* * *
Minutes later, Mary Alexander was standing on a box in the bedroom of her tiny cabin near the schoolhouse, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The face staring back at her showed the strain of the last few days and the look in her brown eyes expressed her sense of foreboding. Several times during the last few days, she had been tempted to cry off. But her cowardice stopped her. Pelham Cosgrove was the only man who had ever thought to offer her marriage, and Mary was very much afraid no one else ever would because she was part Cherokee Indian. She knew it wasn’t the best reason to marry, but it was reason enough. After all, Pelham didn’t love her any more than she loved him.
That was the problem, she told herself over and over. They didn’t love each other. That was why she was plagued with uneasy feelings and doubts. She was about to exchange her safe, secure, well-loved existence and walk into the unknown with a man she hardly knew. And not for love—but for the sake of her cowardice and his convenience. Mary bit her bottom lip and gazed at her reflection. Marriage was a lifelong pledge, and suddenly Mary wasn’t completely sure she wanted to tie herself to Pelham Everhardt Cosgrove III for even a day—much less the rest of her life.
She sighed. Her daydreams of marriage had been so much more pleasant than the reality. In her daydreams, she fell in love and married a man who loved her—one who also loved the ranch as much as she did. In her daydreams, her husband moved into her cabin with her and they lived and loved and worked and raised their family on the Trail T. But her intended had other plans. He wanted to live in Cheyenne, and soon Mary would be legally and spiritually bound to follow him into the city—leaving behind her job, her family home, her parents, grandparents, brothers, cousins, nieces and nephews, and everyone else who lived on the ranch.
Mary frowned at her image in the silvered glass as she thought of all the upcoming changes. She would miss her loved ones, and the familiar confines of her cabin, but she would miss her job as schoolmistress to the ranch’s children most of all. Pelham didn’t want her to work, and had flatly refused to discuss the possibility of her riding the five miles out to the ranch every day to continue teaching. Nor would he consider allowing her to teach in Cheyenne. Mary sighed.
So Pelham Everhardt Cosgrove III was a bit rigid and set in his ways. So what? He was punctual, reliable, and hardworking. He would go far with the Cheyenne Stockholders’ Bank. So what if his kisses didn’t set her heart racing? Mary reached up and thoughtfully traced the line of her bottom lip with one finger. Hadn’t Pelham told her that the reason he didn’t want her to continue teaching was that he wanted to start a family right away? Soon she would have children of her own to teach, and wasn’t that what she really wanted? She should count herself lucky that Pelham was, in his words, willing to overlook her unfortunate lineage. If only she could convince herself of that before the wedding.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Mary looked around and caught Tessa’s worried expression. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Maybe because you don’t look very happy,” Tessa Alexander answered bluntly.
Mary turned back to the mirror. “What gives you that idea? I think the dress is splendid. Mrs. Russo has outdone herself.” She fingered the white lace and satin folds of her wedding dress, twisting this way and that, viewing the gown from different angles. “It’s turned out very well. I’m pleased with my choice.”
Tessa took a deep breath. At times Mary reacted just like her older brother, David, hiding her feelings with meaningless conversation. But in the four months since she had married Mary’s brother, Tessa had learned to get straight to the heart of David’s concerns, and she was equally confident she could do the same with Mary. “We’re not questioning your taste in clothes,” she said. “We’re questioning your choice of a husband.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
Mary whirled around at the sound of another voice answering and came face to face with Faith. “You too?”
Faith nodded. She had come west as Reese Jordan’s bride nearly four years ago and now made her home with Reese and the girls—Faith’s eight-year-old sister Joy, and their three-year-old daughter, Hope—on the Trail T Ranch. Although the Jordans technically owned the ranch, Reese’s father had followed Cherokee tradition and welcomed his wife’s family onto his land and the Trail T had become home to all the members of the Jordan-Alexander clan.
Tessa Roarke had joined the family just four months ago when she married David Alexander, and Faith and Tessa had become the sisters Mary had never had—her dearest friends, staunchest supporters, and closest allies…until now.
Faith spoke up first. “I’m sorry, Mary, we don’t mean to hurt you, but somebody had to come out and say what we’ve all been thinking.” She watched as Mary gave Tessa an accusatory glance. “There’s no call for you to be upset with Tessa. She speaks for all of us. We love you.”
“I see,” Mary replied dryly. “You question my judgment because you love me.”
“Yes,” Faith answered. “Because we’re worried about you.”
“Are you?” Mary arched an eyebrow and turned to Tessa. Tessa recognized the gesture. She’d seen David raise his eyebrow that way at witnesses in the courtroom when he doubted their sincerity.
“You know we are. Why shouldn’t we be worried? This is all so sudden. How long have you known Pelham Cosgrove III?”
“Long enough.”
“How long?” Tessa demanded. “Two weeks? Three?”
“Longer than you knew David before you married him,” Mary countered.
“Our situation was different,” Tessa protested.
Mary arched her eyebrow once again. “Was it?”
“You know it was,” Tessa answered gently. “David and I married because we loved each other.” She met Mary’s brown-eyed gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “I don’t think you can say the same about you and Mr. Cosgrove.”
“Stop right there,” Mary warned as a rush of tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to overflow. She looked to Faith for support.
“Tell us you love him,” Faith whispered.
Mary looked at Faith and Tessa and saw the concern in Faith’s solemn gray eyes and Tessa’s bright green ones, and the identical worry lines wrinkling their foreheads. “You two are the sisters I never had. Why can’t you trust me? Why can’t you and David”—Mary glanced at Tessa, then at Faith—“and you and Reese just wish me well?”