Eden Creek Read online

  “Won’t they fall off?” she finally asked.

  “Nope.”

  “What about my other things?” Orrin frowned at her, and she self-consciously remembered the wilting feathers atop her bonnet, the wrinkled basque waist of her bodice, and the soot-stained skirt. “You mean there’s more?”

  She clutched the hatbox as if it could ward off the intensity of his disapproval. “Well, yes,” she began. “There’s a trunk with my china, another with the silver. Then there’s my summer wardrobe, my table linens, and my bedding.”

  “Did you leave anything behind?”

  She ignored his sarcastic tone, but for one unbidden moment a spark of anger flared in her eyes. “There wasn’t much point in that. This is my home now. I won’t ever be going back.” As gracefully as she could manage, she slogged past him and followed Ruby.

  Orrin watched his bride-to-be as she flounced off in a huff.

  Ruby had promised him a loving, docile wife. But damn it all to hell, Ruby had stretched the truth a little when she’d called the woman biddable.

  So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that the woman’s sudden show of spunk hid some deeper emotion? Something that lingered in Ginny Parker’s gray-blue eyes like the dull glint of panic?

  For at least the twentieth time in less than five minutes Ginny stopped pacing. A curtain partition separated her from the main room of the barbershop where the justice of the peace doubled as the barber and augmented his living by giving cuts and shaves. She’d been allowed a few minutes alone to “gather herself,” as Ruby had put it. But since all of her things had been left in the carpetbags on the wagon, or the trunks at the station, Ginny had no comb or brush, not even a few extra pins to tuck her hair into place and repair the wavy chestnut strands that had escaped from the knot at the back of her head.

  Peering out the dusty storage room window onto the street below, Ginny tried to calm her nerves.

  “It’s all for the best,” Mama had told her at the train just before Ginny had left Missouri. “You’ll start fresh in the country with a man who needs a wife and three girls who need a mother.”

  Ginny had been sensible enough not to expect a prince—after all, what prince would have Ruby Ghant doing his matchmaking?—but she hadn’t dreamed of this, either. She was marrying a man who probably hadn’t bathed for the better part of a week, one who studied her as if she were a new plow to be bought and put to work on his farm, one who’d forgotten that she’d been scheduled to arrive that afternoon.

  “What have I done?” she moaned softly, looking around with wild eyes.

  “Ginny?”

  She immediately recognized Ruby’s voice on the other side of the curtain.

  “Are you finished, honey?” A note of impatience entered Ruby’s tone. “We only have a few minutes until I have to leave.”

  “Just a minute. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need some help?”

  “No! No. I’ll be out.”

  The sound of Ruby’s boots faded away.

  Ginny yanked open the window and reached for her skirts so that she could climb outside into the street. It wouldn’t be hard to escape. She could run away. She could slip through the window and melt into the evening crowds without anyone ever being the wiser.

  No.

  Her resolve seeped away like air wheezing from a squeeze box. Things wouldn’t get any better if she left Ogden—or Ruby’s nephew. Her mother had made that fact quite clear. And her father…

  She hoped her father would think she’d run away from the Parker home.

  Home.

  Sometimes she felt as if she’d never had a home. She’d been shuffled from one place to another all her life. First boarding school, then finishing school, then tours of the Continent. She’d only been allowed a few weeks in Plymouth each year.

  Until this winter.

  After finally returning home Ginny felt like a stranger to her own parents. Her mother had been distant, her father unapproachable. Each hour in the Parker house had become an hour in purgatory—so Ginny had sought out old friends. Met new ones. Like Billy Wicks.

  The familiar sliver of betrayal settled into her chest. Despite the passage of time and miles she couldn’t banish the image of his wavy blond hair, his laughing good looks.

  And the other woman in his bed.

  Bitterly Ginny admitted that she’d fallen into Billy’s snare like a too-ripe plum. Though she’d spent her whole life trying to gain her father’s approval, Herbert Parker had never appeared pleased with her until she and Billy had begun to see each other. Billy had been one of her father’s favorite employees at the bank, and Ginny knew that if she and Billy had married, Herbert Parker would have made Billy his heir. In fact, if the truth were known, her father had shown more affection toward Billy Wicks than he had ever shown to her.

  Papa would never forgive her now.

  Her mind formed an image of her father’s stern features, chest-length beard, black suit. Herbert Parker had always been a strict parent and a devout Christian. Yet when it came to Billy Wicks he turned a blind eye to the younger man’s true character.

  Ginny didn’t think she could have borne it if Herbert Parker had discovered her shame. She had found it hard enough asking her mother for help; she could never confess her indiscretions to Herbert Parker. Never.

  A panicky feeling settled into Ginny’s chest at the mere thought. Months ago she never would have imagined that the threat of her father’s rejection would take her so far away. But by marrying Orrin, Ginny could hide her sins long enough to atone for past mistakes.

  Realizing she’d spent most of her allotted time agonizing about her predicament, Ginny hurried to repair some of the damage caused by the wind and rain. Tearing the drenched bonnet from her head, she plucked the few remaining pins from her hair and tried to finger-comb it into place, then braided it into a thick plait down her back. There was no help for her suit, however. Soot and grime stained the blue fabric; wrinkles creased her arms and hips.

  Ginny swiped at the worst of the damage, then sighed in defeat. If she had her trunks with her, she could have changed, but there was no helping her situation now.

  Her eyes fell on the battered hatbox perched on a crate of macassar bottles. After pressing her palms together to still their trembling Ginny lifted the lid. Reverently she stroked the delicate lace of her mother’s bridal veil.

  Mama had wanted her to be happy. That’s why Miriam Parker had made the arrangements for Ginny to marry her housekeeper’s nephew, why she’d pressed the box into her arms just before Ginny had boarded the train.

  “But you never knew it would be like this, did you, Mama?” Ginny spoke aloud, her stormy blue eyes lifting to survey the dust-choked storeroom with its jumbled crates and boxes. Her wedding wouldn’t be performed in a church or even a courthouse, but in a barbershop.

  A barbershop. Even her marriage would serve as a symbol that love was an illusion and romance was reserved for those who hadn’t the courage to look at life realistically.

  Or those too blind to see that adoration was a pretty word for manipulation.

  In the space of one single afternoon Billy had taught her that lesson with blunt efficiency. She wasn’t likely to forget it soon.

  “Ginny? Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Ghant.”

  With hands that were steady and filled with determination, Ginny replaced the lid. She walked away, leaving the veil where it belonged, nestled in a box filled with whispered dreams and wishes that had no place in a barbershop wedding.

  Chapter 2

  When Ginny emerged into the main room an expectant hush settled over the barbershop as at least two dozen pairs of eyes swung her way. Evidently word of the marriage had been passed along, and some of the townspeople had come to see the ceremony.

  For the most part, those who had come to attend Orrin’s wedding were men. Except for a trio of women in the far corner by the door, the rest of
the group appeared as if they’d been dragged in from the stockyards. Their clothing was mud-stained and well worn, their expressions openly curious. And judging from the rather ribald comments she’d heard being bandied about, they approved of Orrin’s choice in brides.

  Ruby Ghant took Ginny by the elbow and propelled her through the crush of people. “Now don’t go getting shy on me. We don’t have time for the usual prenuptial jitters like acting coy and dragging your feet. My train leaves in little more than a half hour, and I want to talk to Orrin about taking you back to the hotel for a bite to eat before you two head up to Eden Creek. You didn’t finish enough of your sandwich this afternoon to keep a bird alive.”

  Ginny offered a quick “Yes, ma’am.” Actually, she was relieved to dispense with most of the formalities. She wanted the ceremony over and done. She didn’t want to worry that Orrin Ghant would suddenly change his mind. After all, he wasn’t getting much of a bargain.

  Moving economically despite her bulk, Ruby dragged Ginny forward until she stood between the two tufted leather barber chairs.

  “Now you stand here in front of the mirror so you can be seen by all the guests. My word, you’ve got a head of hair, don’t you?” Snatching a brush from the counter, Ruby began to fuss with Ginny’s bangs, but she only succeeded in making the damp tendrils stand out on end. Huffing to herself, she licked her fingers and tried to settle the curls down against Ginny’s forehead. The murmuring of the onlookers increased.

  “Where has Orrin gone to?” Ruby called through the din, abandoning the effort and slamming the brush back on the counter. “You”—she pointed accusingly at one of the men in the back—“go find him. And you”—she turned back to Ginny—“smile pretty and proud like a bride should. ’Course, you haven’t got a bouquet or most of the frills.” Spying a dog-eared Bible on one of the tables littered with old newspapers and periodicals, Ruby gave it to Ginny, stating, “Carry this. It looks nice and proper and will give you something to hold on to.” She whirled toward the barber, who had removed his apron and donned a special set of red sleeve garters in honor of the occasion. “Don’t you have some ribbons or something she can wear to cover up all that frizz?”

  The barber glared at her, clearly affronted by the suggestion. “No, ma’am. This is a barbershop, not a mercantile.”

  Ginny thought briefly of the veil in the storeroom, but said nothing. She couldn’t wear it. Not now. She couldn’t let these people become witness to her own foolish fantasies.

  Ruby sniffed in disgust and reached up to tear a spray of pink silk flowers from her own bonnet, then slipped them into Ginny’s hair. “There. Now you look like a bride. Orrin? Has anyone found him?”

  “Here.”

  Though Ginny had stoically endured Ruby’s fussing, the sound of that deep, husky voice caused a rush of nerves to skid up her spine.

  Her eyes leapt to the mirror and clung to the image of the tall masculine form weaving his way through the crowd, pausing now and again to say something to the men present. His clothes were still as disreputable as her own, but Orrin had managed to wash his hands and face and pull a comb through his hair. For the first time Ginny could see that he had hair the color of aged wheat—brown and gold. The strands had been carefully tamed and brought back from his forehead with the aid of a little water.

  “Well, let’s get on with the ceremony.”

  “Yes, Aunt Ruby.” His words were meek, but the tone of Orrin Ghant’s voice was far from cooperative. He sidled away from his aunt, his earth-brown eyes sparkling with amusement, as if Ruby’s bossiness was a joke to be shared. But when he met Ginny’s gaze his expression grew intent. And she knew deep in her soul that he was thinking about how they would spend the rest of their days together.

  And their nights.

  Ginny’s palms grew damp, but she didn’t look away. Especially when he gave her a slow, thoughtful smile.

  Maybe she would have been better off marrying the other man. The one with no teeth. Judging by that hungry polecat smile, Orrin Ghant would be dangerous to a woman like her. No doubt he was a man who felt things deeply. Things like laughter. And loyalty.

  And passion.

  Ginny lowered her eyes.

  Ruby quickly orchestrated the last preparations for the wedding. Orrin took his place beside Ginny, his arm brushing her shoulder. The barber stepped forward and, after running his fingers down the drooping ends of his mustache, began the ceremony.

  The words being spoken would bind her to this man for the rest of her life, but Ginny felt them flow over her like rain. Unlike many women her age, she’d already learned that in most relationships love was superseded by tolerance. She entered her own marriage just as realistically, just as resignedly.

  First tend to the marriage, then learn to love.

  Ginny couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard that statement from her mother and grandmother. Even Nanna-great had spouted the same advice. For generations the Parker women had entered into arranged marriages, and it looked as if Ginny was destined to follow in their footsteps.

  With the stranger beside her.

  Ginny stared at Orrin Ghant’s reflection in the fly-speckled mirror. Now that part of the mud had been scraped away, Ginny could see his face. Orrin was taller than she by a good six inches, with a leanness and breadth of chest that revealed he wasn’t unaccustomed to hard work. Even with the dark stubble on his chin and the longish wheat-brown hair he appeared to be a decent-looking man. Almost handsome. Yet he appeared as unimpressed as she by the symbolic nature of the words being spoken. In fact, she wondered if he were paying attention at all. He was now watching her as she had watched him.

  She managed to maintain an outward appearance of calm, but inside a wave of panic washed over her. What was she supposed to say to him; how was she supposed to act? Would they spend the next forty or fifty years together as polite acquaintances like her parents? Or would they somehow become friends?

  It shouldn’t be like this, a little corner of Ginny’s heart whispered, but she thrust the thought aside. She’d had her taste of romance, and it had become bitter in her mouth. Somehow she had to face the rest of her life.

  With Orrin Ghant.

  A cool draft of rain-kissed air swirled into the barbershop, drawing her attention back to the ceremony. The justice of the peace had finished his remarks and had begun to address her. Dutifully, she repeated her vows and listened while Orrin gave his.

  “The ring?” the justice asked.

  Orrin swore under his breath.

  “The ring, Orrin,” Ruby prompted from his side in a tone that could be heard with ease from the opposite side of the room.

  Orrin cleared his throat “I left it in the wagon.”

  “The wagon! Go get it!”

  “That won’t be entirely necessary,” the justice interrupted quickly. “If we could find something else…” Turning, he searched frantically through the items on the counter, then crowed, “Aha, this will do the trick!” Unscrewing the lid from a bottle of macassar, he slipped the decorative foil ring from the neck. “Just put this on her finger and exchange it for the real thing when you get the chance.”

  Ginny watched as Orrin took the green band from the barber. The warmth of his skin seeped into her flesh as he slid it over her knuckle, reciting his final vows. Then, rather than letting go of her hand, he kept it in his grip in a way that Ginny found unsettling.

  “By the power invested in me by the Territory of Utah and the City of Ogden, I now pronounce you man and wife. Go ahead and kiss your bride, Orrin,” the justice of the peace encouraged.

  She was well and truly wed.

  Vainly Ginny sought some sign in his face that he wasn’t sorry, that he was actually happy he’d married her, even if he pretended to be pleased.

  “Aw, hell, just go ahead and kiss her, Orrin!” someone shouted from the back of the room, and the rest of the crowd laughed.

  “Shut your mouth, Harley. She’s my bride,” Orrin calle
d.

  Bride.

  Orrin lowered his head. Briefly Ginny wondered if he would crush her to him. But as her lashes flickered and she watched him lean closer he merely gave her a fleeting kiss, then drew away.

  Ginny’s mouth tingled, and unconsciously she licked her lips, causing Orrin’s eyes to drop to the moist path she’d created.

  “You’re mine now, Ginny Ghant,” he said softly, so softly that only she could hear. But his voice throbbed with serious intent. “And I keep what’s mine. You’d best remember that.”

  Ginny wondered what he meant by that cryptic remark, but from behind Ruby Ghant sniffled in delight. The witnesses clapped and called out wishes of luck. Then, as if his warning had never been uttered, Orrin grinned and lifted their hands above their heads for the audience to see.

  As the men cheered, his grip tightened briefly in quiet reassurance. The gesture was unexpected and, to Ginny, more welcoming and sweet than any he’d offered her yet.

  Mama was right, she thought. Everything will be fine.

  Daring a brief smile, she looked up. Her smile faltered.

  On his ring finger Orrin still wore a gold band.

  A gold band that bound him to another woman.

  Ginny didn’t know if she were relieved or disappointed when Ruby Ghant managed to catch her train with only a minute to spare. Standing just a step or two behind Orrin, Ginny watched as the other woman heaved herself onto the platform of the last passenger car and waved.

  “Don’t forget to send me a wire if you need my help,” she shouted. Although the wedding ceremony was over, she blinked back the sentimental tears that lingered in her eyes. “I can be back in a jiffy. It would only take me four or five days by train, and we’re family. Family takes care of one another.”

  The engine huffed, and its wheels began to creak into motion.

  “Now you stay out of the rain. Don’t get your feet wet in this foul weather. Be sweet to her, Orrin.”

  The train chugged away from the station, filling the air with cinders and steam, but Ruby kept talking. “And Ginny, don’t you hurt my boy. He’s already carrying a load of grief after that no-account woman had the gall to die on him.”