped and leaned against a post. Rachel was sweeping her front porch, but the way her hips swayed, she could be dancing.

Suddenly what Garrett had said came to mind.
Why not marry the first woman you see?

A lump lodged in his throat. Marrying Rachel didn’t sound as distasteful as it had when he’d first returned home. Had he gotten used to seeing her? Being around her? His clothes often held her scent as if she’d held them against her chest while returning them to his home. Her tasty meals had filled his belly three times a day. But he’d once trusted her completely, and she’d stabbed him in the back in the worst way possible. How could he ever trust her again?