Short Straw Bride. Dallas Schulze
suit his old bones more than the biting prairie winds, Luke and Daniel had been sharing the duty, and it was Luke’s turn to make the trip.
He nodded to Chet Longman, who ran the livery stable and was also the sheriff, when Black Dog had need of such. He heard the tinny sound of a piano from the Gold Dust Saloon as he drove past and decided he’d stop by for a drink before making the long, dusty drive back to the ranch. It wasn’t much consolation for a wasted day but it was better than nothing.
They had to find another cook, he thought irritably. Or a wife. His eyes narrowed as his attention was caught by a particularly ugly hat—a familiar hat. The woman wearing it was walking briskly down the boardwalk, the skirts of her mint green dress swaying invitingly. As Luke watched, she pushed open the door of Webb’s General Store & Emporium, and Luke allowed himself a grin. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a waste of time, after all.
When her aunt Dorinda had sent her out to buy a length of linen for new towels, Eleanor had welcomed the chance to get out of the house and enjoy a walk in the spring sunshine. And going to Webb’s would give her a chance to make amends to Mr. Webb for her blatant inattention to him after church on Sunday. When Reverend Mulligan had brought the McLain brothers over to be introduced, Andrew Webb had been promptly and somewhat rudely forgotten. She couldn’t expect to draw a proposal from Mr. Webb if she ignored him just because she’d been introduced to another man. Even if that other man did happen to be the most attractive—
But that wasn’t the point, she reminded herself briskly. Even if Luke McLain was the embodiment of every girlish fantasy she’d ever had, she was no longer a girl. She was twenty now and it was time to put away childish dreams. There was no knight in shining armor to come riding out of the prairie and sweep her off to a better life. She was going to have to build that better life for herself, and Andrew Webb offered her the best hope for a new future.
So she’d put on her favorite dress, a soft green cotton that suited her coloring much better than most of Anabel’s castoffs, and she’d put on the ugly hat Mr. Webb had thought suited her. She’d wondered briefly if she could really be contemplating spending the rest of her life with a man who had such dreadful taste in millinery, but then reminded herself that there could be worse things. Like living with her aunt and uncle.
She’d spent a moment batting her eyes at her own reflection and trying to imitate Anabel’s way of looking at a man from under her lashes. But the look that was coquettish on Anabel seemed simply foolish on herself. Since Mr. Webb was looking for a mother for four small children, perhaps he’d be more impressed by common sense than coquetry. Common sense she had in abundance.
Drawing a deep breath, Eleanor pushed open the door of Webb’s. She immediately had the urge to turn and run, but the little bell over the door had already given away her presence and Andrew Webb was stepping out from behind the counter, his thin face wreathed in a smile.
“Miss Eleanor. What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”
“Mr. Webb.” Eleanor gave him her warmest smile and was pleased to see him blink and swallow hard.
“What can I help you with today?” he asked, regaining his composure.
“My aunt was hoping you’d have some good linen toweling. We’ve just finished spring cleaning and she’d like fresh towels to finish things off.”
“I have just the thing. Got it from St. Louis not two weeks ago.”
Eleanor followed him as he went to find the requested item. Looking at his scarecrow-thin figure and neatly combed sandy hair, she tried not to picture a pair of broad shoulders beneath a plain black coat and a head of deep brown hair in need of a cut.
“Best money can buy,” Andrew said proudly as he lifted a bolt of fabric onto the counter. “Your aunt won’t find any better, even if she went to Denver.”
“It looks like just what she had in mind,” Eleanor murmured. Her eyes were drawn to a bolt of royal blue grenadine. The deep, rich color would suit her coloring much better than her cousin’s castoff pastels. She reached out to finger the soft fabric, picturing it made up in a simple gown with a minimum of decoration, with perhaps just a touch of lace at the neckline and wrists to soften the severity of the cut.
“That’s much too dark a color for a young lady such as yourself, Miss Eleanor.” At Webb’s comment, she let her hand drop away from the fabric. “Something in a softer shade, perhaps. My late wife favored pinks and the softest of blues,” he said reminiscently. He seemed to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking and flushed a deep shade of red. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning my wife.”
“Not at all. It’s only natural that you think of her.”
“Yes. But life goes on and I’ve put aside my grief and am looking to the future.”
The fervent look he gave her left no doubt that he was hoping the future he looked toward included her. Looking into his watery eyes, Eleanor felt her heart sink. Was she really contemplating spending the rest of her life with this man? At most, she felt a mild liking for Andrew Webb. Could a happy marriage be built on so little?
She was saved the necessity of having to answer either him or herself by the jangle of the bell over the door. It rang again almost immediately and the harsh tones of Cora Danvers admonishing her son about something echoed through the store. Andrew jumped and blushed again, like a boy caught smoking his father’s cigars behind the privy. He glanced over Eleanor’s head toward the front of the store.
“Are you in a hurry, Miss Eleanor?”
“Not at all. Please take care of your other customers, Mr. Webb. I’ll find plenty to occupy myself.” She was relieved when he hurried back toward the front of the store. Perhaps if she didn’t have to look at him she’d be able to bolster her determination a little.
She heard Mr. Webb greet Cora Danvers, heard Cora’s son Horace offer some whined complaint, the words indistinguishable. She reached out to finger the blue grenadine again. She had a little money, but it would be wildly foolish to spend it on a bolt of cloth when she already had four dresses hanging in her room. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to wear something that suited her, she thought wistfully. In a dress like the one she’d envisioned, she wouldn’t feel like such a little dab of a female. She’d feel elegant and almost pretty. Maybe even pretty enough to draw the eye of a man as handsome as Luke McLain.
At the sound of someone approaching, she snatched her hand back from the fabric and turned, annoyed to feel herself flushing as if she were guilty of some crime. Luke McLain stood not three feet from her, and Eleanor felt her breath catch and her cheeks blush fiery red. She pressed one hand to her bosom, as if to physically still the sudden pounding of her heart.
Luke wondered why he’d thought of her as plain. The face beneath that god-awful hat was not beautiful, by any means, but it was certainly not plain. Not with those big brown eyes that made him think of a fawn and that full mouth that seemed just about made for a man to kiss. Her flush deepened and he realized he’d been staring at her without speaking.
“Miss Williams. Reverend Mulligan introduced us at church last Sunday.”
“I remember, Mr. McLain.” As if I could forget.
“A new spring dress?” he asked, gesturing to the bolt of grenadine.
“Oh, no.” She glanced guiltily at the beautiful fabric. “I’m here to buy new toweling for my aunt. We just finished spring cleaning and she wanted fresh towels.”
“Spring cleaning.” Luke remembered his mother’s annual frenzy of cleaning when every rug had to be taken out and hung on a line to have the dirt beat from it. Then fresh straw had to be spread on the floor before the rug was tacked back into place. The memory was superseded by an image of the layers of dust and dirt that covered her once tidy home, and he winced.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. McLain.”
Eleanor started to step around him and Luke saw his opportunity to talk to