Want Ad Wedding. Cheryl St.John
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from the ground up, but four women were a paltry drop in the bucket. His gaze moved from D.B. Burrows, owner and editor of The Herald, his angular face rapt with serious intent as he scribbled notes, over dozens of other bystanders, before finally landing on a sunburned young drover who sported a stiff new pair of dungarees, a red shirt and a silly crooked-toothed grin. Right about now Daniel was imagining the reactions of those much-anticipated prospective brides when they stepped off the train and got their first look at this throng of menfolk starved for the sight of a woman.
“Well, this is it.” Beside him, Will Canfield squinted from beneath the brim of his brown felt bowler and leaned a little more heavily than usual on his expensive Italian-made walking stick. He wore a tailored suit coat and starched white shirt. Tall and lean, his goatee neatly trimmed as always, he was the picture of a gentleman with his sights set on a public office. Only Daniel noticed his friend was favoring his left leg, because only Daniel knew the walking stick was not purely for show. He was also relatively sure it did not conceal a derringer or a knife as was rumored about Cowboy Creek. They’d both had enough of killing during the war to last them a lifetime. Their town was populated with peace-loving citizens, eager for a new slice of life and the profits the Union Pacific Railroad and a steady stream of Texas longhorns were bringing. Women would heighten their plans to a whole new level.
“This is it,” Daniel echoed. He wanted the past behind him. The town needed order, and these females would help bring it. Cowboy Creek was providing a new life and a fresh start for a good many people. The whistle screamed again. He checked his pocket watch and tucked it back inside his suit coat. “Right on time.” He looked to each side and held out both arms. “Step back! Step back and give the passengers room to get off the train!”
His voice held enough authority that the eager men shuffled to the rear of the platform.
The great black locomotive hissed as the brakes were applied, and it slowed on its approach, trundling past the railroad office east of the station and coming to a halt with the passenger cars only feet from the wooden platform. Clouds of steam expressed vapor into the air. From the exit closest to them, a uniformed conductor jumped down, lowered the stairs with a squeak of metal and stood waiting.
Passengers were visible inside the car, making their way to the exit and out onto the small metal platform. Anticipation hummed around him. The first to appear was a fellow in a brown pinstripe suit and a derby, followed by a white-haired gentleman with a huge mustache. A man and his young son emerged next. Passengers disembarked from the rear of the car, and a second passenger car spilled its riders, as well. The impatient townsmen crowded around the people exiting the train until the platform became a blur of shoulders and hats. Hoots and appreciative calls blended with laughter and good-natured competition.
Daniel and Will exchanged a tense glance. Had they thought of everything?
“We started with only four brides, Dan,” Will said. “Next time we’ll be better prepared for the rush of bachelors.”
“Or not announce the brides’ arrival,” Daniel replied in a grim tone. He scanned the area until he spotted a stack of crates, then pushed his way through the milling crowd and climbed to the top. With two fingers held strategically between his lips, he let out an ear-piercing whistle. He whistled again. “May I have your attention?” he shouted.
The crowd quieted and heads turned.
“Gentlemen, please make a path and escort our brides forward!”
A smattering of applause followed his request, and from the outer edge of the platform the crowd parted unevenly, allowing three figures in ruffles and flower-bedecked hats to make their way through the gathering to the stack of crates. Daniel jumped down beside Will and they stood on either side of the group of ladies.
Daniel removed his hat and every cowboy doffed his own. “Welcome to Cowboy Creek.” He glanced aside. “We’re still missing someone.”
“Mrs. Swann was with us a moment ago,” the petite young woman beside him said. “She must have become lost in the crowd somewhere.”
Will took the next initiative. “Welcome. I’m Will Canfield. And this is my friend Daniel Gardner.”
Daniel noted Will deliberately wasn’t leaning on his walking stick while attention focused on him.
“Cowboy Creek is pleased you’re here,” Daniel told the new arrivals. “We have a special welcome planned for you once we have everyone accounted for and can move away from the station.”
“I’m Pippa Neely.” The flamboyant little gal with ginger-gold hair had enormous hazel eyes and a pert smile. She wore a voluminous lavender skirt with gold braid designs down the front and fringe around the hem of the jacket. Atop her head bobbed a brown satin bow with a lavender paper rose. “I thought we’d never arrive! What a grueling journey!”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Neely,” Daniel greeted her. In her letter to the town council, Pippa had described herself as an actress. Then he turned politely to the lady standing next to her.
“I’m Hannah Taggart,” the young woman explained. She wore her fawn-colored hair severely pulled away from her face. Her gray eyes moved uneasily from Daniel to the crowd of men and back. She wore a wine-colored dress with puffy fabric at the elbows and over the bustle, ruffles everywhere, but with no ornamentation save the row of buttons at her neck. She was a tall girl, not slender, and Daniel imagined her choice in clothing added to her size.
“Miss Taggart,” he said. “You’re the Reverend Taggart’s daughter.”
She smiled easily. “He was right behind us a moment ago.” She glanced into the crowd. “Disembarking was a challenge, but no doubt we all feel welcome.”
“The men are a bit overzealous,” Daniel said by way of apology. “I’m sure you’ll forgive their excitement.”
“Prudence Haywood, Mr. Gardner.” The short curvy woman introduced herself with a curt nod. She had auburn hair, hazel eyes and wore a cameo brooch on her collar.
Daniel and Will acknowledged her introduction.
“Here’s my father!” Hannah announced.
The beaming fellow approached and removed his hat to shake the hands of both men. “Reverend Taggart,” Daniel said. “We’re so pleased you’re here.”
“It’s Virgil,” the reverend said, his friendly manner a welcome answer for the unspoken question of what sort of preacher might be coming their way. He sported a narrow mustache and a wide smile that creased the corners of his eyes. “Hannah and I are excited to be here right when your town is on the verge of a population explosion.”
“Can’t bring women to this county without preachers and doctors and schools,” Daniel pointed out. “We’ve been planning this for some time. We have a lot to show you.”
“I look forward to hearing all about it.”
“Papa, where is Mrs. Swann?”
“She was by my side only a few minutes ago. These Kansas fellows seem quite friendly and eager to meet the ladies.” He stood on tiptoe to survey the way he’d come, but the crowd had closed back around the temporary opening. “There she is. I see her hat.”
“Let the lady through!” Daniel called, standing as tall as he could manage and peering above the crowd. He was thinking that perhaps he would need to get back on the stack of crates when he spotted a blue feathered hat on a pale gold head of hair. “There she is. Mrs. Swann! Let her through.”
The poor woman steadied her wisp of a hat atop her head with one white-gloved hand, and turned this way and that, speaking to men as she choreographed her way through the crowd. When she finally neared the open clearing where Daniel and Will stood with the other newcomers, she turned, disengaging herself from the attentions of an overeager cowboy, and nearly stumbled forward.
Daniel caught her elbow to steady her.
“Oh! Thank you. This is quite a reception!”