Chapter 3

Do you think this dress is too ostentatious for tonight?” Josie stood in front of the small mirror in her hotel room. She turned and looked at her anxious reflection from a different angle. “I want to make a good impression, but I don’t want to draw too much attention.”

Ruth’s laugh was muffled as she knelt beside Josie’s trunk, her blond head buried beneath the lid. “I think the time to worry about drawing too much attention has come and gone—aha! Here they are.” Ruth stood with a triumphant smile on her face and a pair of white gloves in her hand. In her quest to find the gloves, she had strewn dresses, petticoats, and hats about the room, until Josie could barely discern where the bed, rocking chair, and dresser stood.

Josie pinched her cheeks for color and then inspected her dark hair in the mirror. Ruth had split it down the middle and combed it over her ears in puffs then gathered it in the back in ringlets. Every glossy strand was in place. She touched the pearl comb just above the ringlets, her palms sweaty. “What will I do if no one shows up?”

“I don’t think that will be your problem.” Ruth helped Josie put on her gloves and clucked her tongue. “I wish you had eaten something earlier. You’ll need your strength.”

How could she eat when her entire future depended on this one pursuit? She had less than two days to find a husband. The stagecoach only left Little Falls once a week—if she wasn’t on it in two days, she would miss the steamboat back to St. Louis and wouldn’t arrive in time to see the judge.

She needed to find a husband to gain control of her life. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Ruth stood back and admired Josie. “I think you’re ready.”

Was she? Josie gripped the doorknob and took a steadying breath. Every inch of her body shook, and her corset strings pinched. What if she fainted?

Ruth gently pushed aside Josie’s hand and opened the door. “You’ll do fine. God isn’t surprised by this turn of events. If He brought you here, He’ll be faithful to complete the work He began. Just trust Him to bring the right man to the ballroom tonight. You might be surprised with His plans.”

Josie offered Ruth a tremulous smile. She wasn’t contemplating a happy ending—but could that be part of God’s plan? It didn’t seem likely, though a bit of hope tried to take root in her heart.

They stepped out into the long, narrow hallway, their footsteps echoing across the pine board floors. Fading daylight filtered into the corridor from a single window at the end of the hall.

Josie reached out and squeezed Ruth’s thin hand. “Remind me to give you a big Christmas bonus.”

Ruth squeezed back, her voice teasing: “I will.”

They descended the open staircase and entered the hotel lobby. White wainscoting circled the large lobby and ran down the long hallway to the back of the hotel. A matching counter filled one corner of the room, while potted ferns sat in the opposite corner near a floral sofa.

The hotel proprietor, Mr. Churchill, stood behind the counter. His face lit with a grin when he saw them. “Good evening, ladies. I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”

It had not been pleasant waiting for this inevitable event, but Josie smiled. “Thank you. Are the parlors ready?” She had asked Mr. Churchill to reserve two parlors. One she would use to interview the prospective grooms, while the other would be for the men waiting to meet with her.

Mr. Churchill lifted his chin, as if to nod, and then he stopped. “Actually, there has been a change of plans.”

A change of plans? “But I must have two rooms this evening.”

“Oh, you will.” Mr. Churchill squeezed out from behind the counter, his large belly making the task difficult. “The men are waiting in the ballroom.”

“The ballroom?”

The front door opened and a group of six men entered, their boisterous conversation filling the lobby. “We’re here for the little lady,” one of them said to Mr. Churchill. He stopped when he saw Josie and Ruth, color filling his cheeks.

“Make your way to the ballroom, gents.” Mr. Churchill rocked on his heels and grinned. “You’ll find refreshments on the table.”

Josie watched with wide eyes as the men sauntered into the ballroom, tossing glances her way. In the few seconds the door stood open, she glimpsed inside—and swallowed the horror.

Josie’s hand went to her throat. “How many men are in there?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Mr. Churchill rubbed his balding head. “I’d say there are at least a hundred, and they’re still coming in.”

The front door opened again, and another group of men entered. Mr. Churchill pointed them in the direction of the ballroom, and they slipped inside.

“A—a hundred?” Josie became light-headed. “How will I interview a hundred men?”

Mr. Churchill lifted his meaty palms and shrugged. “I’ll keep the refreshments you requested coming, so don’t you worry about that.”

How much would it cost to feed over a hundred hungry men all evening?

Josie opened her mouth to protest, but the clock behind the counter chimed seven times.

“I’m right here beside you, Miss Josie.” Ruth patted her arm. “You’ll be fine.”

Josie walked toward the ballroom. Sweat broke out on her brow and her dress felt heavy against her weak knees.

She opened the doors slowly.

Rowdy noise filled the ballroom and greeted Josie as she faced the men, all of them talking and laughing at once. Tall mirrors lined one wall of the room, reflecting the yellow walls and large chandeliers overhead. Light from the bright wall sconces made the room feel overly hot and stuffy. Josie licked her dry lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of water.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room, assessing her prospects. There were short men and tall men. Heavy men and thin men. Some were dressed in gentlemen’s clothing, with ties and top hats, while others were dressed in grubby clothes that looked as if they hadn’t seen soap in months. There were young men, with barely a whisker on their chin, and old men with beards down to their chest.

And all at once, every one of them turned their attention to Josie and Ruth.

Silence invaded the room—but then someone sent up a caterwaul, and the entire room burst out in cheers and foot stomping.

“Make way for the pretty ladies!” shouted the man with bright red hair who had been at the company store earlier. He pushed the crowd back, and the men made a clear path for Josie and Ruth.

This was what Moses must have felt watching the Red Sea part before him.

Josie forced her legs to move, and the entire room quieted again as she and Ruth walked to the front. They climbed the stairs until they stood on the stage, and then faced the room.

Over one hundred men stared back.

Now what? Where would she start? How did one go about such things?

“What’re your names?” one of the men asked from the back of the room.

A chorus of voices repeated the question.

Josie’s voice came out weak. “My name is Miss Josette LeBlanc, and this is my maid, Miss Ruth Hubbard.”

“Is the maid up for grabs, too?” shouted a man close to the stage.

Ruth crossed her arms and shook her head, silencing the man.

“I’m the only one seeking a husband,” Josie said.

“Well then, let’s get on with it!” another man yelled.

Josie turned to Ruth. “Where do I begin?”

Ruth looked uncertain. “I don’t know.”

“What’s all the fuss about?” A woman suddenly appeared at the ballroom doors, her deep voice sounding more like a man’s. She quickly scanned the room and locked eyes with Josie. Without another word, she pushed through the crowd and climbed onto the stage. “Are you the one responsible for this circus?”

Josie took a step back.

The woman stood with her hands on her ample hips and her dark hair puffed out at the sides. She stared at Josie. “Well?”

“I–I’ve come to answer the ad for brides.”

The lady threw her arms up. “Heaven help us. Until now, I thought I’d seen it all.” She shook her head. “When I heard someone had answered that ridiculous ad, I rushed right over here to see for myself.”

Would this lady try to stop Josie? Panic crept in at the thought. There wasn’t enough time to go somewhere else.

“It looks like you’re going to need some help, Miss …”

“LeBlanc,” Josie said. “And who are you?”

“I’m Mrs. Cordelia Foreman. My husband and I were the second settlers in this town, and we care a great deal about what happens here.” Mrs. Foreman turned to the men and they all stared at her, as if everyone knew exactly who she was … and maybe feared her, just a bit.

“First things first, gentlemen. Anyone over fifty years old—and under twenty—there’s the door. Use it. The rest of you separate yourselves into groups by age. We’ll do this thing up right, or we won’t do it at all.”

Josie could have collapsed in relief, but the sensation soon disappeared as she assessed the ragtag group of men. Was her husband among them?