Chapter 2

Gideon MacNamara was a man of experience; he knew what it was to be jilted. He pushed out a heavy breath, eyeing the fleeing mop of curly, copper hair. Why was it his fiancées continually ran away from him? Literally, in this case. “I suppose I had best go discover what pressing appointment she just remembered.”

“That’d be the logical next step,” his best friend, Cade O’Brien, said.

He turned toward the startled townsfolk who were all watching him with a mixture of horror and confusion. “Pardon me,” he said. “It seems I have misplaced . . . someone.”

He hurried from the room. Arranging for a wife by way of an agency was supposed to have been easier—less dramatic, at least—than traditional methods. Yet, there he was, chasing after yet another woman who’d undertaken a very expressive matrimonial exit.

Gideon found his missing bride quickly. She stood at the edge of the street, looking frantically in both directions. She clung to her thick leather notebook the way one would to a lifeboat on a sinking ship.

“The stage depot is to the right,” he said.

She spun about, staring at him wide-eyed. It was the same panicked expression she’d worn ever since Reverend Endecott had started speaking. She’d seemed fine up until that moment. Apparently, the phrase “Dearly beloved” was more frightening than he’d realized.

“The stage has already left, though.” He watched her as he spoke, trying to piece together what had inspired her sudden objection to this arrangement. “The next one won’t come through until Tuesday.”

She took a step backward. Gideon could hear the hum of voices behind him. The wedding guests, it seemed, hadn’t been content to wait.

He lowered his voice, not wishing to make his humiliation even more public than it already was. “There are a great many people, myself included, who are quite curious to know why you changed your mind. Were you hoping for someone . . . younger? Wealthier? Not as breathtakingly handsome?” Humor had always been his shield in tense and uncomfortable situations.

She looked over her shoulder toward the empty depot, though she didn’t leave. “I’m a nurse.”

“I know. That was one of my requirements.” Marrying a woman with medical knowledge and experience had been crucial to the success of this arrangement. He needed someone who would understand the professional demands on his time, especially when it took him away from town, as well as someone who could tend to people who came by in his absence.

She paced, her fingers fussing with the leather strap wrapped around her notebook. “I came here for a job, and that”—she pointed at the schoolhouse-turned-chapel—“was a wedding.”

The pieces fell quite suddenly into place. “You didn’t know you were coming as a bride.”

“I came here for a job,” she repeated.

He’d been clear in his correspondence with the Western Women’s Bureau. They’d obviously understood the requirement about her education and expertise. They couldn’t possibly have misunderstood that he was looking for a wife. But why would an organization with a reputation to uphold mislead a client so monumentally?

“Are you certain you didn’t misunderstand?” he asked Miriam.

“I am not a simpleton.” It was a fiercer response than he’d expected.

“I didn’t say that you were.”

Mrs. Wilhite stepped away from the crowd of wedding guests and moved determinedly toward them.

“What a mess,” Gideon muttered.

Miriam’s eyes lowered. She hugged her notebook to herself, turning away from everyone.

Mrs. Wilhite stepped closer to her, worry warring with hope in her wrinkled face. “Gideon really is a wonderful person. We all love him.”

“But I don’t.”

This day kept getting better and better. “I appreciate your efforts, Mrs. Wilhite, but I don’t think this is the best way to address this difficulty.”

“But this wouldn’t be difficult if only she realized how remarkable you are.” Mrs. Wilhite always had been a very vocal supporter of his. “She should consider herself lucky to have been chosen by someone of your caliber.”

He tossed Miriam an amused glance. He was determined not to let his frustration boil over. She, however, didn’t even crack a smile.

“He did choose you, after all,” Mrs. Wilhite added with emphasis.

Miriam shook her head. “I understand that. I do. But I didn’t choose him.”

“You’re turning him down?” Mrs. Wilhite could not have sounded more shocked.

“She has every right to,” Gideon said. “No one should be forced to marry another, even if that person is shockingly handsome and disarmingly charming, as I clearly am. I realize it is difficult to believe, Mrs. Wilhite, but even my claims to being ‘wonderful’ might not appeal to every young lady.”

“But—but this was supposed to be such a happy day for you.” The poor woman looked ready to weep. Meanwhile, Miriam looked ready to run. Again.

Gideon motioned his anxious advocate aside. “I appreciate your defense of me, I truly do. But if Miss Bricks is set against the idea of marrying me, compelling her to do so will likely only make the situation worse than it already is.”

“Oh, Gideon.” Mrs. Wilhite clasped his hands with hers. “This is so horrible. We weren’t too sure of your idea to send for a wife, but everything you told us about her and how excited you were—” She sighed. “We want you to be happy.”

He kissed her wrinkled cheek. “When have you ever known me to be anything but happy?” He had learned from his father the art of appearing as though everything was grand, even when absolutely nothing was.

Mrs. Wilhite offered a tremulous smile.

He squeezed her hands. “Go tell the townsfolk to enjoy the cake and punch. There is no point letting it go to waste.”

“Oh, Gideon.” She looked near to tears. “You poor, poor man.”

He would likely hear that sentiment from everyone he encountered. Joy.

“I need to see that Miss Bricks has a place to stay and a way home,” he said.

“You are a good man.” Her eyes darted toward Miriam, who was pacing in tiny circles nearby. “Perhaps if I told her again—”

He shook his head firmly. “She has made her wishes clear. Go on back inside. And try not to worry.”

“We’ll find someone for you,” she promised.

He waved his hands in protest. “Please, don’t. I would prefer to leave this aspect of my life alone for a long while.”

She nodded, though reluctantly, and made her way back toward the schoolhouse and the crowd assembled on the front steps, watching Gideon’s humiliation play out. He summoned his best look of amusement, despite not being at all amused, and waved merrily to them. There would be fewer questions and fewer pitying looks if he hid the true extent of his frustration and disappointment.

He turned back to Miriam and willed himself to see this current predicament through to some kind of conclusion. He was tired. Tired of the unending line of problems he had to address. Tired of women deciding they’d rather not marry him. Tired of returning home to an empty house day after day.

“The hotel has vacant rooms,” he told her. “You can stay there until the stage comes through on Tuesday.”

She didn’t look at him. “I was whisked here so quickly, my trunk and traveling bag were left behind.”

Whisked here. Everyone had been extremely excited. That had made the prospect of marrying a woman he hadn’t met a little less nerve-racking. The bureau had provided him with a lot of information about Miriam. He’d been absolutely convinced they could have been as happy together as any married couple could reasonably expect to be. Happier than his parents, at least, which had been all he’d ever truly hoped for.

“I will ask after your trunk,” he said.

“That is the hotel, just there above the restaurant?” She pointed at the building sitting at the corner of the street.

“Yes.”

She didn’t wait for further discussion but moved swiftly up the road, nearly at a run. Yet another would-be bride had decided she didn’t want him. Three in a row.

Gideon let out a frustrated breath. This was not how the day was supposed to have played out. This was not how his life was supposed to have played out.