Rancher Wants a Wife. Kate Bridges

family at a young age upon the death of his parents, had always been labeled the black sheep. Her father had believed it, emphatically pointing out the young man’s disobedience to his aunt and uncle, his frequent brawls and his argumentative nature.

      Cassandra’s misjudgment of Jack had come to light the night he’d left Chicago. Hours too late to apologize to him.

      But here they had a second chance.

      Dressed in her tattered nightgown, Cassandra lifted the hot iron she’d ordered from the front desk, and pressed it upon the limp lace of her wedding gown. Although the dress was thirdhand, passed down to her from Mrs. Pepik at the boarding house, Cassandra adored it. She gingerly ironed the collar and tended to the small creases beneath the bust.

      At the thought of all her dear friends in Chicago, her chest ached with emptiness.

      Everything here seemed so solitary.

      She wished her sister were here to help her prepare for the wedding. She wished her father would be here tomorrow to walk her down the aisle. She wished she had a single friend in this town. Most fervently of all, she wished that Jack McColton had swept her up in his arms and kissed her as if she meant something to him.

      With a catch in her throat, she set the iron aside. It was getting cool, and the ironing was finished. As practical as she was, Cassandra knew she’d better get some sleep tonight. But if she did have a true friend in this town, they would have spent the night talking, sharing thoughts about Chicago and what this new community was all about.

      Instead, Cassandra finished the sandwiches she’d ordered from the kitchen, packed her luggage, gave her faded leather shoes a polish, and said a prayer for tomorrow.

      When the sun beamed through her windows in the morning, she was awake and ready. She dressed in her casual clothes, dined by herself for breakfast and took a stroll down the boardwalk, ignoring the curious glances of strangers. Eventually she bought a newspaper and brought it back to the room.

      In the afternoon, she read every article and advertisement. She paid particular attention to the Help Wanted section, news of a robbery on the San Francisco rail line, ads for the law offices, and properties for sale. There were lots of things people could hire her for—including searching for lost relatives, preparing documents to present to lawyers, helping to recover stolen property, and possibly uncovering criminal activity.

      When the time neared, she brushed her hair, twisted ribbons through the blond strands and braided it to one side. She donned her corset, slipped into her stockings and garter, and stepped into her wedding gown.

      There was only a tiny oval mirror nailed to the wall, just big enough to see her face, so she wasn’t able to get a full view of herself in her wedding finery.

      Perhaps she should have procured a veil of some sort to drape across her face. She sighed, hoping Jack would overlook her imperfections. Not many men would accept her as a bride. She respected Jack McColton for his strong sense of honor and his desire to marry her despite her flaws, and prayed that it would be enough when it came time to spend the night together.

      She looked down at the white fabric cascading over her hips. Everything seemed to be in order.

      The gown had a high waistline, cinched beneath her breasts, a plunging neckline offset by a half collar at the back, puffy sleeves and a very long train. Cassandra carefully picked up the swirly back end and slipped the elegant loop over her finger to hold the train off the ground. Her shoes weren’t new—black stiletto boots with tiny leather buttons, the only good pair she owned—but they gave her a nice height.

      She twirled with pleasure, and her hemlines brushed nicely over her ankles.

      The knock on her door came at precisely quarter to the hour of six. When she opened it, Mr. and Mrs. Dunleigh were standing there in formal attire.

      “My dear, you look beautiful.” Mrs. Dunleigh gave her a tender smile, and Cassandra felt more appreciated in that one simple act of kindness than she had all day.

      “Thank you.”

      The heavyset Mr. Dunleigh, more reserved than his wife, nodded at her scuffed luggage. “May I take your bags? There’s a man outside waiting to take them to the ranch.”

      “Yes, please.” Cassandra had repacked her pistol, bullets and books, and now welcomed the help. She looked at her wild roses. “I nearly forgot about a bridal bouquet. These will do.” She picked up the bundle of roses, dried off the stems and wrapped the moist ends in a blue lace handkerchief. She wondered if Jack had imagined when he’d given them to her that she’d be carrying them down the aisle.

      Ten minutes later, they were walking to the church. It was only a few blocks from the hotel, but even so, Cassandra attracted lots of attention. Shop owners peered out of their windows, a man sweeping the boardwalk stopped to stare, people on horseback craned their necks and a small child grabbed at her mother’s skirts and pointed.

      The church on the corner was covered with clapboard. A tall steeple rose above it, shaded by redwoods.

      “There has to be some mistake,” said Cassandra, drawing nearer and noticing all sorts of buggies lined up along the street. “We’re having a small ceremony. Just a few people. Maybe this is the wrong church.”

      “No mistake.” Mr. Dunleigh said matter-of-factly. “This is the correct location.”

      Mrs. Dunleigh leaned over to whisper, “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dr. McColton today. I heard him inviting everyone, whatever friends happened by the ranch. Said he should’ve announced the wedding weeks ago....”

      Cassandra moaned softly. Had Jack assumed that she wanted a large ceremony because of her comment yesterday that he hadn’t told many people about their impending nuptials? It was kind of him to think of her...but this wasn’t what she’d meant. These were strangers to her, and would only increase her jitteriness.

      “Come along, miss,” Mr. Dunleigh urged. “We’ll go through the side door and leave you with Reverend Darcy.”

      “Leave me? Oh, no, please,” said Cassandra.

      Husband and wife turned to her. The housekeeper’s spectacles slid to the bottom of her nose as she peered down at Cassandra. “Yes, what is it?”

      “Mrs. Dunleigh, surely you’ll understand, but may I borrow your husband, please? My father’s not here, and I feel awkward asking a stranger. But it would mean the world to me if Mr. Dunleigh could stand beside me and walk me down the aisle.” Cassandra’s mouth went dry as she peered at the gentleman. “Please, Mr. Dunleigh.”

      His wife pulled a hanky from her long sleeve and sniffled into it. “Of course, my dear, we wouldn’t have it any other way.” She gave a pointed look to her husband, who didn’t appear to be convinced.

      His eyebrows were raised as he deliberated. When he hesitated too long, he was reprimanded by his wife. “Yes, of course,” she prodded, “he’d cherish the moment. Wouldn’t you, dear?”

      “Absolutely,” he said with a simple nod. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but was gentlemanly about the matter.

      Mrs. Dunleigh entered the front of the church. Cassandra and Mr. Dunleigh took the side stairs and stepped into the alcove at the back. Reverend Darcy, with short gray hair and a long black robe and collar, greeted her kindly. “Good evening. Welcome, welcome, lass.”

      He gave her instructions on how they’d begin, then quickly departed. Cassandra stood nervously beside Mr. Dunleigh in the alcove. Judging by the shuffling of feet and amount of murmuring behind the wall, it sounded like a packed congregation.

      When the pianist began “Here Comes the Bride,” Cassandra placed her hand on Mr. Dunleigh’s elbow and came out of hiding.

      Up at the altar, Jack turned.

      He looked splendidly handsome in a formal black tailcoat and blue cravat. His black hair caught the light cascading from an arched window, and the corners of his mouth lifted upward