A Bride for Donnigan

Chapter Nine

Adjustments Begin

Kathleen had stopped to take a deep breath before disembarking from the stagecoach. Her heart was thumping and her hands felt sweaty. She straightened her bargain bonnet on her dark curls and smoothed the nearly new gloves over her small hands. Her whole outfit had been purchased in Boston as part of the “passage deal.” It was simple and inexpensive, but it was new. Kathleen was grateful for that. Her own patched wardrobe had been painfully inadequate.

Now as she paused at the top of the steps and brushed the dust and wrinkles from her skirts, she took one more deep breath. Please, she begged whoever was “in charge,” Please let him be Irish.

There was a little cluster before her when she stepped out. For a minute she stopped and squinted into the harsh afternoon sun, letting her eyes adjust from the dark interior of the stage.

There was Erma, already smiling confidently at a short, well-dressed, bespectacled gentleman who stood with his watch still in his hand as though he were timing something. “Surely he’s not,” Kathleen murmured under her breath, then quickly switched to, “He must be Mr. Stein.” The gentleman was well into his forties, she guessed.

Kathleen’s eyes shifted quickly to the other little man who was bustling about, thumping his hat against his leg and grinning rather ridiculously. The stern Risa stood frowning at him—and Kathleen judged that she was looking at another “match.” The man was rather ill-kept, but his hair was slicked down and his face shining from a morning scrubbing. Kathleen judged him to be even a bit older than Mr. Stein.

“But I don’t see Donnigan,” she whispered to herself, and a stab of fear shot through her. Had there been a mistake? Had Mr. Jenks sent her all this long way out west with the name of a man who didn’t really exist—just for spite?

Then her eyes looked beyond the two couples and she saw another man. Tall and broad and blond—and looking pained and worried. For a moment she thought she was looking at the very man Erma had described to her on board ship. Surely—surely this was Erma’s intended. But no. Erma was already paired.

“Sure now, and he’s a—a giant,” Kathleen mused, her feet refusing to move farther. Just as she thought of turning and retreating to the safety of the stagecoach, the man looked up, seemed to realize who she was, and smiled. In that one warm, nervous smile, Kathleen saw a reflection of her own feelings. She managed a tentative smile in return—and then he was moving toward her with confidence and more grace than she would have expected from such a large man. Kathleen stepped forward to meet him. One thought was uppermost in her mind. He’s not Irish—and that’s the truth of it.

Lucas had made arrangements for them all to take tea together at his hotel. “We need to get acquainted,” he’d said calmly to Wallis and Donnigan, and the two men had nodded in agreement. Donnigan had been glad to let Lucas take charge.

Now Lucas cleared his throat, nodded his head to Will, one of his hired hands, and offered his arm to Erma, who accepted it with a slight flushing of her round, dimpling cheeks.

“You must be weary. All of you,” said Lucas, letting his glance take in the three women. “It’s a long, tiring trip. We will take tea at the hotel.”

Donnigan noticed that he didn’t say “my hotel,” though he could have. Lucas already owned half the little town.

Wallis, who still hadn’t put his hat back on his head, self-consciously stuck an elbow out in the direction of Risa. She appeared not to notice.

Donnigan turned to Kathleen. She looked so tiny. So frail. So very young. His immediate instincts were to protect her. He reached to place his hand under her elbow to guide her across the roughness of the town’s main street. She shouldn’t be in the West, he found himself thinking. It’s too harsh. Too rugged. She’ll—she’ll—

But she interrupted his thoughts. “Sure now, and I’m glad to be back on my own two feet.” Then Kathleen bit her lip, remembering that men do not like chattering women.

He couldn’t help but grin. Her accent was so thick that he had to concentrate to catch the words. She sure did talk cute.

He did have presence of mind enough to offer, “How long have you been traveling?”

It was Kathleen’s turn to strain to untangle the strange-sounding words. My, he had an odd accent. She had never heard one speak in that manner before. He sure wasn’t Irish.

She shook her head. She still felt nervous—almost to the point of being giddy, but she controlled her voice the best she could and replied softly, “I’m not sure.” The “r” seemed to roll on her tongue. “It seems forever. The ship—then the train—then this here fancy cart.” She nodded her head back in the direction of the stage, and Donnigan would have laughed except he saw the seriousness in her little face.

They reached the hotel and followed Lucas, who led the way with Erma. Donnigan could see the eyes of the three women carefully scanning the interior. It was really quite a nice hotel for such a small town. But then, Lucas did everything in splendid fashion.

The little side room was especially ornate. Donnigan found himself wondering if Lucas had carefully redone it for just this occasion. He heard Erma exclaim “Oh, my!” as her eyes surveyed the room and a smile deepened the dimples.

Risa slyly took in the room in one quick glance, and Donnigan wondered if he hadn’t seen her eyes light up briefly.

But it was Kathleen who captured his attention. He heard her quick intake of breath and saw her dark eyes widen as they quickly scanned the room. Pleasure and wonder seemed to eminate from her very being. Some word escaped her lips, though he wasn’t able to catch it because of her heavy accent.

She likes pretty things, he observed, and it pleased him. Then he thought of his own plain cabin. Certainly there were no plush draperies, brocaded settees, ornate wallpapers, or thick carpets there. Stirrings of concern tightened his throat again.

But Lucas was inviting them to the linened table and nodding toward the side door to a waiter who stood ready to give the signal to the kitchen staff.

Donnigan was surprised by the whole affair. He had thought he knew Lucas. Now he realized that he really did not. It became clear that the man had class far more befitting an eastern city than their little town. He was refined, gentlemanly, almost suave. He sure must have been studying his books or practicing somewhere, Donnigan observed silently. He sure didn’t learn all this around here.

The truth was, unknown to any of the town folk, Lucas had spent considerable time in careful research and preparation for the event. And he had practiced, night after night, in his own suite of rooms until he felt he would be totally comfortable in his new role.

Wallis, Donnigan’s closest neighbor and friend, suddenly stood out as crude, cocky, and terribly unsophisticated. His lack of refinement had never bothered Donnigan before, but now as he watched him stumbling his way clumsily through a simple, rather feminine ritual like afternoon tea, Donnigan couldn’t help but wonder what Wallis’s Risa was thinking.

But to Donnigan’s further surprise, the three ladies at the table seemed just a bit nervous and unsure as well.

Perhaps they are just tired out, he thought to himself.

“I’m sure our American customs are a bit primitive compared to your European ways,” Lucas observed with a smile, “but for today will you grant us the privilege of serving you? In the future, you may serve the tea.”

That eased some of the tension around the table. Lucas took over the duties of both host and hostess, and the women seemed to relax.

Lucas tried to draw out his guests, addressing each of the women by turn. Donnigan noticed that Erma answered rather easily, dimpling with each reply. Kathleen spoke when spoken to, but her answers were brief and to the point and her words heavily accented. Donnigan observed Wallis frown and wondered if the man had understood one word of what Kathleen had said.

But it was Risa who had very little to say. Her brief replies were curt, choppy, and with no feeling. She, too, had an accent. Perhaps German—or Dutch—or Russian. Donnigan really had no idea. But every time the woman made even a small comment, Wallis grinned as though she had just made a standing-ovation public address.

It was a leisurely teatime, and Donnigan was thankful to Lucas for arranging it. It had helped to break the ice. Perhaps they would all feel just a bit more comfortable with one another. But Donnigan also knew—Lucas had made it clear—that once tea was over, the other two men were on their own.

Lucas had frowned when Donnigan informed him earlier that morning that he wanted two rooms in his hotel. Two rooms. One the best that he had.

Donnigan had flushed, then hurried on to explain. “I figure she—she has a right to one night to think it over—make sure she still—”

Lucas had nodded then. But he still seemed to feel that Donnigan was taking unnecessary precautions.

“I’ve arranged with the parson for a seven o’clock wedding,” Lucas replied. “Then we’ll take dinner in my rooms.”

Yes, Donnigan thought, I’m sure you have everything carefully and neatly arranged.

Now as Donnigan glanced around the table, a strange idea occurred to him. What if Lucas had been hitched with Risa? The mental picture almost made Donnigan chuckle. He shifted his big booted feet under the table and tried with effort to wipe the grin from his face before anyone noticed it. But it sure would have been funny—Lucas trying to teach the straight-backed Risa to jump through his hoops.

Donnigan’s glance slid back to Erma. Her round cheeks dimpled and her eyes sparkled with trust as she listened intently to whatever Lucas was saying to her. Yes. It appeared that Lucas would have no trouble with Erma.

But what was he doing thinking of the other two men? What would he do with Kathleen? Again Donnigan shifted uneasily. It was a perplexing consideration.

Kathleen was awed by the splendor of the town’s one hotel. She had never been in a hotel before except for the one in Boston—and it had been rather old and stodgy and stale-smelling. And the girls had all been crowded on cots in a few airless rooms with single dingy windows that looked out on a dirty back alley. Kathleen had not been impressed—but she figured that’s how hotels were.

But this hotel was like—was like a rich man’s castle, a king’s tara, Kathleen concluded—though she had never been in the likes of those either.

She was concerned by the white linen on the table. What if she spilled something? She was confused by the square of white linen near her plate. What was she to do with it? Unsettled by the fine china that looked as if it would break at her touch. Alarmed by the row of forks, knives, and spoons. Why would anyone ever need so many just to take tea?

And when the tea trays promptly arrived, Kathleen gasped. She had never seen so many dainty sandwiches, iced cakes, and fancy tidbits. She didn’t know where to start—so she watched Lucas, who began the proceedings by passing the “proper” item to Erma and unobtrusively indicating the piece of silver that was needed. By following the flushed Erma, Kathleen felt that she could not go too far astray. She began to relax and enjoy the afternoon repast. Like the others, she was hungry. Their fare had been simple and scant for the entire journey.

As she savored the tasty food, Kathleen almost—almost but not quite—forgot the big man who sat beside her. Under other circumstances she would have been very aware of his presence. In fact, she marveled that the food took so much of her attention. In her need for nourishment, she even found herself thinking, If this is America, I like it.

But as her appetite was appeased, she found her thoughts returning to other things. Things like wedding vows. Strangers. Separation from Erma. Family back home. Suddenly Kathleen lost her appreciation for the food. Her stomach tied in knots. She pushed her plate back slightly as though she couldn’t stand the thought of one more bite.

She cast a glance around the table. Lucas was still talking engagingly with Erma, who listened in rapt attention.

“—my living quarters are right here in the hotel,” Kathleen heard him say, and then he quickly added, “I do hope that you don’t find the arrangement disagreeable.”

“Oh no,” dimpled Erma. “It’s most—most—pleasant.” And her eyes scanned the room again as her cheeks flushed.

Kathleen found her eyes following Erma’s. Wouldn’t it be a wonder to live in a place like this, she found herself thinking.

Kathleen shifted her eyes to Wallis, who ate the sandwiches as though he’d been near starving. One patched elbow rested on the white tablecloth so the hand wouldn’t have so far to go to reach the mouth. Kathleen noticed that he had pressed two of the dainty sandwiches together so they would make a more worthwhile mouthful.

Risa sat stiffly beside him. Even her tightly secured bun at the nape of her neck looked offended by the man beside her.

Donnigan sat too close to her for her to see his face. But she surprised herself by realizing that already she had it memorized. She could visualize the intense blue eyes, his most outstanding feature in her way of thinking, the straight nose, the tanned cheeks—one bearing a small scar that made her wonder what had happened—the firm chin with the slight cleft, the blond hair that wished to curl, especially at the nape of his neck.

But he was so big. So big and broad. Kathleen had been used to smaller men. Men more like Lucas in stature. For one brief minute she wished that she could change places with Erma. Erma was the one who had wanted the tall, blond rancher. Kathleen felt dwarfed beside him. Like a—like a small child looking up to her father. She didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t like it at all.

But Lucas was folding the square of linen that he had placed on his lap. Kathleen saw Erma reach for hers and fold it slowly as well. Kathleen followed suit.

“I’m sure we all have our own plans for the rest of the day,” Lucas was saying.

“I have had your luggage taken to my—our rooms,” Lucas said to Erma. “I’m sure you would like a bath and rest to refresh yourself.”

Erma looked at him appreciatively—and then back to Kathleen. For one brief minute Kathleen saw panic in the gray eyes.

“The—the wedding—?” Erma began.

“Will be at seven,” said Lucas evenly.

“I—I was wondering—since I know no one and—and Kathleen is my—my friend, could—could she attend me, sir?”

Kathleen’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought of attendants.

For one moment Lucas frowned slightly. He had already made all the arrangements. Then he looked back at Erma and nodded, if somewhat reluctantly. “Of course,” he said. “That—that will be—fine.”

Lucas turned to Kathleen; then his eyes lifted to Donnigan’s. “At the church—at ten to seven,” he said, and both Kathleen and Donnigan knew that Lucas meant for Donnigan to be sure to deliver her there promptly.

“I told the parson we’d be on over as soon as we et,” Wallis was saying to Risa.

The woman raised no objection, just nodded her head and followed Wallis as he headed for the door, his grin still firmly in place.

“Are you tired—or would you like to walk?” Donnigan asked Kathleen solicitously, nervously fingering his broad-brimmed hat.

He really felt the need to get to know something more about this young girl, and the teatime had not really given them much opportunity to speak to each other.

Kathleen was weary, but she, too, felt the need to discuss their future plans.

“I’ll walk,” she replied evenly, wondering to herself if Donnigan had forgotten her limp. Would he be embarrassed to be seen on the streets with a lame partner?

They turned from the coolness of the day to the heat of the afternoon sun. Kathleen accepted Donnigan’s offered arm. It seemed very strange to be on the arm of a man. She was used to scurrying through the streets of London on her own. Only the “ladies” were escorted.

They walked for a time in silence and then Donnigan spoke. “I have arranged for us to spend the night at the hotel,” he informed her.

Kathleen lifted her eyes. She was waiting for him to say when they were to be at the church to stand before the parson.

“I thought you might be too tired to travel on out to the farm tonight—having traveled for so many days already,” he went on to explain.

Kathleen nodded silently.

Her thoughts went on, tumbling over one another. He said, “the farm.” I’ll be back on a farm. I wonder if one can see the sea? Kathleen felt sure that they must be close to the sea. They had traveled so far. Surely the land couldn’t stretch much farther. She lifted a hand to wipe her hot brow with the white hanky that had been purchased in Boston.

Donnigan stopped short.

“It’s too warm for you, isn’t it? I’m sorry. You really need to get out of the sun. You should rest.”

Kathleen had never heard such concern in anyone’s voice before. Certainly not concern over her well-being.

“I’m—I’m fine,” she responded.

But he already was turning their steps toward the hotel.

“Your things have been taken to the room,” he told her as they entered the cool lobby. He did not add that he had been totally surprised at the scarcity of luggage. The stage driver had needed to assure Donnigan over and over that the one little trunk was “all the luggage that the little lady had.”

“I have the key—right here. I’ll take you up.”

With one hand under her elbow, he ushered her across the reception area and up the carpeted stairs. Kathleen felt woozy. Was it the heat—the events of the day—the man—or—or everything combined? So much was happening. So quickly.

They turned to the right at the top of the stairs and continued down a short hall. He presented the key and turned the lock in the door, opening it wide so she could enter. It was a pleasant room, with heavy blue and gold draperies, blue and gold carpet, and a soft bed that beckoned Kathleen.

“I’ll send someone right up with hot water. You can bathe and rest,” he assured her, then continued. “I’m sorry you won’t have long. We need to be at the church right at ten to seven. If we don’t, Lucas will have our hides.”

He turned to leave, reaching for the doorknob to pull the door shut behind him.

“Wait!”

Kathleen’s little cry stopped him.

“Our wedding?” asked Kathleen with more boldness than she thought she possessed.

“Tomorrow,” he answered briefly. “Not ’til tomorrow.”

He shut the door and was gone and Kathleen stared after him with wide, flashing eyes. Then she tugged a glove from her fingers and flung it on the bed beside her.

“Sure now—an’ it’s either you or me for the hall tonight, Mr. Donnigan Harrison, sir,” she said angrily.