She woke early. It was still dark and a quick glance at her watch showed her it was right before five. She dressed hurriedly and made her way to the washroom again. Afterwards she sat on the seat, now back in its original configuration, waiting for the others to waken. She lifted the blind and smiled as she watched rolling green hills rush past and the sun peeking over the hills, little fingers of rose and gold lighting the darker edges of the sky.
Eventually the entire car was awake and moving. She drew her curtain, grabbed her purse and went to the dining car to get some breakfast.
She was seated at a small table for two and, to her relief, nobody was seated with her. She ate well but a sharp eye on her budget. She had a single egg, two strips of bacon, a glass of juice and two slices of toast as well as a cup of coffee. The gentleman at the table next to her was busy tucking into a stack of wheat cakes drowned in syrup and she found herself wishing she’d ordered them instead.
Her heart pounded. She was on her way to be married to a man she had never seen and only knew through a few letters. It was foolish. It was beyond foolish.
Well, if things did not work out she had a way out. Her fingers went back to her purse. A ranch in Montana. It sounded like heaven, sheer heaven. Clean air and open spaces.
Best of all, no factories or organizers stirring up trouble. No reason to run past lines of angry people who threw things at her just because she wanted—and needed—to work.
Her heart flipped in her chest. Anxiety floated up. She was far from there but that did not mean she’d left all the fear behind. She’d spent weeks after that terrible day hiding out in a cheap boarding house, rarely going out. She’d rushed out early in the mornings to buy a newspaper and to stock up on food she didn’t have to heat and ate sparingly. She’d slept even less. Her heartbreak was so huge she could hardly process it but her fear was even greater and it took precedence. She’d listened to the other boarders move around their dim and dusty rooms and she’d wept for hours and hours, trying to think of a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into.
It was another boarder who’d given her the idea. Her name was also Megan, and she had the room next to the one she had been hiding out in. She had been promised as a mail-order bride to a man in Montana, and she was supposed to go but she’d fallen madly in love with some dashing young man who worked there in the city and she was desperate to marry him despite her not wanting to go against her own word and break some poor man’s heart.
Megan had gathered her courage, knocked on that woman’s door and introduced herself. It turned out that the other Megan had taken the money for the train ticket and not bought a ticket, and was unwilling to release the money either as her beau swore he could turn that money into a stake in some kind of business that would get them ahead for a long time. Megan had enough for her fare so the other Megan happily passed over the letters, the contract and washed her hands of the whole thing to skip off with the man she’d fallen for while Megan had gone to buy a train ticket.
It had been a perfect storm of coincidence or maybe fate but either way it was a decision she had made, and now she had to live with it no matter how it turned out.
Megan sipped her tea, forcing those thoughts away. She was going to have to start thinking more about where she was going, and less about where she had been if she was going to have any chance at all.
*****
The train continued its run.
The days and nights blended together. Megan discovered that many people drew their curtains around midday and took naps after lunch. She had always been a hard worker, ever since she had gotten her first job at the age of eleven she had worked hard and the indolence seemed strange but she soon discovered that once the novelty of the train wore off and her books were both read she was easily bored. The naps kept her from growing irritated and cramped, and what was more they helped her healthy young body to recover from the weeks of not sleeping that had come before.
The Horror of it all had begun to fade and as they headed further north then west she found herself delighted by the long expanses of open sky and the mountains, the waving fields of grass and the occasional small town. The cattle moving across their path also delighted her and she found herself hoping again. She’d lost hope, and she hadn’t known how much hope that had been until she felt the first stirrings of it coming back into her heart.
But along with hope came worry. The man she was to marry—she’d never met him. She’d been terrified of such a prospect, what if he was old or even homely?
She’d answered that question firmly by telling herself, You know it isn’t the look of a man that matters, it’s the character of a man that makes all the difference.
That was true. But Megan was nineteen and while she knew she was never going to be considered a great beauty by city standards she was not homely nor even very plain. Being married to a man who was far older or even homely was not something she hoped for. But if that was how it was, she would still be grateful.
Besides, if he was cruel or terrible to be with she had an escape plan. Her eyes went back to her purse and, like it always did, her heart squeezed with pain. So many people had been hurt! Oh if only...
Well there was no help for it now. She hadn’t been to blame for what had happened but she still felt a huge burden of guilt over it all.
The train pulled into the station early in the morning. The sky hung crisp and blue with just a few clouds pleated along the top of the mountain range, right above a few granite peaks.
The picture was breathtaking. The air, so clean and fresh, hit her lungs and expanded them. Her eyes widened as she studied the small town spread out around the station: dry goods stores and a few grain silos, a small hotel and a salon. A restaurant and a livery and stables.
“Megan?”
The voice was deep and rich, low and smoky. It sent a thrill right up along her spine. She turned, her hand coming up to her chest. The plain dark-blue coat she wore over her pink shirtwaist and pink and blue checked dress was thin but the sun was warm on her face.
Megan sincerely hoped that the man who was looking back at her would assume that the flush on her face was simply from the sun, and not from pleasure.
He was handsome. No, beyond handsome. Tall and straight, broad of shoulder and lean of hip and flat at the waist and belly. His denim pants and thick flannel shirt emphasized every angle and turn of his body and piercing blue eyes looked out at her from under straight golden eyebrows. He swept the straw-colored hat off his head and she caught sight of a thick but well-cut thatch of honey-and-gold hued hair above a tanned face that featured chiseled cheekbones and thin but pleasant lips.
“Yes.” Her voice gave out. She blinked a few times. He put the hat back on then extended a hand. “Charles Devlin. Your fiancé.”
Fiancé. Her mouth opened and closed and she managed a little squeak, cleared her throat and grabbed his hand pumping it up and down rather vigorously. His hand was warm and strong. More heat filled her cheeks. She realized she was yanking his arm wildly and dropped her hand.
“Um...yes. Why, how nice to meet you. My luggage is right there. I hope I haven’t brought too little. Or too much. I...” she stopped talking. Against his slow drawling tones her New York City accent seemed harsh and heavy. She winced and took a deep breath. “Please forgive me. I’m a bit nervous.”
He chuckled. Little dimples flashed in his cheeks, making him even more handsome than before. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of those dimples and even white teeth flashing behind his lips.
“Well that makes two of us.”
His words took her by surprise. She’d rather imagined he would be cockier than that. His smile was infectious and her heart fluttered again. He said, “My buggy’s over there. I brought the sturdier one because I wasn’t sure of how much luggage you might have.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful. The whole place is wonderful, isn’t it?”
Her eyes went back to the sky and the flocks of birds arching against it. Her little laugh held wonder. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!”
“The sky in New York isn’t so pretty?”
“I’m sure it is ,if you can get a glimpse of it.” Her shoulders sagged. “There’s a lot of smoke and coal fog and buildings in the way though.”
He laughed and reached for her luggage. “Well you won’t find any of that here I’m afraid. Coal smoke, yes, but the buildings—heck the towns are pretty far apart.”
He took her luggage to the buggy and asked, “Have you eaten?”
She nodded. “I have but if you haven’t...”
“No, I’m all good.” He drew a pair of thick leather gloves over his wonderfully strong hands then helped her into the buggy. He swung up into the buggy, clicked at the horses and gave them a gentle slap with the reins.
They were off, walking sedately across the beaten down path in the tall grass. She watched insects and a lone rabbit jump up out of the grass and her heart caught in her throat.
It was splendid. Something in her had always hated the dim and dingy city and now that she was out there, under that big bowl of sky, she was ecstatic to find that her entire being was responding to the place.
Charles spoke. “Since the weather’s so warm and the horses are fresh, I stopped the night in town, I think we can make it all the way into the ranch tonight. The sun won’t fall early like it does in the winter so we have at least four or five more hours of sunlight than we would have if you’d come in spring or winter.”
“Are the winters here very harsh?”
He nodded. “I won’t lie to you, they can be brutal.”
“Is the house snug?”
“Absolutely.”
That relieved her mind. They rode past a few scattered houses and she looked at the cattle grazing. “Does everyone have cattle?”
“Most do. It’s hard to farm here because of the seasons being so short. The house gardens grow well, but it would be hard to have a large farm and make money out here.”
“I see.” She watched the cows moving along slowly. “What’s that on their sides?”
“A brand. We have to know whose cattle is whose. There are some rustlers out there but we don’t have many, or at least we didn’t. There’s been more of that lately though.”
“Rustlers?”
“Cattle thieves.”
“Oh.” A shiver raced through her. “How does someone steal a whole cow? They’re fairly large. They must be hard to smuggle out beneath a coat.”
Charles roared with laughter. “I’d say so. Unfortunately because cattle graze afar they can often get separated from the herd. Rustlers have ways of cutting them off from the herd then they drive them onward and elsewhere.”
Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. “I see. That happens a lot?”
“More than we’d like but we try to keep the cattle safe. Too many die at the hands of rustlers. They want only to drive them to the closest market and so they don’t give them time to rest or eat or drink. It’s one thing to slaughter cattle humanely and another to drive them to their deaths that way and all for a bit of profit.”
She had to agree with that. “I see. So, how did you become a cattle rancher?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought I told you that in the letter.”
Dang it. “You did. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
His body leaned into hers as they went around a steep curve. “Oh. Well my cousin Thom and his family came out here from Texas. We had cattle in Texas, my side of the family, but our main thing was farming. Everyone thinks Texas is some giant desert and there are parts of it that are very arid, but much of it is very lush and green too. We had a few problems with the outlaw gangs there though. Where our farm was, it sat right near the borders of some big towns and it was close enough to Mexico that the outlaws—who go there to escape justice—were always riding through.”
A gasp escaped her lips. “Weren’t you frightened?”
He nodded, “I was a boy then. Just twelve. My folks knew they had to do something so they decided to come out here. And we’ve never regretted it. You know what else?”
“What?”
A grin tugged at his lips. “I didn’t tell you in the letters because I was worried you might think I was odd. My cousin, Thom, his wife is a mail-order bride. Cecily. You’ll like her. Anyway when she came out is when I got the idea. I was serious when I said most of the women around here are either not old enough to marry or related to my family somehow but...well when he wed Cecily it was like she brought something new and different with her and it was a good thing.”
“That’s not odd. I like the idea that I could bring something to this place.” She did like that idea. She liked it very much.
The mountains receded behind them and they talked of all manner of things. Megan felt, honestly, that she could talk to him for hours. He was good company. He knew the names of all the birds that flew overhead, and he knew lots of interesting things too.
They both liked to read, and they both liked blueberry pie better than any other kind. They liked each other too, and a heavy weight slid off her shoulders as they wended their way further into the high and grassy plains.
Charles stopped shortly after noon to let the horses rest. Megan had never been around horses and she was delighted when Charles taught her how to tether them to a metal stake and give them a small amount of oats and barley to go along with the tender grasses they munched at happily.
He’d had the restaurant pack a cold lunch and they took it on the banks of the small stream. The lunch was delicious, tongue sandwiches made with fresh bread and spicy mustard, boiled potatoes and carrots, and boiled eggs with salt. There was even pie—thick slices of apple pie mantled in a creamy layer of mild yellow cheese.
After they had eaten they walked along the side of the stream for a bit, stretching their legs.
Bees droned and insects buzzed. Megan leaned against a tree and asked, “Are there many people in Montana?”
Charles shook his head. “Not really but there’s plenty of people near the ranch. You’ll be staying with Cecily and Thom during the days before we wed. I hope that is all right.”
“It’s fine. Better than fine, and thank you.” She lifted her head to the sun and let it caress her face. She lifted her arms over her head and smiled at the shadow she cast.
He kissed her. It was unexpected, that kiss. He brushed against her as he retrieved his hat and the next thing she knew she was in his arms and his firm warm lips were on hers.
That kiss, chaste as it was, robbed her of her senses. There’s been men who’d wanted to kiss her, certainly. She’d been a young woman alone and on her own in a large city, but she’d never wanted to kiss any of them. Something had told her that they weren’t the men for her.
Charles’ kiss was wonderful. It was exactly what she had dreamed her first kiss would be like.
He stepped back. His face wore a look of surprise. He said, “Well I sure didn’t plan that but I can’t say I’m sorry. I do hope you aren’t mad at me though.”
“No.” A little laugh escaped her mouth. “Not at all.”
She helped him again with the horses, taking pride and pleasure in learning a new task. He helped her up onto the buggy and flicked the reins. They set off again, turning sharply toward the grassy fields again. “Is it so divided? Montana I mean? The mountains to the west and grass to the east?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, it is. The hardest folks live in the mountains.. They hear there’s much in the mountains, and there is, but it is a hard life up that way. I wouldn’t want to live there.”
The day lengthened. Megan took a brief nap wholly by accident and woke up to find that her head had lolled over onto his strong shoulder. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
He gave her a smile. “I didn’t mind.”
She hadn’t minded either. When she’d woken up the feel of his strong shoulder below her cheek had been comforting.
He said, “Do you need a little stretch?”
Would he kiss her again? She said yes and not just because she was hoping for a kiss but because her back and bottom had begun to rebel at the journey’s long and torturous hours.