Wedding Belles (2 page)

“Mm-hmm. Third time this month he’s threatened to do so, but I think he just might do it this time.”

“Nope. He ain’t jumpin’.” Lottie lay back on the grass, her gaze now on the brilliant blue sky above—what she could see of it through the overhanging trees, anyway.

“How do you know?” Gilbert’s muscled arms flexed as he slipped his hands behind his head. Not that she was looking out of the corners of her eyes or anything. That would just be wrong. Or right, depending on which angle you looked at him.

“I heard Phineas Craven say that the fish out at Lake Estes are bitin’ today. You know Jeb. He’ll never take his life if there’s a fish in the lake with his name on it.”

Gilbert chuckled. “Guess I can relax then.”

“Guess so.” She laughed.

Lottie tried not to think about how much she would love for him to sweep her into his arms but found that difficult, what with him being so close and all. She willed her racing heart to slow down.

Not that he would notice anyway. No, much like Jeb Otis, Lottie had tried seven ways from Sunday to draw the attention of the person she loved, but Gil wasn’t biting. She’d stand a better chance of catching a shark in Fall River than snagging the likes of Gilbert Parker. Maybe if she laid aside her tomboyish ways, he might give her a second glance. And perhaps donning something other than her worn-out overalls and cowboy boots might up her chances as well. Then again, if she changed too much, what would folks say? Would they think she was putting on airs, like her sister?

Patience, Lottie. Slow and steady wins the race.

Gilbert rose and brushed the dirt from the back of his pants. “Guess I’d better head back inside. Mama’s cooking up a feast tonight. Our three lodgers are going to have more than enough to eat.” He rolled his eyes, and she got the point. How many months had they longed for an influx of lodgers? Still, only a few trickled in, and they rarely stayed long.

Lottie offered an encouraging smile. “I’ll be in shortly. Can’t take much time, though, because Pa wants me home for dinner. He and Mama are more finicky about that, now that Winnie’s gone.” She sighed. Sometimes it really presented a challenge, being the last remaining child at home. Not that she viewed herself as a child, of course. Certainly not. Especially when her thoughts drifted to Gilbert, which they seemed to do a lot these days.

He took off toward the lodge, and Lottie followed him with her lingering gaze. As he disappeared from view, she turned her attention back to the mountain, her thoughts now tumbling. If she could just figure out a way to save the lodge, she might win Gilbert’s affection. What she needed was a plan, one that would pay off in dollars and cents.

No matter what it took, she would turn things around. And if she played her cards right, she might just come out of the deal with Gilbert Parker on her arm.

* * * * *

A
S
G
ILBERT MADE HIS WAY
through the clearing toward the lodge, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jeb Otis and his threat to jump off Longs Peak.

“What a windbag.”

’Course, Jeb was no different from any of the other locals who frequented the lodge’s restaurant. The men of Estes Park kept Gilbert hopping with their grumbles and complaints about the lack of women in the area. He was reaching the end of his rope. After years of listening to their “I need a good woman” speeches, he’d had enough.

Sure, they could all use a good woman. No argument there. But did he have to hear about it day and night, month after month, year after year? Besides, they weren’t the only ones pining away for a good woman. Didn’t they realize he struggled with the same feelings? Clearly they didn’t, or they wouldn’t bother him with their drama.

Drama.

The word hit him again, this time nearly knocking the breath out of him as an idea rolled through his mind. He froze in his tracks and latched onto it then gave it a thorough chew.

Drama.

At once, a full plan of action came to his mind, one that must’ve tumbled from heaven above. Yes, for only a heavenly plan could be this inspired.

“That’s it! Why didn’t I think of this before?”

Gilbert turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the river, convinced that Lottie would love this idea. Didn’t she always go along with his plans, after all? Hadn’t she been his biggest supporter thus far?

Yes, and what a great partner she’d make on this venture. Perhaps, between the two of them, they could save the lodge.

TWO

D
EVILISH
D
EEDS IN THE
D
INING
H
ALL

Folks, rumors are afloat here at the Parker Lodge, where we’re cooking up more than our usual fare in the dining hall. A clever plan is under way to draw a new crowd of tourists and locals to the lodge, one sure to garner the attention of many across the nation, particularly those with a dramatic flair. Want more details? Just ask our manager, Gilbert Parker. He will gladly give you an earful if you ask for the particulars. I dare not say more, though I will leave you with a hint: What do you get when you merge a villain, a female in distress, and a handsome hero? According to Mr. Parker, the best entertainment this side of the Rockies. —
Your friends at Parker Lodge

“W
HATEVER GAVE YOU THE IDEA
I could pull off a theatrical?”

Lottie paced the dining hall at Parker Lodge, so flustered she could hardly think straight. She stopped long enough to cast a wary glance Gilbert’s way as he took to stammering.

“Well, I, um, I…”

“I know nothing about stage plays. I don’t sing. I don’t act. I don’t dance.” She paused to stare him down. “Well, other than the kind of dances we have on Saturday nights, but that’s different. And even then I’m tripping over my two left feet.”

“I’m not asking you to perform in the show.” Gilbert cast her a fretful gaze. “Just to direct.”

“Just
to direct?” As if directing wasn’t a huge undertaking. She tried to eke out a response, but nothing sensible came to mind. He must’ve lost his mind with this latest idea of his. She’d tried to tell him so yesterday when he’d first suggested it. What was the point of today’s meeting with Jeb and the other fellas? To gang up against her, perhaps? To talk her into something she would soon regret?

“You’ve always been good at arranging things, Lottie.” He offered her a boyish pout, one that almost melted her heart. Almost.

“Sure, Lottie,” a couple of the fellas chimed in from their card table just a few yards away.

She busied herself clearing dirty dishes from one of the smaller tables in the lodge’s dining hall. “Flowers, maybe,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Social dances, even. But…a stage production? A melodrama, no less? I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.” The dirty plates clattered as she set them back down on the table.

Gilbert didn’t look at all concerned. “It’ll be great,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Might just save the lodge too. Our three lodgers are gone now, so we’re not bringing in any income at all.”

Nothing like a little pressure to offer incentive.

“Have I mentioned that we don’t even have a script?” She crossed her arms and stared at him. “You’re asking me to create something out of nothing.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got enough fodder for a thousand melodramas. You’re surrounded by characters, after all.” Gilbert pointed to the fellas—Phineas Craven, Jeb Otis, and the others, who’d stopped by the lodge for their usual Friday night card game. “Might as well take their drama to the stage, don’t you think?”

No argument there. “But no one here has any acting experience.” She wiped her hands on her dingy apron.

“Well, shore we do,” Jeb drawled as he glanced up from his cards. “I’m always actin’ up, ain’t I?”

“You’ve gotta give it to him,” Gilbert said. “He is, at that.”

She released a slow breath. “What sort of story are you talking about, anyway? Something serious? A comedy? Musical numbers? What?”

“A comedic tale about a swashbuckling hero who rids his town of evil influence,” he explained. “Something loaded with adventure and the spirit of the West. The hero would have to be genuinely good, of course. And handsome. Someone the ladies in the audience could swoon over.” He squared his shoulders, and a couple of the fellas laughed.

“Our melodrama also has to have females in distress,” Jeb threw in from his spot at the table. “Purty ones.”

“And someone who wants to take over the town,” Phineas added. “Them shows always have someone wantin’ to take over the town. A real villainous sort a’ fella to keep the audience on the edge of their seats. That’ll do the trick.”

“Better add a couple of gals with questionable reputations.” Augie Miller raked his fingers through his thinning wisps of hair. “That’ll up the ante. And there’s nothing better than a show with its ante upped.” He paused and then laughed. “Not sure that came out right.”

Chauncy James glanced over the top of his cards, his whiskery mustache twitching. “While you’re adding characters, you’d better throw in a saloon owner.”

“True,” Jeb said. “Wouldn’t be much of a show without a saloon and purty dancin’ gurls, least to my way of thinkin’.”

Lottie plopped down in a chair. “Heroes? Damsels in distress? Saloons?” She paused to think through this proposition. “Fellas, you know how I feel about drinking and such. If we set part of the story in a saloon, we’ll have to be very careful not to romanticize that way of living. Perhaps that could play into the plot. I do like the idea of a hero who saves the town.”

“A handsome hero,” Gilbert said.

“All right, handsome.” She paused. “Let’s say we actually come up with a story idea. And let’s say some of you fellas agree to take on parts in this—this…melodrama. Where in the world are you gonna find women willing to play saloon girls and the like? I can guarantee you, the ladies in the Women’s League won’t be interested.”

“Yes, but that’s the best part.” Gilbert beamed. “We’re going to bring in ladies from all over the state.” His eyes widened and his voice grew intense. “All over the country, even. Why, we could advertise all the way from Denver to Broadway. Actresses would come to audition for the best roles.”

“W–what?” Surely he had lost his mind. “Why, pray tell, would they come at all?” Lottie asked. “There’s nothing to draw them to Estes Park. Besides the scenery, that is. And the fresh mountain air. Certainly nothing to do with stage plays.”

“That’s the part we need you to figure out,” Phineas said. “Don’t figure you’ll let us down, since you care so much about us and all.” His gray-blue eyes twinkled, and he flashed a crooked-toothed smile. “’Course, these belles from the East have to be in good health with a decent mouthful of teeth, ’cause we plan to marry ’em.”

“W–what?” Lottie rose. “Is—is that what you all have in mind? I’m to bring these women here under the guise of acting in a stage play, when they’re really coming as potential brides?” Suddenly it all made sense.

“Don’t get your dander up, Lottie,” Gilbert said. “No one’s going to force them to marry anyone. Or to stay, for that matter.”

“For more than six months, anyway,” Jeb added as he rose from the card table to join them. “We’ll get ’em to sign a contract to stay that long.”

“A contract? For six months?” Maddening thoughts rushed through her head. “But in six months, winter will set in. They couldn’t get down the mountain to Loveland if they wanted to.”

“Exactly.” The men spoke in unison.

She shook her head as realization set in. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not pulling me into this ridiculous scheme of yours. I won’t do it.”

“You’re not being reasonable, Lottie,” Gilbert said. “What if they come and the show is a rousing success? Not only will they want to stay through the winter, they’re liable to want to stay indefinitely. How can it be considered scheming when we’re just looking to offer them new opportunities and a possible chance at happiness?”

“Let’s go with another possibility.” She fussed with her apron strings, frustration setting in. “What if the show is a dismal failure? What if we bring all these women from places unknown to put on the most ridiculous production folks have ever seen? What if we keep them here through the winter when they’re snowed in and feeling blue? What if we can’t hold rehearsals because of the weather? What if we have the show and no one comes? These are the things we should be discussing, fellas. Why? Because we’re talking about using real actresses here. They’ll know the difference between a professional production and a thrown-together parlor show.” She yanked off her apron and slung it over the back of a chair before taking a seat.

“That’s why it’s got to be spectacular.” Gilbert rested his hand on Lottie’s shoulder. “I know you can pull this off. You were always one for telling fancy stories when we were kids. Remember all the tall tales you used to come up with? Some were real spine tinglers. Others left me laughing so hard I could scarcely catch my breath. You have a God-given gift for storytelling and might as well use it to benefit the lodge.” He gave her a little pout. “Please? For me?”

She paused to think through his words, realizing he hadn’t strayed far from the truth. She had been quite a storyteller, back in her day. Still, he’d missed the point. Those stories didn’t involve real people, especially not women coming from all over the country. But how could she turn him down when he looked at her with such pleading?

“It’s one thing to make up children’s stories and another thing altogether to write a play. I—I don’t think I have it in me.”

At this, all the fellas released a collective sigh.

“Well, shoot.” Jeb reached for his worn Stetson and fingered the brim. “There goes my chance for happiness. Guess I’ll have to head back up to Longs Peak, after all. If you’uns find my body after I jump, would you do me the favor of buryin’ me in my brown shirt and Levis? No point in fancyin’ up to meet my Maker. He probably wouldn’t recognize me in a suit.”

Lottie did her best not to groan aloud.

Gilbert sat in the chair next to her, leaning in so close she could scarcely breathe for wanting to slap him. Or kiss him. Right now, she couldn’t decide which one made more sense.