The Bride Wore Blue (5 page)

V
ivian followed her brother-in-law Morgan up a floral-lined walk to the front door of Ida’s home. He cradled his infant daughter in his arms. Kat and Aunt Alma trailed them, talking about Cripple Creek’s ups and downs with the fires last year and the rebuilding of the business district.

A district that didn’t yet house a costume-design shop. But at least nearby Victor did.

White paint trimmed the red brick parsonage that sat behind the First Congregational Church, just up the hill from the center of town. Cheery columbines and primrose swayed in the building breeze. Clouds grayed the sky above.

Standing in the shadow of the church, Vivian stared at the white steeple as if pardon and some measure of faith might rub off in the viewing. She and God hadn’t always been at odds.

The front door whooshed open. The man who stepped out onto the small front porch had to be Tucker Raines. Nell had described her Judson’s blue eyes in nauseating detail in her first letter after their wedding. The man smiling at them from the porch better fit Ida’s description of her husband—broad-shouldered and brown-eyed.

“Vivian, I presume.” He gave her a warm smile and wrapped her in a welcoming embrace. “We’re so glad you’re finally here with us. Ida has told me much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you. She’s told me a fair amount about you too, Reverend Raines.”

His eyes widened. “We’re family. Call me Tucker.”

The ostrich feather in Aunt Alma’s hat swayed as she moved up the steps. “By the looks of things, Tucker, I’d say you’re still lifting big blocks of ice. No preacher I know has arm muscles like that.”

Ida, wrapped in a crocheted lavender shawl, stepped out onto the porch and squeezed her husband’s upper arm. Vivian recognized the tomfoolery sparking her sister’s blue eyes. “Tucker’s strapping physique has nothing to do with delivering ice, Aunt Alma. We can attribute it to his many attempts to push me back into line.”

Aunt Alma tittered. “I needn’t ask how he’s faring in that regard.”

Ida wagged a finger at her husband. He pretended to seal his lips.

Vivian laughed with them, fighting the knot in her midsection. The two brothers-in-law she’d met were wonderful. Attentive. Good-humored. Charming. And knowing Nell, Judson Archer was certain to be just as grand a husband.

Vivian took a big swallow of regret and pressed her hand to her throat. She would never forgive herself for destroying her chances for such a spellbinding love and marriage. How could she? Her married sisters would unknowingly serve as a constant reminder of what she’d given up.

Ida finished the introductions, glanced up at the dark clouds gathering overhead, and waved them inside. On the other side of the threshold, Ida took their summer wraps and hung them on a coat tree. “You still have one more brother-in-law to meet, Vivian. Judson
and Nell are in the kitchen. I’ll give you the full tour of our home after the meal.”

Vivian nodded and followed her oldest sister into a small kitchen that smelled like Sunday suppers back in Maine. Before Father left for Paris. When life was right.

At the cupboard, a trim man sliced a ham. Nell lifted a salad bowl out of an oak icebox. When she saw Vivian, she stopped and stared at her. “You’re really here in Cripple Creek.” The Edison bulb hanging in the center of the room lit the smile that widened Nell’s freckled face. “I was sure I’d imagined the whole afternoon—the carriage ride … tea at Hattie’s with you. All of it.”

“I know. While I hung my clothes in the wardrobe I pinched myself.” Vivian squeezed the sleeve on her red plaid shirtwaist. “But it’s true. I’m finally here.”

The man laid the knife on the platter and extended both hands to Vivian. “I’m Judson.” Nell was right about his vivid blue eyes. “Good to finally meet you, baby sister.”

Vivian bristled but accepted his hands. He’d meant it as a term of endearment, she told herself.

He studied her from shoe-tip to the curls atop her head. “A bit of a pipsqueak, but a solid grip and toes that can frustrate a bandit, from what I hear.”

Her timing perfect, Aunt Alma stepped into the kitchen and extended her hand to him. “I bumped against poor Vivian in all the excitement and knocked her off balance.”

“Aunt Alma. A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Judson slicked his wavy blond hair back from his broad forehead. “Your braids are every bit as bright as Nell described them. Like the cinnamon atop Kat’s applesauce.”

Ida had mentioned Judson’s tendency to be straightforward and outspoken, and he was true to the description. As well as attentive and good-humored.

“I say we eat while the food’s hot.” Ida poured a pan of peas into a fluted serving bowl.

They moved into the dining room. As soon as Tucker finished saying grace, Ida started the platter of ham around the table. Tucker plopped two thick slices onto his plate just as someone knocked on the door. “My apologies, but duty calls. Knocks, rather.” Standing, he laid his napkin on the chair.

Vivian had just sprinkled a pinch of salt over the vegetables on her plate when Tucker returned to the room. Whoever was at the door hadn’t followed him in.

“That didn’t take long.” Ida added peas to Tucker’s full plate.

“Deputy Alwyn came to speak with Vivian. He’s waiting in the parlor.”

Vivian glanced at the food on her plate, and then up at her brother-in-law. “Right now?”

“He said it has to do with the train robbery business.”

“Did you tell him we were eating our supper?”

Tucker nodded. “Said he wouldn’t keep you long.”

Sighing, Vivian pulled the napkin from her lap and dabbed her mouth. She reluctantly rose from her chair.

“I’ll show you the way to the parlor,” Tucker said.

“Thank you.”

Vivian followed him on the same path she’d taken with Ida, but it seemed a greater distance to the entryway knowing Deputy Alwyn awaited her. Water dripped onto the pine flooring beneath a light
overcoat and a black cowboy hat that hung on the hall tree. Worn, wet boots slouched on the floor beside the puddle.

Tucker stopped at an open doorway, motioning for Vivian to enter a small sitting room off the entryway.

Deputy Alwyn gazed at her from where he stood in front of a brick hearth. “Miss Sinclair.”

“Deputy.” She dipped her chin in greeting, trying not to stare at his stocking feet.

He ran a hand through his hair, the color of a wet pine cone. A limp towel lay on the bricks behind him. Had he been drying his hair?

Her brother-in-law slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “I can remain, if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vivian said.

A deep breath swelled Carter’s chest tight against a black shirt.

Tucker’s brown eyes glimmered with amusement. “Very well, then, I’ll leave you two to your business.” He turned, then looked back over his shoulder. “You’ve had a long day, Carter. Can we set a plate for you? ”

“Been too busy to think about food. That is, until I walked through your door and got a whiff of fine cooking.” The deputy glanced at her, an eyebrow cocked, as though seeking permission.

“ ‘The more the merrier,’ my father used to say,” Vivian said.

“Yes, thank you.” The deputy seemed to be answering Tucker’s question, but he didn’t shift his gaze from her.

When Tucker left the room, Vivian walked to the sofa and sat at the end closest to the fireplace. The deputy with the distracting wet hair pushed the soggy towel to one side and lowered himself to the raised brick hearth.

“I heard you and a posse went looking for the men responsible for the robbery,” Vivian said.

“We did. Didn’t find them, but before the storm hit we did find their trail and the cash box.”

“Good.” Any conversation skills she’d learned in Miss Brighton’s School for Girls seemed to have vanished. Vivian folded her hands in her lap.

“I apologize for interrupting your family meal,” Deputy Alwyn said. “I went to the boardinghouse to speak with you, and Miss Hattie told me you were here.”

Rain pelted the window behind the sofa, and flames snapped and popped behind the deputy, ticking off awkward moments of silence. Vivian tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

He cleared his throat. “You said the man with the cash box glared at you, growled at you.”

Vivian nodded. Gooseflesh shimmied up her arms and neck at the memory.

“That had to be frightening.”

She hadn’t let herself think about it. She’d managed to keep busy visiting with her sisters and unpacking her trunk. But now that he had labeled the experience what it was—frightening—she recalled the image of the bandit glaring at her, and tears pricked her eyes. Blinking them away, she offered the deputy another nod.

His dark eyes transformed into pools of pure compassion that made her thankful she was seated.

“I didn’t expect such a rugged welcome to Colorado,” she said.

“You’re safe now.”

She hoped so. At least her feet were firmly planted on the ground. A train car left her with nowhere to run.

He suddenly straightened and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. Her pencil, freshly sharpened. “Thank you, again, for the loan.”

“Of course.” Accepting the pencil, Vivian couldn’t help staring at the drop of water poised on the tip of a curl at his forehead. “Did you have more questions for me?”

“Uh, yes. One. I know you’ve had a long day yourself, and several of them on the train, but would you be willing to meet with a sketch artist tomorrow in my office?”

“That’s what I do.”

His mouth dropped open, revealing a row of straight teeth. “You’re a sketch artist for wanted posters? ”

Vivian giggled. “No. I mostly sketch costumes.”

He glanced down at his sodden denims and stocking feet.

She forced herself to suppress another round of giggles. “I sketched the men’s coats and hats and such. The ones from the train.”

“You did?”

“I have them at the boardinghouse.”

“I think we’ll focus on the facial features for now.” He stood, and Vivian rose from the sofa. “Say ten o’clock tomorrow in my office on Bennett Avenue?”

“Aunt Alma and I will be there.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind me joining your family for supper?”

“I don’t mind.”

A different fact she did mind. Disliked, actually. She’d glimpsed a certain charm just beneath the lawman’s gruff exterior. Even a bit of attentiveness and good humor. All of which made him likable.

Not that it mattered. Given her track record with men, it would be in her best interest to avoid him. And she would … after tomorrow’s appointment.

A
dmiring the snowcapped peaks that towered over the valley, Vivian drew in a deep breath of fresh air. A meadowlark warbled a sunny song as she passed another street lined with houses boasting lush flower gardens. Savoring the sun’s warmth on her back, she strolled down the hill from Golden Avenue with Aunt Alma at her side.

Aunt Alma snagged Vivian’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Monday will be here too soon, and, well, I’m going to miss you.”

“I know. I’ll miss you too.” And she would, just not to the same degree. “I’m not alone here.”

Her aunt nodded and dabbed her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

Following Miss Hattie’s directions, Vivian turned right at Bennett Avenue, away from the depot, and stepped up onto the wooden boardwalk. She was thankful Aunt Alma had turned down Miss Hattie’s offer of her carriage so she could enjoy her new surroundings and give her limbs a good stretching.

While crossing Third Street, Vivian dodged a mud puddle, a remnant of last evening’s downpour. The unbidden image of Carter Alwyn standing in front of the fireplace, his hair wet and his smile wide, sprang
to her mind. That image and the one of him sitting on the raised brick hearth, looking at her with eyes full of compassion and concern, were ones she’d best not withdraw from her bank of memories again. Better that she recall his condescending tone when he referred to her as “young lady.”

Vivian and her aunt returned the smiles and greetings of passersby. The people were friendly and the mountains glorious. This place may suit her just fine while she worked to make a name for herself.