Chapter Two

Cottonwood Falls, Kansas

October 1880

Excitement bubbled over Olivia as the station came into view. From what she learned from listening to the other passengers, the town grew up around the arrival of the Union Pacific following the Civil War. The main road led past the station with several buildings on either side.

"So, this is Cottonwoods Falls." She sighed in relief and cleared a spot on the window to peer at the collection of wooden structures with their facades weathered by the seasons. Her gaze wandered from one structure to another, offering everything from barber services to a mercantile, a boarding house, and a café. So much different from the centuries-old buildings, cobblestone streets, and imposing brick mansions of Boston.

Throughout her journey, she lost herself in the daydreams of Cottonwood Falls and her prospective groom. Almost two months to the day after she'd paid a visit to Mrs. Crenshaw, she received her first letter from Nate Forester. A prosperous, hardworking cattleman, his first letter told her about his holdings, the house, the herd, and his yearnings for a family. Successive letters were full of Cottonwood Falls and his friends. In turn, she told him of her desire for a home filled with laughter and warmth and her love of sewing. As a bonus, she'd enclosed a small token, a dried daisy, its fragile white petals a reminder that affection could flourish even in the most unexpected of places.

Some months she received two or three letters; others, she might get only one. She had learned a great deal about Nate during their exchange. Yet, the tone of his letters changed when he began focusing more on acquiring more land and selling off the herd, believing it to be where his fortune lay. A niggling worry grew but she shoved the thought aside to face reality. There was nothing left for her in Boston.

Finally, in late August, the letter Olivia had been waiting for over the many months arrived. Nate had asked for her hand in marriage, stating he would send a train ticket and coin for her traveling expenses to Mrs. Crenshaw.

Yet, she wasn't na?ve about the challenges ahead. Nate had written about the loss of some cattle, failed crops, and damage from early spring twisters. But Olivia had faith the benefits would outweigh the risks.

Standing, she clutched her purse and carpetbag in one gloved hand and her Singer Fiddle Base sewing machine in the other as anticipation rose higher and higher in her heart. After most of the passengers had alighted, she moved into the aisle. The sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the occasional sound of horses' hooves the closer she got to the stairs.

Hopping onto the snow-swept platform with more agility than she expected from his advanced age, the conductor set out a wooden stool for Olivia. "Welcome to Cottonwood Falls, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat. As he helped her disembark, she tamped down an unexpected niggling pirouetting along her spine. Though she recognized no one, she was certain the moment she laid eyes on Nate Forester, she'd know. After all, she'd done little for the past five days but read his letters and stare at his photograph in her purse.

Though it was only October, the snapping wind carried the scent of snow and wood smoke from the buildings nearby. It seemed Milly Crenshaw's warning that winter often came to Kansas earlier than it sometimes did in Boston was, indeed, true. The cold air made her breath catch. But after days of riding in a grimy, soot-covered train, it was a blessing to be outside. Grateful for the flannel-lined hood, a gift from her friends at the Butterick Pattern Company, she tucked a few errant curls behind her ears and brushed at the cinders on the white fur trim. While some thought her crazy to marry a man she never met, a few voiced their approval, even going as far as to say it was romantic. The kindness of the gesture had touched her heart as she knew none of them could ill-afford to spend money on something so unnecessary.

She buttoned her woolen paletot up to her neck just as snowflakes landed on her lashes. This morning she'd managed to change into the most conservative of her four outfits, a simple blue wool tweed walking skirt and jacket. Now, though, it was hopelessly wrinkled. She sighed, unable to do much about it. But at least her coat might hide most of the creases.

A seamstress and dress pattern maker by trade with the Butterick Pattern Company, she was encouraged to wear the ensembles she'd created. Of course, she wasn't allowed to keep them as it was pointed out to her repeatedly that the patterns, the fabrics, and embellishments were the property of the company. However, she did manage to create a few outfits to start wedded life, in addition to her wedding dress, while boarding with Milly Crenshaw once Auntie Dee's house was sold.

At Milly's urging, Olivia fashioned simple skirts and dresses without a cuirass bodice reminding her that the corset—well- boned on the inside to ensure a perfectly straight smooth line under her dress—would hardly be practical for the wife of a farmer. Milly had also stressed that the long, heavy trains would be impractical, too, as well as the narrow skirts, making walking difficult.

Wagons passed, the horses' hooves and rattling wheels creaking beneath their weight. Folks came and went from the businesses lining the street. A few glanced in her direction, some even smiled, but no one approached her. A trio of cowboys crossed the platform, their heels thumping on the wood, their spurs jingling, keeping time with their gait. They paid her no mind. Nor did they resemble the daguerreotype Nate had sent. From what she could tell, he was tall and possessed a medium build with light hair and dark eyes. He'd also looked younger than she envisioned but perhaps the image had been taken years before.

Her doubts began to multiply as the minutes passed and her heart jumped into her throat. Had Nate forgotten she would be arriving today?

"Nate Forester, you best have a good explanation for keeping me waiting," she muttered under her breath. If this were any indication of what married life would be like, she and her prospective groom would have words.

After stowing her trunk in the baggage room, she gathered her satchel in one hand and her sewing machine in the other and tried to ignore the ribbons of doubt squeezing her heart. Had Nate already changed his mind and decided she wasn't suitable for his requirements? The funds he'd sent Milly Crenshaw for her trip were nearly depleted. At the most, she could afford a few nights in a boarding house or a few meals.

But not both.

Though she was weary, hungry, and admittedly frightened, a favorite quote from Aunt Dee's dog-eared Bible came to mind. I know the plans I have for you…plans for good and not for evil. Bits of ice and snow landed on her face and caught on her dark lashes, melting against her warm skin as she took a steadying breath.

Aided by a brisk wind, snowflakes swirled in the late morning air, but she could still see well enough as she surveyed the crowd on the platform, searching for a tall, slender man with dark hair. At twenty-eight years old, she wasn't given to flights of fancy about any man, but she got an unexpected flutter in her heart thinking of the photograph of Nate Forester tucked between his letters in her handbag.

Seeking much-needed reassurance, Olivia fingered the blue ribbon wrapped around his letters and his telegram stating he'd meet her at the train. She took in a fortifying breath before she stuffed them back into her reticule then moved to the ticket office window and tapped on the glass.

A young man of not more than seventeen or eighteen stepped to the opposite side of the window and slid the pane upward. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

She gave him her best smile, Auntie Dee's words floating through her mind. You can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. "I was wondering if Nate Forester left a message for me. My name is Olivia Talbot."

The clerk swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Forester?"

"Yes, sir." She clutched her reticule, sustained by the letters inside. "Mr. Nate Forester."

"Forester…Nate Forester?"

Olivia stepped closer to the window, wondering if the clerk had a hearing problem, and nodded.

"Why are you asking?" His voice wobbled as he glanced around.

Embarrassed enough that her groom-to-be had failed to show up and more than likely she'd be left at the altar, Olivia wasn't about to share personal matters with a stranger, but she needed help. "I was expecting him to meet me here," she said for the second time.

He slammed the window closed and hurried to a side door. What a peculiar reaction to a simple statement! A moment later, she saw him crossing the street and disappear inside a building in the middle of the block—a building with the words Sheriff's Office emblazoned in gold lettering on the front window.

Hoping to quell the host of butterflies fluttering in her middle, she wove her fingers together, pressing her hands to her ribs, and waited. Moments later, the clerk and a man wearing a silver star on his chest and a heavy winter coat strode in her direction. A frightening thought struck her just then.

Dear Lord, please don't let him be sitting in that jail.

The clerk scooted back inside his domain while the sheriff stopped directly in front of her.

"Sheriff Sam Wright." He gave a two-finger tap to the brim of his hat. "Willie says you're looking for Nate Forester. What do you want with him?"

His deep voice made the hair on the back of Olivia's neck stand on end. If the man thought to intimidate her with his position, stance, and the holster strapped to his leg, he was most assuredly wrong. Olivia was made of sterner stuff. She hadn't traveled fifteen hundred miles on a smelly, soot-covered train for days with few conveniences, and even fewer chances to consume a decent meal, only to find herself being interrogated by a nosy lawman.

"My name is Olivia Talbot, from Boston, Massachusetts. I've been corresponding with Mr. Forester for several months through the efforts of Mrs. Crenshaw of the Westward Homes and Hearts Matrimonial Agency . I expected him to meet me today..." her voice trailed off "…we were to be married. Would you have any idea where he might be?"

The sheriff's dark eyebrows shot up to his hairline and then descended. He stared at her for several moments, then blew out a breath. "For a fact, ma'am, I do know where he is, and unfortunately, he won't be marrying you today or any day." His gaze wandered briefly across the snow-covered street. When he faced her, his honey-brown eyes softened momentarily. "We laid him to rest a week ago."

Dead! This wasn't at all what she was expecting. She pressed a hand to her chest as if the motion could regulate her erratic pulse. "If it's not too presumptuous, how did he—"

"It's best we sit down," Sheriff Wright said, jutting his chin toward a bench near the ticket office. He gave her a kind smile as he picked up her valise and sewing machine in one large hand. She followed and took a seat, waiting for him to speak. "My aunt often said bad news travels faster than good. Out with it, Sheriff."

"Yes, ma'am." When he removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, she couldn't help but notice its longer length, the ends tipped in gold. "About ten days ago, we arrested a man claiming to be Nate Forester. My deputy is transporting him to the penitentiary at Lansing."

"Claiming to be Nate Forester?" She shook her head. "I don't understand. The man who's been writing to me…the man who asked me to be his wife…sent me a train ticket and money…is—"

"A fraud, and part of a gang of outlaws who place advertisements for wives in newspapers back East. When the women respond, they lure them out here with the promise of marriage. Unfortunately, they end up as…um…ladies of the evening," he finished, a momentary look of discomfort crossing his face. "But worse than that he's a killer."

Making a quick sign of the cross, Olivia closed her eyes, grateful she was already sitting. Upon hearing this, she was certain her legs wouldn't have supported her. "That could have been me? How did you discover this plan?"

"A few of the other sheriffs in the neighboring counties knew I'd been a U.S. marshal so we tracked them down. As it turned out, Nate Forester, your intended, and a successful rancher around these parts, was attacked three months ago. The ringleader assumed Nate's identity."

Doing a quick calculation, Olivia counted back to August, just about the same time the tone of Nate's letters shifted to something more bothersome. Something inside her shifted, further scattering her hopes for a new chapter of her life. Though a flash of wild disappointment ripped through her, she rigidly held her tears in check.

She would need to write to Mrs. Crenshaw informing her of the situation. The matchmaker certainly couldn't be blamed for the fix Olivia found herself in. Nor could the real Nate Forester. Both had agreed to the contract in good faith. She even understood that the sheriff wasn't to blame for the muddle she found herself in. Yet here she was. She had left Boston and all she knew, to start a new life in Cottonwood Falls.

The pain in her heart became a sick and fiery gnawing. Her teeth chattered and her body trembled more from despair than the fierce wind blowing snow onto the platform. Beside her, the sheriff cleared his throat. "Can I do something for you?"

Olivia shook her head and sniffed twice before she met his gaze, noticing his eyes weren't just brown. Shards of pearl and ash mingled with the green and brown produced a most mesmerizing effect. "Seeing as I have no one, no place to live, and I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, I doubt even you, Sheriff, could work a miracle."