Twice Promised (The Blue Willow Brides Book #2): A Novel (2 page)

Knowing they had only a little time left on the train before reaching Central City, Greta turned her attention to her open Bible, her sister Catharine’s parting gift before Greta left Cheyenne. It had belonged to Catharine, and their mother before that. Greta remembered her sister’s words before she left: “Greta, you take Mother’s Bible—I want you to have it. Remember to let it guide all that you do. And remember us when you read—it can be the connection we have when we’re apart, until we meet again.”

A newspaper clipping fell into her lap, and Greta carefully opened the folded paper, now browning with age. She recognized it—Peter’s ad that Catharine had responded to when they were still in Holland and thoroughly adrift as to their future. Catharine must have forgotten she’d placed it there. She’d read it to Greta and Anna a dozen times, and now its creases were worn through with use. Greta remembered how God had been faithful to Catharine, Anna, and herself, providing Catharine a good husband and a fine home for all of them. It was a good life . . . for a while.

Lord, what’s in store for me now? No one but Bryan will ever hold my heart . . . but at least here, deep in the mountains, I won’t hear the constant howl of the prairie winds.
It was enough to drive a person mad, to her way of thinking. She wondered how terrible it must have been for Bryan. Had he been in pain as he lay dying on the windswept prairie? She shuddered to think about him suffering at all, and prayed that his death had been swift like the ambush. Sorrow flooded her heart for what could’ve been.

She slipped her own mail-order-bride ad from the Bible and ran her gloved finger over the name at the bottom: Jess Gifford. That name was one of the reasons she’d answered the ad in the first place. Could it be that Jess was related to Bryan? Perhaps a distant cousin? She sighed. Probably just a coincidence . . . but there might be a slim chance. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out. Now she regretted that she and Bryan hadn’t talked more about his family. She smiled. The stolen moments together had been so short. Most of it had been spent kissing and planning their future, not talking about their pasts.

Greta folded the piece of paper, tucked it into the book of Psalms, and tried to read. When the conductor announced they were nearing their destination, she gathered her things together from her seat in readiness to disembark the train into this fresh, new world.

The engine puffed and ground to a screeching stop, allowing the handful of passengers to make their way toward the depot. The wiry conductor reached up and grabbed her carpetbag, set it down on the depot’s wooden platform, and took Greta’s hand to assist her down the metal steps. “The rest of your bags will be unloaded momentarily, miss.”

Feeling suddenly adrift, Greta stood numbly off to the side next to her carpetbag and scanned the platform, expecting Jess Gifford to step forward for her. Maybe he was delayed but would show up any moment. She adjusted her cape, then stepped over to a nearby bench to wait, ignoring the open stares of men about the rough-hewn depot. Mercy! The raw mining town was filled with miners, trappers, and merchants milling about. She observed the constant movement on the busy streets from where she sat.

Only moments later, she was joined by the lady who had sat across from her on the train. “May I sit here with you?” Her large brown eyes seemed kind, but she looked unsure while she waited for Greta’s response.

“
Hallo
.
Alstublieft!
Of course!” Greta noticed the finely etched cheekbones and smooth olive complexion, framed by dark brown hair that peeked from her fashionable hat, and thought again how very pretty the woman was. As the lady bent to place her bag next to her feet, the long feather from her hat tickled Greta’s cheek. Greta giggled.

“I’m sorry.” The lady smiled, then took a seat on the bench and extended her hand. “I’m Cora Johnson.”

“I’m Greta Olsen,” she said as she took Cora’s outstretched hand. “Are you waiting for someone?”

A flash of concern crossed Cora’s face. “As a matter of fact, I am. And you? Are you visiting someone or moving here?” Cora folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Greta smiled. “You’re not. I . . . I’ve answered an ad for a mail-order bride.” She swallowed nervously. “But I see no one has arrived to pick me up, so I thought I’d just sit here a few minutes to wait. Apparently Jess Gifford is delayed.” Greta tapped her foot as she looked out over the boardwalk, hoping he would appear soon. She was tired but anxious to meet the intriguing man she’d been corresponding with.

“Did you say
Jess
?” Cora raised an eyebrow with a bewildered look.

“Yes.” Greta turned sideways to face her. “Jess Gifford. Do you know him? Tell me what you know. I’m as nervous as a cat crossing a busy street—”

Cora huffed, then straightened her skirts without looking at Greta.

“Is something wrong, Miss Johnson?”

Cora’s face turned pink. Clearing her throat, she lifted her gaze and let out a deep breath, but before she could reply, a tall cowboy swaggered toward them, bowing slightly as he lifted his hat. His brown hair was matted around his head where his hat had been. He smiled broadly at them.

“I’m here to pick up Jess’s mail-order brides,” he said. He twirled his Stetson in his hand.

The ladies rose simultaneously. “I’m Greta Olsen, his mail-order bride. I thought Jess was to meet me. Who are you?” Greta asked, her hands on her hips. Had she heard him right? Did he say
brides
?

“Begging your pardon,
I’m
Mr. Gifford’s mail-order bride.” Cora whirled, glaring at Greta, her dark eyes snapping as her ladylike composure suddenly became a thing of the past.

“There must be some mistake. I thought you said
brides
, but there can be only one bride!” Greta ignored Cora’s glare and faced the good-looking cowboy. He’d better have a good explanation for this. She hadn’t traveled all the way here to be made a fool of.

“I’m Zach Gifford, Jess’s brother, and . . . er, you did hear me right. I did say
brides
.” He donned his hat, then reached for their bags, lifting one in each hand.

“There must be some terrible mistake!” Cora folded her hands across her chest. “A man can’t have two brides. Not to mention it’s illegal! This is ridiculous! And I’ll not stand for it!”

“Nor will I!” Greta reached for her bag, but Zach held on to it. “Where is this Mr. Gifford?”

Zach held Greta’s eyes for a moment. “If you ladies will give me a chance, I can explain everything, but we can’t stand here squabbling in the street, now can we? I’ll take you for an early supper and we’ll talk.”

When the two ladies looked at each other doubtfully, he leaned back on his boot heels and quickly added, “Besides, that was the last train today, so you have nowhere else to go.”

Zach’s brown eyes glinted with a dash of fire. Greta wanted to slap the silly grin right off his face but instead mustered up the courage to consider his plan. After all, it was late, and what other options did she have? She knew no one in this town. “You’re right about that, Mr. Gifford—”

“Please, everyone calls me Zach. Now let’s go rustle up a good supper over at Mabel’s. Then I’ll see that you both get settled for the evening.” He started walking away. With a glance over his shoulder, he nodded at them to follow.

Cora shrugged. “I suppose we have no choice until we find out what this fiasco is all about.”

“
Goed.
Okay. But I’m not one bit happy about it!” Greta followed the lanky cowboy, whose boots caused puffs of dust to rise in the street.

Cora, with a sour look on her pretty face, tossed her head so that the feather in her hat bobbed. “And you think I am?”

Fifteen minutes later, after Zach had collected the rest of their luggage and loaded it into his buckboard, they were seated in a cheerful diner down the street from the train depot. His stomach growled at the smell of food, and he realized how hungry he was. He’d been so busy at the store that he’d been late meeting the train. He ordered steak and gravy for everyone, then turned his attention to the anxious ladies. Each was pretty in her own sort of way. Greta was a tall blonde with a creamy complexion and large blue eyes. Cora, a little shorter than Greta, had dark hair and exotic, deep-set brown eyes with eyebrows that arched gracefully. Two ladies who could be the devil to reckon with if crossed. Which of course, he had just done. As they awaited his explanation, he wondered where to start.

He cleared his throat and decided to plunge right in. “I know that you’re both very angry with me at the moment, but I hope you’ll hear me out.” He set his hat on the chair next to him and looked directly across the table at the two mail-order brides. “I didn’t set out to dupe you, but I wanted you to care about my brother for my own selfish reasons. You see, my brother’s business took off like a steam engine when the miners descended on Central City on their way to the gold and silver deep in the mountains. I’ve been working right alongside him, but I have other things I’m interested in besides running a general store.”

“And what has that got to do with us, pray tell?” Greta clearly was getting impatient. “Does he need two wives to help him run his store?”

Zach grinned. She really didn’t mince her words, but he liked her straightforwardness. “No, but he could use more help. I’m afraid he’s a bit unorganized and doesn’t do well with keeping track of orders, or ordering things, for that matter. He complains but says he has no time for a wife because he’s too busy, and she would need more attention than he could afford to give.” He paused, watching their attentive faces. They seemed to be two totally opposite women, but that could be a good thing, couldn’t it? It might make it easier for Jess to choose. “So I actually wrote those letters. I took it upon myself to correspond with you two lovely ladies seeking husbands in hopes that one of you might fit the bill as a wife for my lonely brother.”

“You mean Jess doesn’t know?” Greta sputtered, almost knocking over her water glass.

“We’re not
things
you can just order up and amuse yourself with for your own purposes,” Cora snapped. “Your letters were quite convincing—which leads me to believe you must have a wife yourself.”

“Actually, I’m not married. I’ve courted a few nice ladies, but I’m not considering marriage right now. But this is not about me.” Zach would have to tread carefully or things might not go as he planned. “I know what’s good for my brother.”

Greta gave Zach a hard look. “Cora’s right. Now we both have arrived to marry a man who doesn’t even know we exist!”

Cora looked over at Greta. “I say we leave on the first train back to Denver tomorrow.”

Greta’s rosy lips pursed in an angry line. “You may be right, but I don’t want to go back to Wyoming and deal with the humiliation of it all. I can’t speak for you, Cora.”

Zach ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Then you may as well stay here. Accommodations are scarce at the moment, I’m afraid. I’ll put you up in a cabin for now, and you can decide how you feel tomorrow about my plan.”

“And what plan is that?” Greta shot him a disparaging look.

“I’ll introduce you to my brother as mail-order brides seeking husbands, who want to work in the general store. That’ll give you both ample time to get to know him, and he can decide between the two of you.”

Greta laughed. “Oh, I get it. He’s supposed to fall in love with one of us just like that!” She snapped her fingers.

“Well . . . yes . . . as a matter of fact, I think he could. Both of you are stunning. Any man would jump at the chance.” Zach leaned back in his chair.

“Just imagine that, Greta. We’ve been duped into falling for an imaginary love.” Cora shook her head and sighed. “And I thought I’d found a man I could love. I should’ve known better.”

The waiter appeared, placed three heaping platefuls of food before them, and refilled their water glasses. Greta looked across the table at Zach. “Well, I have no fantasy of love. I was looking for a change of scenery and maybe someone I could care about, but love . . . well, that’s a different story altogether.”

Cora’s eyebrows shot upward, but Zach didn’t question her about her hopes. Whatever they were, they were her private affair. Still, she might grow to love Jess. It could happen. Or . . . His gaze traveled to Cora. Maybe his brother would favor Cora’s dark beauty.

“What do you say, ladies? Are you willing to give my plan consideration? Let’s say in three weeks, if either of you hate it here or don’t take a shine to Jess, then I’ll pay your train fare back home.” Greta groaned and Cora winced. “Or to wherever you’d like to travel.”

“As far as Holland?” Greta chuckled, then took a deep breath and looked at him evenly. “Maybe it won’t be all that bad. What do you think, Cora? Shall we stay here and see what develops?”

Zach held his breath. Surely one of these pretty ladies could be Jess’s bride. Or had he made a huge mistake?

Cora dabbed her mouth with her napkin and then laid it next to her plate. “I don’t relish going back to Denver, true—but you owe us an apology for toying with our hearts. I’m not sure about Greta, but I developed deep feelings for Jess through those letters, even if he didn’t write them.”