Thread: Desperate Bride (Saul & Chanti)

Rose never noticed the threatening conflict between the man she had begun to think of as her rancher and the stagecoach driver, but she certainly noticed the bewildered response her rancher gave in response to her question about the appropriateness of their situation. Good lord, he hadnt even once considered it. Oh yes. Putty in her hands. But then his next statement brought her eyebrows shooting up, her cheeks blushing crimson. She hastily looked away, mortified at the thought of exactly WHY the poor girls father had a shotgun. Her rancher had ruined the girl. And Rose had almost gone happily away with him to be ruined herself. But her father wouldnt be coming after HIM with a shotgun. She didnt miss his obvious avoidance of the topic of his children either. She pursed her lips as he struggled with her trunks, following along beside him as he moved, politely ignoring the sounds of his huffing and puffing. Most of the items in the trunks were for him or his children, she refused to feel guilty for packing them so tightly. His offer of a decent place for her to stay town gave her a rush of silent gratitude. He certainly did not seem to be a bad sort of man at all, and she was beginning to feel tiny pangs of guilt for deceiving him. That is very kind of you to offer, Mr. Garrett. I feel bad about causing you such expense. Really, a formal wedding is not necessary. If we were in Boston dealing with society then it most certainly would be, but out here. Out here it all seemed rather pointless. Actually it all seemed rather pointless period. What was the point of celebrating her marriage to a man she did not love, did not even know? That was what made weddings beautiful, love between the husband and the wife. Her mother had adored her father, and would have been terribly disappointed to see Rose settling for less than love. But Roses mother hadnt seen what Rose had seen, hadnt had that rosy veil of everything is good and right in the world torn from her eyes in the space of a minute. Now it was all about survival, and Mr. Garrett was the key to Roses survival. If she had to marry him to survive, she would. But she didnt have to celebrate how low she had sunk. Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back valiantly, turning to look away towards the mountains as she furiously blinked the tears away before turning to face him again. She accepted his reassurances that the cost of the hotel room would not make things difficult for him. She offered him a shadow of her former bright smile, though she was struggling to make it as bright as before. Thank you for the offer, Mr. Garrett. Perhaps it would be best to live separately until we decide on the marriage. Appearances are important, if not for our sakes then for the childrens. Children could be viciously cruel in repeating what they heard their parents say in the privacy of their own homes. She didnt want his little ones harmed by her problems, even such a small consequence as that. I will not need my trunks in the hotel, my carpetbag carries more than enough. She lunged forward with a small cry as her trunk hit the ground with a heavy thud, the jarring fall opening the top. All her preciously stored bundles tumbled out into the dusty street. Thankfully she had carefully wrapped most of them up, only a few cans and jars rolled out on the ground, along with the stash of notebooks. All the other packages were the books she had brought, all carefully wrapped up in brown butchers paper. She helped him pick everything up off the street, acutely aware of how everyone was staring, some even grinning and chuckling. She felt sorry for her rancher, one glimpse at his face under his hat and it was clear he was embarrassed. I am so sorry for packing them so heavily. I just thought I would bring some things that would be difficult to get out here, mostly for the children. You send me far more money than I needed. I hope you dont mind. I rather wish I had saved it now, then you would not have this added expense of the hotel. Several months ago she would never have batted an eye at the cost of a hotel room for a few nights. She would have assumed it her due, and never once thought of the actual cost of it. But after months of living on her own, scraping every penny to survive, she was acutely aware of how much things cost. Every wasted cent made her stomach clench with anxiety. The questions he asked her began to make her stomach knot up even more. She could not allow him to know how she had lied. Not now. She forced another smile. No, unfortunately we were not able to have children. Yes, my.my brother. And his wife and children. The tiniest bit of hesitation caught in her voice as she tried to recall what she had written in her letter. Yes, it had been her brother she was certain of it. She HAD no brother, of course. No family in England that she was aware of. Lord, perhaps she should not have lied so readily. What if she forgot what she had said? Had it been an uncle who had went to England? But he rambled on about his poor deceased wife, and she let him. The man seemed as nervous as she was, and Rose was glad of it. It really was rather uncouth of him to speak of his dead wife to his.potentially new wife. But Rose understood it came from nervousness and easily forgave the faux pau. And really, the dead woman had far more right to have her name on his lips and be in his thoughts than Rose did. After all, she had loved the man and borne him children. Rose was merely using him to escape danger. The hot rush of shame and guilt irritated her, and she pushed it aside. She was doing what she had to do. I do think it would be best to stay here, but as I said earlier a ceremony is not needed. Yes, there was a hint of sadness to her voice as she admitted that. She remembered the glorious weddings she had attended of family friends, and how she had always thought she would have the same. Whenever the pastor is available would be fine. And indeed it would. He was a kind man, if a bit brusque at times. And heavily armed. Must not forget THAT essential point. Still, it was a better alternative than her other options. And at least he would not have wasted his money. Nor do I need any more dresses, I brought plenty with me. One of them will be suitable. Yesthe dreariest, blackest one she could find to commemorate the death of her childish romantic dreams. The man had been ridiculously under-prepared. He had not even know where a decent place for her to stay was. Fortunately a grinning passerby had quickly pointed out the only hotel in town. That hotel.. Rose looked around grimly. It wasnt much better than that hot stuffy garret room she had rented back in Boston. A bit cleaner, and the mattress looked more comfortable. The window opened out to the back of the hotel and a large green field dotted with wildflowers. But other than that, the amenities were few. The hotel keeper had reluctantly agreed to a tub of hot water for her, one Rose was very much looking forward to. Virgil quickly left her to herself after they agreed to meet at the one restaurant in town later that evening, and a few minutes later pails of steaming water were being dragged up the stairs by a sullen teenage boy who had a miraculous transition of his mood when he first laid eyes on Rose. Rose gave him a cool, polite smile and the boy nearly swallowed his tongue. Rose briefly wondered if she would have to smack him on the back before he would stop making those odd strangling noises, but he recovered before she grew too worried about him, vanishing back out for another pail of water. Soon Rose was sinking back into the tub, sighing contentedly as the hot water covered her exhausted body. Nearby lay a thin towel a far cry from the luxuriously soft towels she had grown up with. But the soap was a precious little splurge using some of the money Virgil had sent her, a soft lemongrass scented soap. She opened the package, inhaling the fragrance that reminded her so much of her dead mother, laid her head back on the rim of the tub, and let the tears flow. She shamelessly indulged in a sobbing fit of self-pity that at times became so severe she nearly splashed water onto the floor. She richly deserved it though, in her opinion. She had sunk from being the prettiest, most sought after debutante of the Boston social scene to a hunted woman harried across the entire country and into the arms of a stranger. A stranger she risked everything with, because she dared not be honest with him, yet would probably suffer his anger once he learned of her deceit. Her actions would probably hurt his innocent children too, no matter how much she tried to save them from it. She would do anything not to go through thisanything but die or turn into a whore. And really, those were her only choices. Only when her sobs had faded away, her fingers and toes were prunes, and every speck of dust had been viciously scrubbed from her body and hair did she finally clamber out of the cold water. Afternoon shadows stretched across the field behind her room when she lay down in the bed for a much needed nap. She awoke three hours later feeling much better for the rest, those shadows having faded into the darkness of night. Scrambling out of the bed in her petticoat, she drew the curtain, then turned to her carpetbag. She chose her water-blue silk dress for the evening, pulling it on over an extra three petticoats to make the skirt fuller. A simple double strand of pearls wrapped around her neck, and she weaved another strand of pearls through her braided hair, then coiled the braid into a tidy little nest on the back of her head. It still gave her the appearance of being a bit older, but added a touch of elegance and prettiness that she loved. Tonight may well make or break her when it came to a future as a respected wife or forced into selling her body to be able to eat. She stood in front of the tiny, dingy mirror, studying her sober reflection. And so it came down to this. Fighting desperately for something she did not really even want, to avoid certain death. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and hurried down the small dark hallway to the front room of the hotel where she hoped Virgil was already waiting.