Finding a woman in the States who would not only accept, but flourish with more than one husband was hard to do. All the men of Bridgewater practiced the lifestyle of one wife, many husbands, and more than a few had found their perfect matches. True, the courtship wasn’t always conventional, but every couple he knew were obviously happy and deeply in love. He wanted that. Wanted to have a wife to shower with affection, wanted a woman to share with his best friend. Someone to hold between them on cold nights, a female presence in the home that would bring it to life.
Edward stood shoulder to shoulder with Garrett as they both looked down on her sleeping form.
“I never thought the stories about knowing she’s the one were true,” Edward said as he glanced up at Garret, his blue eyes flashing with emotion. “Tell me, do you feel it?”
Relief filled Garrett as he nodded, glad he wasn’t the only one who was drawn to the little golden beauty snuggled in his bed. “Aye, I feel it as well. Do you think she’s the one?”
“Do you?”
There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Garret’s gut or heart as he said, “Absolutely.”
“Too bad we don’t even know her name,” Edward sighed.
The young woman moaned softly in her sleep, her legs restless. Laying a hand on her brow Garret frowned as he felt the heat beginning to build beneath her skin. With the dirt washed from her face by the doctor and the hotel maid, he could see the older and fresh bruises marring her delicate bones. Compared to him, she really was a tiny thing, and he marveled that God trusted him with such a fragile beauty.
“She’s so dainty,” Garret murmured as he stroked back a piece of her hair sticking to the side of her face. “A woman like this should be cherished and sheltered. Like a butterfly.”
“But also incredibly strong,” Edward said as he answered the knock on the door, admitting a maid wheeling a cart full of food into the room. “Thank you.”
The young woman gave the bed a couple curious looks, but she said nothing as she set out their supper and then left.
He was hoping the smell of food would rouse ‘Roger’ from her sleep and allow them to speak to her and convince her to come home with them. News had come from the west that snow was on the way, and they needed to get back to the ranch before the high roads through the hills became impassable. They were supposed to have left tonight with a wagonload of supplies, but it seemed God had other plans for them.
As they ate their dinner, they both kept watch on the sleeping young woman while speaking in low voices.
“Way I see it, we have two options,” Edward said, wiping the remains of his meal off with the brown cloth napkin. “We can either leave in the morning, bundle her up, and hope the journey doesn’t injure her further, or we can wait a few more days and pray the weather holds out and we don’t get stuck in a pass.”
Garret leaned back and crossed his legs as he said, “Least we have the covered wagon. One of us can stay back there with her while the other one drives the team.” Garrett reached over to his saddlebag, pulling out his well-used ivory pipe. “If the roads hold out, and we push the team, we should be able to make it to Dove Spring and Mrs. Tibbs Inn in a day, maybe a day and a half. We can have Dr. Tibbs take a look at her and give her a chance to rest. Bridgewater is only a few hours north from there, so we can rest at the Inn until the roads are safe enough for the wagon to travel on.”
“Put that thing away,” Edward said in a voice so deep Garret swore he felt the floor shake as he glared at the pipe. “Smoke is not good in a sickroom.”
“Fine, fine,” Garrett muttered as he shoved the pipe back in the hard, brown leather satchel.
Most people would look at Edward and assume he was a brawler, that he beat up five men for breakfast and another ten before lunch. While it was true Edward could be a brute on the battlefield, at his core, he was as kindhearted as any man Garret had ever met. Lady Uriel used to say that Edward was born with the body of a warrior, but the heart of a poet.
Walking over to the sleeping woman’s side, Edward let out a soft sigh. “She is so beautiful, as golden as the dawn, but also as fragile as a crystal dove.”
Staring out the window, Garret looked out into the still busy evening streets and the constant rumble of wagons to and from the slaughterhouses. There was a frosty nip to the air, so even the soiled doves selling themselves had covered up their assets with thick shawls. Resting his hand on the cold glass of the window, Garret mulled over what to do.
Edward’s voice carried over the snapping of the fire in the hearth as he said, “The big oak tree near our house put out a lot of acorns this year. You know that means a bitter winter is on the way. Not to mention the thick ruff the neighbor’s cattle are growing around their necks.”
Both Garret and Edward had been born into farming families and carried the superstitions of their fathers. “True. The sky felt heavy today, and I noticed on our ride out the squirrels were looking fat.”
“Indeed,” Edward grunted. “I fear if we stay here more than a few days, we might be stuck in Butte for a good while. We need to get back to our home and our flock. Besides,
