Page 12 of My Heart Will Find You

It was as they reached the end of the long street that a woman rode up on a truly magnificent horse. Big, black, shiny. The woman was also magnificent. Etta had begun to think that her dream consisted only of people who didn’t know what “clean” meant. But then there was this woman. She was covered neck to feet in dark green wool. Had Etta read about such a garment in one of Henry’s books, it would have sounded modest, but the way it fit was anything but. It was as sexy as lingerie in an underwear catalog.

When she halted her prancing horse on Etta’s side of the wagon, she smiled in recognition. It was Ben’s wife, Caroline, the firecracker, the woman who adored Henry and had designed a guesthouse for him. “Hello!” Etta said enthusiastically. “I’m—”

She ignored Etta. Her eyes were on the man. “Is it true?” she demanded.

His mouth was a hard line. “This is my wife, yes.”

She gave a rather remarkable sneer. “Isthiswhat you wanted? Old and plain?”

“That’s not very nice,” Etta said.

Caroline still didn’t look at her. “You would do this to me? After all we’ve done together?” Her meaning was clear: bedroom antics. “You’re a bastard, and I hope you get what you deserve. In fact, I’m going to see that you do.”

Etta knew woman-scorned rage when she heard it, and she knew Caroline was going to lash out. She was going to strike at him with her long riding crop. But Etta was between them.

The man also knew what was about to happen. He pushed Etta down, out of striking range. Her head hit her knees. At her feet was the wrapped parasol, and she grabbed it. Unfortunately, the wrapping fell off.

Etta sat up, the closed parasol extended, and the whip hit it instead of him.

The looked of rage on Caroline’s face was enough to cause thunder to crash. “This isn’t over,” she yelled as she rode away, causing manure and sawdust and mud to hit the wagon and its occupants.

When the air cleared, he was looking at Etta in disbelief. “Old girlfriend?” she asked with exaggerated calm.

He gave what was almost a laugh and set the horses to moving.

Etta looked at the parasol. One of the silk panels had a cut in it. “Oh no.” Something so beautiful to be ruined was a catastrophe.

“Alice can fix it,” he said softly.

Nodding, she wrapped it back up and put it down.

They left the stinking town and were on flat ground where the path was relatively clean. He stopped the wagon and took a moment before he spoke. “I know you want to meet Alice but maybe you and I could...”

“We could what?” she asked, while thinking,Have I conjured a dream with a wedding night in it?

She wasn’t displeased at the idea.

“Thank you for what you did with Cornelia.”

“She probably wouldn’t have hit you.”

He leaned forward and took off his hat. His dark hair was long. Not Wild Bill Hickok long but a little longer than dumb ole Custer’s. He turned so she could see his left ear. His earlobe was crooked. It looked like it had been mostly torn off then sewn back on by a six-year-old.

“Was the doctor drunk?” she asked.

He gave a full-fledged smile. “As a matter of fact, he was.”

“You should have let Martha do it.”

“Martha Garrett?” he said in horror as he put his hat back on. “She would have yanked it all the way off and said it was a useless body part.”

Etta didn’t smile. “But if you became a pirate, you’d need it for an earring.”

He grinned at her. “You’re not like I thought you would be.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Very good.” His eyes were sparkling.

---