Want Ad Wedding. Cheryl St.John

Three

      Daniel’s last sip went down the wrong way and he choked. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Me? I don’t think so.”

      “Why not? You don’t have dead bodies in your basement. You aren’t a lawman, so your life isn’t at risk. You don’t have an old father to take care of and you don’t scratch your neck all the time.” Noah listed all the reasons for which Daniel had just rejected the last husbands under consideration. “She knows you. She is fond of you, am I right?”

      “She’s fond of him,” Will supplied. “She tucked her arm right into his and chatted with him all the way to the boardinghouse.”

      “That doesn’t mean she’d want to marry me.”

      His friends raised their eyebrows at Daniel’s ardent objection.

      “She doesn’t see me like that. Never has.”

      He’d thought of nothing but that walk to the boardinghouse, about the delicate curve of her cheek and the sweep of her lashes. She was still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. She’d been wearing her pale hair caught up on her head, but he remembered it curling around her shoulders as a girl. Leah had always been full of life. She’d ridden with them, run alongside the riverbank barefoot, practiced shooting at tin cans and held her own.

      Some nights during the war while he’d been sleeping on the ground in the cold and rain, he’d dreamed of seeing the sun glint from her hair as it had that afternoon. He’d heard the sound of her full-throated laughter that turned his insides to warm honey. And then he’d awaken and the present would grasp him in its cold, unforgiving fingers. The notion that she was here in Cowboy Creek now, looking for a man to marry, tied him in knots.

      Will tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire and it hissed. “You’re one of the three wealthiest men in Cowboy Creek, probably in all of Kansas.”

      “I wouldn’t want her to marry me for my money.”

      “You’re reasonably handsome. To a woman,” Noah added.

      Daniel signified his annoyance with a snort.

      “You already have a house ready and waiting for a wife,” Will said. “Don’t try to say you didn’t build that house with a woman in mind. You want a wife. She needs a husband. You can help establish her in town.”

      “That seems so...” Swallowing hard, Daniel sat with elbows on his knees and rubbed his chin. “Calculated. Impersonal.”

      “Any marriage she makes now will be calculated,” Noah pointed out. “And marrying you is more personal than marrying a stranger. You’re already friends.”

      To her they were friends. To him she was the woman who had always been just out of his reach. This idea seemed like a backhanded way of fulfilling his boyish dreams. But the war had changed him. He was no longer the naïve, lovelorn boy he’d once been.

      “Who else do you trust with Leah?” Will asked.

      Daniel scraped a knuckle on his jaw as he thought. No one. He didn’t trust anyone with her welfare...her future. Nor did he want her marrying another man. “I’d...” He stopped short and considered. “I’d have to propose to her. Court her.” He glanced up and regarded the two men. “Would I have to court her?”

      Will grinned.

      He would have to swallow his pride to ask her to marry him. And even if he did, there was no guarantee she’d have him. “What if she won’t have me?”

      “If she won’t have you, then I’ll court her,” Noah said. Which told them all how profoundly he believed Leah would marry Daniel. “Let her decide for herself.”

      He would do it. He would ask Leah to marry him. He would lay out all the reasons why he was the best choice. And then he’d let her decide.

      Daniel felt something more than he’d felt for a long time. He didn’t want to let himself think of Leah in the big house he’d built on Lincoln Boulevard just yet. He didn’t want to picture her in the rooms he’d walked through when the house was a mere shell, before burnished flooring, paint and fixtures had made it a home. He’d always had a faceless woman in mind. As he’d surveyed the land and overseen construction he’d planned that one day he’d share the home with a wife. But Leah’s image, with her bright blue eyes and soft pale hair, was all he could envision now. He had his doubts about the wisdom of this decision, but along with his reluctance he felt more than he’d felt in a long time.

      He felt hope.

      * * *

      Leah woke early and ate breakfast in Aunt Mae’s dining room with the other brides and the full-time boarders. Gus Russell had stark white hair and still stood straight. The lines at the corners of his wise dark eyes were evidence of his years in the sun. “Cowboy Creek got a windfall when you young gals showed up,” he said.

      Old Horace wore his long gray hair pulled back with a leather thong. He had been tall in his day and was still lean, but his back was hunched so he was always looking up. “Why if I’d a knowed these fillies would be so purdy, I mighta got a haircut and throwed my hat in the ring.”

      “Wouldn’t any of these young ladies want a dried-up old coot like you,” Gus countered.

      Old Horace bristled. “I still got my charm. Down in Mexico I was quite a ladies’ man.”

      Gus stabbed a piece of sausage from a platter. “The Mexican War was over twenty years ago and you were an old man then.”

      “Did you fight for the annexation of Texas?” Hannah asked.

      “For two years,” Horace replied.

      “Mr. Gardner is showing me the church this morning,” Reverend Taggart said to his daughter. “I thought you might like to join us.”

      “If you don’t mind, I’m still tired from the trip,” she answered. “Is it all right with you if I rest this morning?”

      “That’s perfectly fine,” her father replied. “You rest. I imagine you’ll want to check out available locations for your shop when you’re up to it.”

      She gave him an affectionate smile. Hannah was a talented seamstress and made all of her own clothing.

      Leah cast her a curious glance. “You’re planning a shop?”

      Hannah nodded. “I’ve always wanted to have my own dressmaking establishment. This place seems like the perfect opportunity, with new businesses cropping up everywhere and more women arriving. I might not have many customers at first, but I’m sure business will flourish as the town grows.”

      Which reminded Leah of her own plans for the morning. She was going to visit the newspaper about an advertisement. “The newspaper office is right next door to us here, isn’t it?” she asked.

      “I’m heading there right after breakfast,” Prudence replied. She wore a plain brown dress, with her ever-present cameo at her throat.

      “We might as well walk over together then,” Leah suggested.

      “Actually I went late yesterday, too,” Prudence said. “I got a position.”

      “My, my, isn’t that news?” Aunt Mae exclaimed. “What if you get a husband who lives outside town, dear?”

      Prudence glanced at the others around the table. “I will choose one who either lives in town or nearby.”

      Old Horace squinted at her. “Do you have newspaper experience?”

      “D.B.—er, Mr. Burrows has assured me my help is quite welcome.”

      “Perhaps Mr. Burrows is in the market for a wife,” Aunt Mae added with a wry lift of one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

      Prudence pursed her lips in exasperation. “I don’t think so.”

      “Well,