Bay City Belle. Shirley Kennedy

were growing up, Ronnie was the good little boy, a parents’ joy, so well behaved he’d never been spanked. Whereas Yancy could still feel the sting of the birch rod on his backside, delivered by his fuming father. Why can’t you be more like your brother?

      Yancy tucked the letter back in the pouch, flicked the reins, and touched his heels to the horse’s flanks. Father was gone now, but maybe, if he was looking down from heaven, he’d be thinking his unruly younger son turned out better than he figured. At least when the war started, he hadn’t hightailed it to California like Ronald did. At least he stood and fought for what he believed in. For four endless, agonizing years he’d stood and fought. Come to think of it, maybe Ronald was the smart one after all, getting himself rich in the Golden State while his brother dodged mini-balls, ate unspeakable grub, held dying comrades in his arms.

      He hoped Mother was all right. She deserved the best, and if Ronald could give it to her, then fine. In fact, he wished his brother all the luck in the world. He wouldn’t be going to California, though. Not now, not ever. All he wanted was to live by himself in the wilderness, away from the world and all its suffering, until he died.

      * * * *

      Looking back, Belle couldn’t remember much about the excursion to the riverfront. She knew she’d done her best to act normal for the children’s sake but had gone around in kind of a daze, all numb inside, so shocked at Victoria’s words she could barely function. When they returned home, she pleaded a headache and retired to her room. That way, she wouldn’t have to go through a charade at dinner, pretending to be her usual cheerful self while hiding her anguish. Instead, she would visit Bridger. Only he could understand the terrible hurt that kept welling within her.

      He frowned when he saw her. “You look awful. What happened?”

      “Oh, Bridge…” She sank to the chair by his bed and related how she’d accidentally overheard Victoria and her devastating words. “Of course, I had no idea she felt that way. If I had known…” She swallowed the sob that rose in her throat and threw up her hands in despair. “I’m so hurt. She should have told me. What am I going to do?”

      Bridger handed her a handkerchief. “First off, you can blow your nose.”

      With the trace of a smile, she did as she was told. “Then what do I do?”

      “What do you think?”

      “Nothing, I suppose. Victoria needn’t know I overheard. I’ll go on as before, only I won’t be so involved with the children. But I love them so much....” For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut, on the verge of tears again. “I wish Mother were here.”

      “Well, she’s not. If you want the truth, you’re better off without her.”

      She stared at him amazed. “How could you say such a thing?”

      “Don’t get me wrong.” He shoved himself up on the pillow, wincing as he did so. “She was a wonderful mother, best in the world, and I miss her more than you’ll ever know. But she ran your life, Belle. You never had to think for yourself. Mother had a rule for everything. All you had to do was follow along and you were fine.”

      “Well, she’s gone now, and I’m thinking for myself.”

      “No, you’re not. You’re still the little girl who follows Mama’s rules. Sorry. You should see the look on your face. It’s true, though. You still follow what she taught you. Be polite. Don’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Keep your opinions to yourself because you don’t want to offend anybody.” He tilted his head back and gave her a piercing gaze. “And always be aware of what other people think because that’s how you should live your life—according to what other people think about you.”

      She stared at him wide eyed. “I’m absolutely mortified. Is that your opinion of me?”

      “Yes. But you should also keep in mind that you’re my wonderful little sister, and I love you more than words can say. It’s just… I worry about you. You’re withering away here. You need a life of your own, but you’re too afraid ever to break away.”

      “You mean I should be like Allegra? Answer that stupid ad?”

      “That’s exactly what I mean.”

      “I can’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I’ve never been alone. The very thought of traveling across the country by myself is terrifying. I couldn’t do it.”

      “Understandable. Far as I know, you’ve never been any place by yourself.”

      “I suppose I haven’t. When I grew up, Nanny never let me out of her sight, rest her soul. Now I’ve got Weldon to drive me around. I couldn’t hitch up a horse if my life depended on it.”

      “Spoiled rotten.”

      “You’re right, I am.”

      “But not entirely. When I look beyond all those ruffles and bows, I see a woman who’s made of sterner stuff.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes, really. When the Yankees were here, and we were starving, you got out and hustled and found us something to eat.”

      Her spirits rose. Nothing meant more to her than her cynical brother’s rare praise. “So you honestly think I could travel clear across the country by myself?”

      “Why not? You know I’ve got money saved up. I’ll give you the return fare, so if you don’t like whoever you finally choose, then you can just come home.”

      She couldn’t think what to answer, had to take a moment to absorb his startling offer. Up to now, Allegra—the Matrimonial News—the ad—had been nothing more than a trivial topic of conversation that provided a laugh or two. But now? “That’s awfully kind of you, Bridge. Honestly, I don’t think I’m up to actually doing it, but I’ll give it some thought.”

      “Which means you won’t. Come on. You won’t be committing yourself if you at least write to the man.”

      Victoria’s words kept echoing in her head: She’s stolen my children away from me. “I love my sister. Nothing she could say or do would ever change that.”

      “Of course.”

      “But then I keep thinking, how can I stay, knowing how she really feels?”

      “Look at it this way. What have you got to lose?”

      “Nothing, I suppose.” Up to that moment, she hadn’t given a thought to actually becoming a mail-order bride. It had seemed such a totally outlandish idea. What would the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy say? She could only imagine the scorn and ridicule they’d heap upon her head if she did such a thing. On the other hand…

      She hated to admit it, but Allegra was right. You can talk all you want about loyalty to our glorious dead, but that won’t warm my bed at night.

      And it wouldn’t warm hers, either. “I’d need a copy of the Matrimonial News.”

      “You can’t ask Allegra?”

      “Are you joking? Certainly not.”

      “Not a problem. I’ll ask Weldon to get you a copy.”

      “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

      Bridger grinned. “Of course not.”

      * * * *

      Yancy peered into the near-empty bag of flour and frowned. Time for another trip to town, a prospect he disliked more than ever. Not only had Mrs. Pierce stepped up her relentless crusade to entice him to one of her church dances, the last time he went, another letter from Ronald awaited him. Mother wasn’t well, he wrote yet again. Really? Knowing his brother’s tendency to exaggerate, he didn’t believe it. Last time he saw her she was fine.

      He’d go to town tomorrow. Today he’d go fishing, maybe catch a salmon from