Chapter 9

Friday evening, Melody and her father greeted Jackson Malbry. The forty-year-old was of medium build and height. He extended his hand to Melody's father, and the two spoke briefly.

"I was afraid it would be raining this evening. Saw that cloudbank come up in the west," Jackson said, giving Melody a slight smile. "Didn't want it to spoil our dinner."

Melody shrugged and took up her shawl. "A little rain couldn't hurt us. In fact, the garden would greatly appreciate the watering."

He nodded while Da asked him something about his workday. Melody studied the man carefully. He had a reddish glint to his brown hair, and his eyes were a sort of hazel color. He seemed nervous, but who could blame him? This wasn't exactly a typical course of events.

"And we've definitely had an increased number of orders," Jackson was telling Da.

As Melody understood it, the man was a wainwright. He owned a shop where he built and repaired wagons and carriages.

"'Tis always good to see business doin' so well." Da turned to Melody and gave a wink before fixing Jackson with a stern look. "I'll be expectin' nothin' less than gentlemanly conduct from ya, Mr. Malbry. Have me daughter home by eight, or I'll come lookin' for ya, and the outcome won't be pleasant."

"I'll have her home by eight," the man said, nodding. "And of course I will treat her with the utmost respect."

"Good. Then off with ya both, and have a lovely time."

Jackson nodded, and Melody hurried through the tent flap. She wasn't sure what kind of evening she was headed for, but Jackson seemed companionable. She whispered a prayer hoping the evening would go well, even if he wasn't the man God had in mind for her husband.

"Your father can certainly be intimidating," Jackson said after they'd walked a few minutes.

Melody couldn't help laughing. "That was Da's good side. You don't want to get on his bad side, that's for sure. But you can relax now. I don't want to have any pretense between us. My father wants me to marry quickly, before he leaves with the railroad. I desire to remain in Cheyenne, and marriage was his idea so that I would have someone to watch over me."

"Yes, he told me. I'm not opposed to an arranged marriage," Jackson replied. "My mother and father were arranged and did quite well."

"I did wonder what kind of man would show up when Da put out the call for someone to be my husband."

"I am surprised you weren't already spoken for." He looked at her, and Melody couldn't help but smile again.

"I was busy taking care of Da. And Da can be quite intimidating too. A great many men weigh the odds and walk away rather than deal with my father. That's why I'm still single, Mr. Malbry."

"Call me Jackson. May I call you Melody?"

"Of course. I see no reason to stand on formalities, especially given the circumstances."

"I hope you don't mind walking to the supper club. I'm a little embarrassed to admit I don't own a carriage. Seems each time I start to build myself a wagon or carriage, someone in dire need talks me into selling it."

"You're kind to let them buy something you intended for yourself. But no, I don't mind walking at all. I walk everywhere, every day. I'm used to it. And you'll find that I'm no grand lady requiring finery. I'm pretty capable and work hard. I have a job at the Coopers' boardinghouse, and I intend to keep it for a time because Mrs. Cooper is rather desperate for the help. Would you have problems with that?"

He considered that for a moment. "I never thought of having a wife working a job since I can easily provide for my family. It doesn't seem fitting for a married woman to hold a job."

Melody was disappointed by his reply. She didn't want to let Mrs. Cooper down, and if she married Jackson Malbry, it was clear that she would most likely have to quit.

"However," Jackson continued, "what with Mrs. Cooper being in great need, that changes things. I've always been one to help my neighbors out. You could continue working for her, and ... well, it might sound strange, but ... take no pay."

Melody was surprised by his answer. So many men were money hungry, yet here was a man who would allow his wife to work for no pay in order to help a friend.

"You have a kind heart, Jackson. I like that idea very much."

He smiled. "I'm glad you think so. I know I'm considerably older than you. Fact is, I was married once before. We were childhood sweethearts. My wife died from pleurisy twenty years ago, only a year after we married. We had no children. I wasn't of a mind to marry again, but the idea of growing older without someone ... well, it makes for a lonely life."

Melody felt great sympathy for the man. He had faced the loss of a loved one. A childhood sweetheart. The very thought touched Melody deeply. Perhaps she could be the one to mend Jackson Malbry's broken heart.

On Saturday, Bruce Cadot showed up to take Melody out for a day of fun at the McDaniel Museum. It was more than a simple museum and, in fact, had a variety hall and saloons. The performances ran the gamut from lectures to ballets and everything in between. Melody had heard that it was most entertaining.

After a brief introduction, the couple headed to the museum, with Bruce offering nonstop talk all the way.

"I got out of the army last year, and then my father died. He was the last of my kin. He left me a little money, so I came here to get homestead land. I have cattle and am about to take on even more."

"So your desire is to have a large ranch here in Cheyenne?" Melody asked him.

"Yes, ma'am. I grew up with cattle, and it's in my blood. I know I can make a go of it as long as I can find me some good hands."

"And a wife would be one of those ... hands?"

"No, not at all. I need a wife to run the house and give me ... well, I want a family. A big one."

Melody could see he was rather embarrassed by his declaration. "I want children too. I appreciate that you would bring up the matter. I think it's important to discuss all the details. After all, it wouldn't serve either of us well to court and marry only to find we didn't want the same things."

"No, ma'am. That would be a disaster."

As they reached the museum, the McDaniel's famed hurdy-gurdy played loudly and constantly. Folks in the area were used to the noise, while newcomers were often seen with their hands over their ears. Sunday was the only day of the week that Professor McDaniel, as he was known to call himself, silenced the beast.

Melody thought it a pleasant sound and didn't mind the music it made. Bruce laughed and led her toward the free museum. "My beeves wouldn't care for the caterwauling of that thing at all." She laughed.

The museum advertised itself as having 1,001 marvels, with free admission to any man who drank at the saloon. Melody didn't have to wait long to see how Bruce might handle the situation.

"We'll pay," he told the admission clerk.

After Bruce paid for their tickets, she questioned him. "You don't drink?"

"No, ma'am. My mother and father were completely against it. They said it was a sin, and I believe if it's not, then it can definitely lead to that."

She found his comment rather reassuring. So many of the men in town lost themselves in liquor. Her own father had suffered greatly from drink. He would appreciate Bruce's teetotaling ways. No doubt he had questioned the young man all about it.

"I appreciate your thoughts on the matter." Melody allowed him to lead her into the museum. "My father gave up drinking when he got right with God."

"Your father is ... well, he's rather intimidating. I'm glad he's a Christian."

Melody laughed. "It doesn't stop Da from fighting when the moment requires it. I know he can be a bit frightening. But have no fear, Bruce. You've passed Da's first inspection and made it this far. Tell me about your parents. Were they people of God?"

"My folks were very religious," Bruce continued. "I was brought up to fear God and to honor Him. That was always important in my family."

"Mine too." Melody considered the man as he paused to look at a display of what was labeled Rare Egyptian Artifacts.

Bruce Cadot was her own age. Da had told her that she was, in fact, a few months his senior. With blond hair that held a slight wave to it and brown eyes, Melody was certain he was one of the handsomest men she'd ever met. But even being as good-looking as he was, Bruce didn't seem to think much on that matter. He was nothing like Jefferson Lane, who knew he was handsome and expected compliments from everyone around him.

"It says that plate there is over four thousand years old. I can't even fathom that much time. It would have been long before Jesus walked the earth."

Melody nodded and studied the dish. "It is hard to imagine anything that old that a person could actually touch and hold."

"When I think of how often I broke one of my ma's dishes, it's a real wonder to me that these things are still around." He grinned at Melody. "Guess it's a good thing they aren't wantin' to show off my ma's dishes."

They both laughed at that.

They progressed to the next marvel, but Melody's thoughts weren't on the exhibits. Bruce seemed far more lighthearted and fun to be with than Jackson had been. He was her own age, and no doubt they would have a lot in common. Maybe he was the one.

Charlie was hopeful Melody would join them at the table for breakfast on Monday morning. Mrs. Cooper had insisted Melody eat with them, even if she was the hired help. The Coopers saw their boarders and staff as family. Charlie thought it a wonderful way of looking at things.

Unfortunately, after pouring coffee for each person, Melody disappeared. After grace was offered, Otis asked about her absence.

"Melody is in the garden," Mr. Cooper replied. "I was able to lay my hands on ten dozen onion bulbs and a variety of seeds and vegetable plants. She's working to get it all put into the ground."

The conversation continued regarding gardens and weather. Charlie downed his bacon and scrambled eggs, then grabbed up a piece of toast and stood. "Excellent breakfast, Mrs. Cooper." He hurried from the room before anyone could question his rapid exit.

He went upstairs and changed into more informal attire, then slipped down the back stairs and made his way outside. Usually, he spent the early hours before heading to the bank reading his Bible and writing letters. This morning he had other ideas.

Clancy Doyle had taken him off guard. Instead of wanting to focus on his banking situation, the older man had told Charlie flat out that he felt, after prayer and contemplation, Charlie was the man God had sent to marry his daughter. The news had come as a surprise to Charlie, but not nearly the shock he might have expected.

The more the older man talked about his thoughts on the matter, the more Charlie felt it was the truth that had been staring him in the face the entire time. Melody was, by his own admission, most everything he'd ever wanted in a wife. And the more he considered her being by his side for the rest of their lives, the more it seemed a perfect fit.

But, as he'd told her father, he felt it was important that the two be friends first. Charlie had seen far more success in romances when that element was in play. Clancy had agreed to say nothing but planned to allow Melody to go on her outings with the would-be suitors. He knew already that none of them would be her choice. Charlie wished he could be as confident.

Melody was on her knees in the rich garden dirt planting onion bulbs. She had her long brown hair braided down her back. It stuck out from under her sunbonnet, which she'd casually tied around her neck.

"Good morning," he said, kneeling to join her. "Looks like rain, so I thought you might like some help."

"The threat of rain is why I didn't stay for breakfast. I told Mrs. Cooper I could have a good part of the garden planted in the time it would take to eat. A fresh rain will do wonders for the new plants."

"I agree." He grabbed up a handful of onion bulbs from the little basket beside Melody. "How are you planning this out?"

She motioned to the narrow line. "This is the second row, and I figure there's enough for a third row as well. I've already staked it out."

Charlie noted the string she had tied from one stake to the other to mark where the long row would be. "I can get that planted. You go ahead with the second one."

"Put the bulbs close, just a few inches apart. That way I can pull green onions when they're ready, and that will give the others room to grow."

Charlie got to his feet and took up the hoe at the end of the garden. He carefully followed the string to dig a shallow row. Next, he plopped in the bulbs just a few inches apart, as Melody had instructed.

Melody finished her row before he did and was taking up the string and walking the line to stomp down the dirt by the time he grabbed the last of the bulbs and finished his row. Dark clouds were moving in ever closer.

"I knew we could have that done in quick order." Charlie grinned as she untied the string from the third-row stake.

"There's still plenty to plant, but don't you need to get to the bank?"

"It's my bank, so I can go in when I want." He chuckled and shrugged. "I don't suppose I sound very much like a bank president, do I? My father would question my sense and loyalty."

"Well, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble over radishes and squash."

"Well, the truth is, I was wondering how your dates went with the would-be suitors?"

Melody straightened and stopped midstep. "Well enough, I suppose. Jackson Malbry was the first. He was very kindhearted. The man deserves to find himself love, but I don't think that it will come from me. We had a nice enough supper, but frankly, I didn't feel we had much in common. He has his wagonmaking and is God-fearing, but I think his heart will forever belong to his first wife. He spent most of our time together talking about her and the dreams they had together. Made me sad."

"I'm sure losing someone you love is tough to get over. I'm surprised he responded to your father's announcement."

"It was probably the easiest way to find a companion. He's lonely. That much is clear. Still, I think I'd forever live in the shadow of a woman he's loved since childhood."

"And the second beau?"

"He had potential but wasn't quite right. Bruce Cadot is his name."

"I know Mr. Cadot. He borrowed money from the bank. He seems very industrious and driven to succeed."

"Yes. His ground is about twelve miles outside of town proper. I don't know if I could be happy as a rancher's wife. I like living in town. I've never seen myself as a farm or ranch wife. The isolation would be too much. I've always had people around me. We've been like one big traveling family since starting up with the UP, and before that we lived in a dozen other towns while Da worked for a variety of railroads. City life is what I know and appreciate."

Charlie could understand that. He didn't figure he'd be very good at living on a farm or ranch himself. Cheyenne was isolated enough, but it was clearly growing, and there were new people coming in daily. With that came a sense of anticipation that excited him. Each day the town was changing, and who could say where it would all end up?

"Bruce needs a wife who understands working with animals. I told him I probably wouldn't be of any use to him. I'm rather afraid of roosters. Had one attack me right after we moved to Omaha. I don't know how to ride horses or hitch a wagon. If I can't walk to where I'm going, I just don't go."

She continued walking down the line of planted bulbs. "So my conclusion is that neither Bruce nor Jackson would make a good husband for me. Well, perhaps I should reword that. I wouldn't make a good wife for them."

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "There's nothing wrong with that. Just keep praying about it. God will show you the right person."

"I agree." She reached the end of the row and bent down to take up the stake and remaining string. "Want to help me mark out the next row?"

"Sure." He went to her and took the stake and string. "Just show me where you want it."

"About twelve inches from the last row." She drove her stake into the soft ground at one end. "Just take it down there and line it up."

Charlie did as she asked, and when the row was straight, Melody gave him the okay to put his stake into the ground. Then she went to the back of the house and took up a box. When she returned, she placed it on the ground near the new row.

"I have seeds, so we'll need to trench it out under the line and then plant them." A rumble of thunder sounded from afar. "Guess we'll need to get it done quickly."

"You plant, and I'll come behind and cover them up," Charlie offered.

Melody nodded and went to work. They had the row taken care of in no time at all and moved on to the next and a new package of seeds. By the time it started to sprinkle, they had planted most of the seeds and a few of the plants.

"I could never have managed without you, Charlie. Where did you learn so much about gardening? I figured you probably grew up in luxury and gardening was something done by servants."

"Well, you're right about my life being one of ease and wealth, but my mother loved to garden, especially herbs and flowers. We had a head gardener named Ezra. I liked talking to the man and hearing his stories. He came from free black folks, and yet they suffered much the same as people in slavery. My folks were good to him and treated him as a valued member of the family and cherished employee. My father, although not as strong in his faith as my mother is, always referenced the Bible saying, ‘The worker is worth his wage.' He paid his staff better than most, and our help always stayed on rather than leaving in search of greener pastures."

"And Ezra taught you to garden?"

"He did. I learned a great deal from him." Charlie grinned. "So if I ever do have a home of my own, I'll be able to fix up a suitable garden and raise my own crops."

She laughed. "You do surprise, Charlie Decker."

"In a good way, I hope."

Melody nodded. "In a very good way."