Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4) Read online

  BRIDE SCHOOL: MARY

  (Book 4)

  The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch

  By Bella Bowen

  AMAZON KDP EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY

  Bella Bowen

  www.bellabowen.weebly.com

  Bride School: Mary © 2014 B.Bowen

  All rights reserved

  Amazon KDP Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Great Aunt Stella Bowen

  for teaching us all

  it’s okay to be crazy

  …as long as you’ve got style.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Stoddard House, Diamond Springs Ranch

  Mary Radley sighed over the pile of freshly laundered underthings folded neatly in her arms and headed to the third floor of Stoddard House to deliver them to the brides.

  In each room, she politely asked to see which dress the young lady had chosen to wear to the Wednesday night dance. Most were happy to show off not only the dress, but everything they planned to wear along with it, right down to the shoes.

  Of course Mary knew exactly what she would wear to her first dance as soon as Mrs. Carnegie allowed her to become a student, and eventually a graduate of the bride school. Never mind that she changed her mind about the color of that dreamy dress nearly every week.

  A pink gown with a proper bustle was her current favorite. Something with layers and layers of fabric dripping from her waist to the ground. And pearls. Most definitely pearls. The problem was she couldn't decide which shade of pink she would like the best. But as she started down the stairs to the second floor, she reminded herself there was no rush.

  Sadly.

  But it wasn’t that she was in an all fire hurry to be a bride. She just wanted to dance. At a real dance. With someone wearing britches for a change. Oh, she danced plenty when the brides in the class needed a partner to practice with. But she was tired of leading. And if she wasn’t careful, the first time she got to dance with a man, she’d do it wrong.

  By the time she reached the last door, she had only one shift left in her hands. If it was the wrong size for Alexandra Campbell, the bride within, she would have to rush around and switch with a few others, and hopefully get it done before any of them began dressing. It was always a scramble on Wednesdays.

  She took a deep breath and knocked softly. She didn't want to startle the young woman.

  There was no answer.

  She knocked a little harder.

  Still no answer.

  Mary wondered if Alexandra might be in the bathhouse. She pressed her ear to the door to make certain, and she heard the woman sniffle.

  “Miss Alexandra,” she said softly. “I have a clean shift for you. I only need to know if I have the right size.”

  It was silly, really. Shifts were loose-fitting things and one size fit most ladies. But there were a few who liked theirs tighter, and some who liked looser, which was ridiculous if the woman was also going to wear a corset. And trying to keep each lady’s preference straight, week after week, made her laundry deliveries more of a dance in themselves.

  “Alexandra? May I come in? It's me. Mary.”

  “Aye, come ahead then,” said a tortured voice.

  Mary entered quickly to see if the girl was all right and found the Scotswoman sitting at her dressing table staring at her own puffed eyes.

  “I am sorry,” Mary said. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  Alexandra shook her head, her sable ringlets bounced. “Not unless you wish to put on my dress and go to the dance in my place,” she muttered through her handkerchief. “I can’t do it, Mary. I'm not ready. I’ll not be swept around the dance floor one night, only to be dragged off to who knows where the next, in order to marry a man I don't love.”

  Mary had heard such things before from time to time. Often, though, it was from a bride who was supposed to marry the next morning, not a young woman who was about to reap her reward for graduating from all her classes. Besides, if a man were to propose, a bride could always put him off a week or two while she got to liking him.

  “But surely you don't expect to love a man in a matter of days, do you?” Mary laid the shift on the bed and wondered if she might be able to leave before Alexandra decided the thing was too small. “It's the way of the West, I suppose. But you can't have been expecting love at first sight. Can you?”

  Normally, Mary wouldn't have been so bold with a Diamond Springs Bride, but she and Alexandra had become friends, in a way. The young woman was quiet and kept to herself, so Mary had tried, from time to time, to help the girl feel like she was not completely alone on the big ranch, even though Mary was just a housemaid.

  “That's just the problem, Mary. I do believe in love at first sight because…it has already happened to me. Back home.”

  Mary gave up slinking toward the door. She tossed the shift aside and sank down onto the bed, anxious to hear more. “If you fell in love with someone from home, then what in the world are you doing here?”

  Alexandra smiled sadly. “Do you know what a blood feud is?”

  Mary guessed. “A fight between families?”

  The other girl nodded. “For centuries the Campbells have been feuding with the McDonalds. And whilst most of the families put it behind them, my father and William McDonald took it upon themselves to keep the feud alive in Chester County, Pennsylvania. I had no idea Connell was a McDonald when we met, and I’m afraid we were keenly in love before we ever got around to the subject.”

  Mary sat quietly while Alexandra dried her face with her handkerchief, but tears fell faster than the girl could wipe them away. Eventually, she gave up trying.

  “The only thing our fathers could ever agree on,” she continued, “is the fact that our families should never mingle. So they sent me here. And my Connell doesn't even know it.” Swept away in a fresh bout of weeping, Alexandra could no longer speak clearly.

  Mary's heart broke for her. “That's unspeakable. My pa's as mean as a boar hog and even he wouldn't begrudge me marrying a man I loved. At least I don't think he would. Of course, we never spoke about love. He said, if it hasn't got anything to do with puttin’ food on the table, it wasn't worth discussin’.”

  For a few moments, Mary was lost in memories of her father. Though he and her brothers lived on the mountain edging Sage River on the north, she hadn’t seen him in half a year—ever since she’d run off to find Mrs. Carnegie and beg her to let her attend the school. The woman had offered her work, along with room and board, with the promise
that one day she’d be allowed to become a student. Her pa had permitted it, but only after the woman bribed him. Deep down, though, Mary thought her pa took the bribe only to save his pride. She was near sure he’d allowed her to go along with Mrs. Carnegie because he believed she’d be better off among women for a while.

  Now that it was nearing Christmas, missing her family made a sore spot in her chest. She couldn’t imagine how much worse Alexandra must have felt if she were missing a young man she was in love with.

  When Mary looked at her in the mirror again, the young woman’s eyes were unexpectedly dry. The handkerchief was gone along with the tears. Mary thought perhaps the chance to share her worries with a friendly ear might have cheered her, but that wouldn't explain why Alexandra looked like a cat pickin’ its teeth with a feather.

  “What is it?” Mary asked. “Have you got a notion of how to cry off the dance?” Of course, Mary couldn’t understand why someone would give up a night of dancing, even if she didn't want to marry anyone she danced with.

  The pretty girl’s smile stretched wide. “Yes. I believe I have.”

  “So you won’t be going to the dance?”

  Alexandra shook her head. “No. Because you are going for me.” She got up from her seat and hurried to the door. She blocked it with her body before Mary had thought to run away.

  “Come now, Alexandra,” she sang to Mary. “Time to put on your pretty pink gown.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The day had begun the same as any other Wednesday. Instead of working in the kitchen, Mary was needed in Stoddard House to help the polished and graduated brides of Diamond Spring Ranch prepare for that evening's dance.

  No more than twelve women, each week, were taken into town and allowed to socialize with the gentlemen who hoped to find a wife from among them. Mary didn't know how Mrs. Carnegie managed to keep the numbers steady, but in the six months she'd been working at the ranch, Mary had never seen a week where all twelve spots weren't spoken for.

  The brilliant woman wasn’t just the owner of the ranch and operator of the Bride School, she was the patron saint of hopeful young ladies who wished to marry well—not necessarily to wealthy men, but at least respectable, honorable ones. Her service was a godsend in a time when men were ordering brides though the mail and couples married after only having clapped eyes on each other ten minutes before. A woman could find herself hitched to some horrible man with unspeakable habits and not realize it until it was too late.

  And this patron saint had agreed to allow Mary to work for her with the promise that one day she’d be allowed to choose her own honorable husband.

  Mary couldn't remember a day she hadn't dreamt of marrying a man who would take her far away from Sage River and the mountain where she'd been raised. And now that she was seventeen, she expected Mrs. Carnegie would realize she was ready. But for another week, maybe two, Mrs. Carnegie would be away from the ranch. It was Fontaine who was in charge of making certain the dancing and courting went on as usual.

  To help her manage, one of Mrs. Carnegie's female “Crawlers,” named Elsa, had come to Diamond Springs, but she didn't know the difference between Mary and the graduated girls. And since the woman would be managing the inside of the town hall while Fontaine stood guard outside, only the other brides would know that Mary wasn't supposed to be dancing with the bridegrooms.

  At least, that's the reasoning Alexandra used to convince her to try on the pink dress.

  Mary could usually resist a lot of temptation...as long as it didn't come packaged in the same shade as the little pink rose bush she'd tended in the woods above her house. In a fit of mean, her brother had destroyed the plant. She'd been obsessed with the color ever since.

  “It fits you better than it fits me,” Alexandra said, peering over Mary’s shoulder at the long glass mirror in the corner of the room. “I'm certain it's a sign. Providence, even.”

  Mary suspected the young woman would say pert near anything to convince her to go dancing in her stead. But little did she know Mary didn't need much convincing. Stronger than the fear of Mrs. Carnegie discovering her sin was her desire to put a slipper on that famed dance floor, to see what it felt like to be taken in a man's arms and twirled in circles.

  Of course, all she wanted was a taste. Something to add a touch of reality to her dreams. Something to give her hope that whatever the future held in store for her would be worth the wait.

  Mary toyed with her hair to see which style would best suit the dress while Alexandra moved through Stoddard House having private conversations with the other brides who would be headed to town that evening. When she returned, all eleven brides returned with her and flooded into the room.

  Miss Adair gasped. “Why would I want to compete for attention with this?” She pointed accusingly at Mary. “Of course she cannot go. I'm sorry, Alexandra. But if she turns all the male heads in the room, none of them will look twice at the likes of me.”

  Miss Adair was only being honest, so Mary couldn't fault her. The woman was plain, but pleasant. She never complained about the tasks she was given. And she was always the last to leave the kitchen on her assigned days, cleaning just one more thing. Doing just a little more than was expected of her. Any man would be happy to marry such a gal, and they all knew it.

  “You're right, Milly,” Alexandra said. “I wasn't being fair to any of you. Give the dress back, Mary. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until you've graduated to see what all the fuss is about.”

  Mary hid her disappointment and with the other girls’ help, stepped out of the pile of pink perfection. A moment later, Alexandra stepped into it. Three pairs of hands helped her button and tie all that wanted buttoning and tying. There was a clear difference. Alexandra filled out the dress while Mary's less mature form had simply occupied it.

  “You know,” Hortense began.

  “I've been thinking,” Alice interrupted.

  “Mary can go.” Milly Adair’s abrupt announcement was met with enthusiastic nods from the others. “If I can keep from competing with...” she gestured in the general area of Alexandra's bosom, “…with that, I don't mind Mary coming along. But she'll have to dance with whom we choose for her. No complaining.”

  Mary was quick to assure them. “Oh, I'll not complain, ladies. I swear.” She licked her finger and crossed her heart, which seemed to satisfy the rest, and they filed out the door.

  Mary helped Alexandra out of the dress she herself would be wearing and tried not to worry about how much less of her there was to fill the space in front.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Don’t you like the pie?” John’s mother touched his elbow and brought his attention back to the table.

  “Of course I do, Mother. I was just trying to make it last, that’s all.”

  It was the truth. After the table was cleared and the dishes were washed, the evening routine would take them to the small parlor where he and his father would sit in silence and avoid each other’s gaze while his mother chatted away, reminiscing about the days when her men were able to speak to each other without arguing. After ten such evenings, she had begun to repeat herself, but luckily, he wouldn’t have to sit through it again—at least not that night. And in two more days, his business in Sage River would be concluded and he’d be on the eastbound train, able to leave awkward silences behind.

  “I received another invitation from Diamond Springs this afternoon,” he said carefully. “It seems that tonight they will be short a bridegroom, like last week, and they need me to step in again.”

  To his left, his father relaxed. Apparently, the evenings were beginning to wear on him as well.

  “Probably some weak-kneed farmer from the south,” the man said, “afraid of a little Wyoming snow.”

  John didn’t have to look to his right to know his mother was pleased her husband had spoken at last. “No doubt.” He put his napkin on the table. “Dinner was wonderful. But I’m afraid I really should get moving.”

  It was
a lie. The dance wouldn’t begin for more than an hour, but he was desperate to get out of the house—a house he remembered being so much larger when he was young. Now, it seemed as if four people, including the housekeeper, made the place bulge like a barrel about to burst.

  His mother nodded and turned aside to wipe her eyes on her apron, pleased enough with her husband that she didn’t complain about John going out.

  He pushed back his chair and stood, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Mother.”

  “Goodnight, dear.”

  He headed out of the dining room but paused in the doorway. “Goodnight, Pa,” he said, without looking back.

  “Goodnight…son.”

  He headed out into the snow with a smile on his face.

  ~ ~ ~

  For an hour, Mary sat in front of the mirror and watched Alexandra pull and fuss with her dark hair. The transformation happened so slowly she was caught by surprise when she eventually stared at two Alexandras in the mirror. The only thing different was that one of them bore her own face.

  She instantly relaxed. Even if Mrs. Carnegie were in the room, she would have a hard time telling between the two—except for the bosom of course.

  But Alexandra was not finished.

  A small pink hat completed the costume. It had a delightful drape of pale pink lace that fell over the right half of Mary’s face. She could sit next to Fontaine in a carriage and not be immediately recognized.

  The female gunslinger was the worry. Of course she’d never harm Mary, but no one trifled with Fontaine. When Mrs. Carnegie was in town, Fontaine made certain the woman's orders were followed to the letter. When Mrs. Carnegie was out of town, Fontaine was as prickly as a porcupine, always nervous that something would go wrong while she was in charge of the ranch. But hopefully, those worries of hers would keep her from looking too closely at faces.