Destiny's Bride (2 page)

People clustered around the boarding house proprietress and her nephew.  Obviously, not everyone shared her father’s haughty opinion of the woman and her establishment.  A voice interrupted further pondering, and she glanced up into the face of a nervous looking young man. “May I have this dance?”

Painfully aware she might miss the opportunity to connect with Walt if she accepted the invitation, she bent and rubbed her ankle. “I do appreciate the offer, but I seem to have injured myself during the last dance.”

Her would-be suitor’s expression sagged into sadness and as he turned away, Cecile dealt with a momentary pang of guilt until she considered the benefit of her little white lie. She was free to dance with Walt, and that was all that mattered.

***

Walt straightened from placing pies on the table and was immediately besieged with extended handshakes from his aunt’s friends. While he politely acknowledged each, he scanned the hall, intent on finding that familiar face in the crowd.

He spied her. There, sitting across the room. God, what a beauty.

Even covered with food, as she had been when they met, she held the prize for the prettiest girl he’d seen in all his travels. He’d planned to ask Aunt May for a loan and be on his way, but after meeting Cecile, his plans changed to hang around long enough to attend the dance...of course, at his aunt’s urging, not for any other reason.  He stifled a chuckle.

Life experiences had taught him the appreciation of having a home. After his mother passed, Walt worked with his father to try to make a success of their small plot of land. With his father’s failing health and no money coming in, the bank called back its note, and the Williams lost their farm. The memories, still fresh and painful, made him all the more determined to make a home for himself and settle down.

Although he’d met many women in his travels, he never stayed in one place long enough for a lasting relationship. He’d been in loud and crowded towns, and ones so small it seemed only those who lived there knew they existed. He’d signed on for countless cattle drives, ridden for the Pony Express, and even served as foreman for a wealthy ranch owner in Colorado, but never had Walt met a gal who stirred anything other than a casual interest.

He supposed he’d broken some hearts, or at least disappointed a few women, but until three days ago, not one female had grabbed his attention like the auburn-haired beauty with the green eyes. After all he’d done and seen in his lifetime, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so awkward at the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with her. Perhaps because he hadn’t danced in a very long time. The last, to the best of his recollections, was a waltz with his ma at a harvest festival much like the Spring Fling.

The sound of music drew him back to his present surroundings, making him realize his insides shivered at asking Cecile to dance. The thought of holding her close made his palms sweat.

Great!

What kind of impression was he going to make when he walked up and offered her lovely hand his clammy one? He pushed the disturbing thought aside, swiped his palms on the sides of his pant legs and sauntered in her direction. He be damned if he let her leave this time without asking a whole lot more questions.

***

From beneath her lashes, Cecile saw him approaching, though she pretended not to notice. Her breath caught in her throat as he neared.

“May I have this dance?”

His husky voice brought chills to the back of her neck, and she realized she had sprung to her feet before even verbalizing her acceptance.

Thank goodness the musicians played a waltz. Being held in his arms seemed like a dream; everything she’d fantasized about for the past few days was coming true. She peered over to where her girlfriends gathered, hoping they’d noticed. Meanwhile her mind spun, trying to think of something to say to him, but she decided not to spoil the moment by making idle conversation. She longed to rest her head on his wide shoulder and lean the length of her body against his but propriety held her back.

His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer, yet maintaining a proper space between them. The ripple of muscles beneath her hand and the masculine smell of his clean, cotton shirt stirred feelings new to her—her stomach clenched with excitement when she noticed her friends watching.

If only time would stand still. But the song ended, and they stepped apart and applauded.

“Would you mind if we sat?” she asked, feeling a little giddy and unsteady on wobbly legs.

He agreed, and placing his hand on her elbow, guided her back to her chair. “Can I fix you a plate?” he politely inquired.

She tried to read his face, tell from his body language if he liked her, but images of sitting on the sidewalk, covered in food, flashed before her eyes. Despite her stomach’s hungry rumblings, she declined with a shake of her head. “But thank you anyway.”

Walt sat in the chair next to hers and leaned forward on his knees.  “You left so quickly the other day; I didn’t have a chance to find out much about you.”

“I think I mentioned that I’m Cecile Palmer, and if I remember correctly, you’re Walt Williams.” Her lips quivered, wanting to curl into a smile at her feigned dispassion. How could she forget his name? She’d only said it a thousand times since meeting him.

With each dance, their conversation flowed. As the evening progressed, she learned more about his life. Aunt May, his only surviving relative, was helping him secure a loan to purchase the piece of land he wanted more than anything else. He intended to build his own cattle ranch and realize a life-long dream. She liked the determined set to his jaw and sensed he meant business.  Her mind painted pictures of the acreage he described, associating beauty, serenity and lushness with the image she imagined.  What a beautiful place it must be.

With Walt at her side, no other young men approached her, and when the band finished the final song, the last note struck a sour note of disappointment in her chest.

Walt held her at arm’s length and dropped his hands to applaud the musicians again.  The warmth from his embrace pooled from her core and puddled at her feet. When the clapping died down, he locked gazes with her. “Thank you so much for this wonderful evening. Would it be all right if I call on you before I leave town?”

“Yes, of course.” She responded quickly, and then mentally chastised herself. Toning down her eagerness wasn’t easy given the happiness plucking at her heartstrings. She absolutely refused to think about him leaving Silver City.

“So, Miss Palmer,” he intruded on her thoughts, “after my appointment tomorrow, maybe I’ll have some good news to share with you.”

Her spreading smile faded, giving way to dread. Walt was about to discover her father ran the local bank. Notorious for his serious nature, and for glaring over his spectacles at anyone who displeased him, Harvey Palmer deemed no one good enough for his daughter. The thought hadn’t concerned her until now. Perhaps she should speak with him before he met with Walt. No, then Father would know she had an interest in the man. She grimaced at the prospective outcome. Saying nothing seemed the best option.

Across the room, she caught sight of her father motioning to her. When he looked away, she stood on tiptoes and quickly bussed Walt’s cheek.  If Harvey Palmer witnessed such boldness, she’d no doubt get a lengthy lecture on public brazenness. In her opinion the kiss was worth the punishment, but there was no use putting Walt’s loan in jeopardy. She bid her dance partner goodnight and crossed the room to join her parents for the walk home.

At the hitching rail outside the hall, horses nickered as the Palmers walked by. The co-mingled smells of honeysuckle and fresh horse manure wafted in a steady, mild breeze, but even the overpowering aroma couldn’t spoil such a perfect evening. A million stars twinkled overhead, and her step reflected the lightness of her heart. With no desire for the night to end, Cecile paused to rub the nose of an old mare tethered to a covered buggy.  Up ahead, her mother’s voice elevated in laughter, and Cecile hurried to catch up before Father scolded her for dawdling.

Harvey Palmer’s heavy footsteps shivered the planks of the old walkway as the trio passed by the mercantile, heading for the end of
Main Street, where they lived. Lively laughter rang out behind them as the social hall emptied and others departed. A pang of melancholy plucked at Cecile, her sadness growing. The dance had ended far too soon for her liking.

“I notice that a particular young man monopolized most of your evening, Cecile. I didn’t recognize him. Who was he?”  Her father halted to light a cigar.

As expected, the conversation turned to the subject she dreaded discussing. She hesitated before answering, certain her father would find fault with Walt’s breeding. There was no use avoiding the topic. Tomorrow, when he met with Walt and his aunt about the loan, her father would learn the truth anyway. Why not show her interest in the mystery man?

“His name is Walt Williams, and he’s here visiting his aunt for a few days at her boarding house.” Cecile’s tone bordered on defensive.

She turned to her mother. “He’s really very nice. Can I invite him to Sunday supper, can I please, Momma, please, please?”

“Now, Cecile, I…”

“No! That wouldn’t be proper.” Her father expressed his opinion in a most resounding manner, leaving his wife with her mouth gaping. “After all, you’ve just met and we know very little about him.” With Father’s deep inhalation, the tip of his cigar flickered deep red.

Cecile considered begging her father to change his mind, but that’s what he expected. Instead she choked back her usual emotional outburst and cast a pleading look at her mother. The trio paused inside the gate of the picket fence surrounding their house.

“Now, Harve,” Mrs. Palmer said, gazing up at her husband, “there’s no better way to get to know a young man than to invite him for a meal. What harm can come from it? After all, Cecile is nineteen and old enough for us to trust her judgment. I think it’s a fine idea.”

Her father walked up on the porch and unlocked the door, mumbling something under his breath about Cecile being able to do much better. Usually, when she and her mother joined forces, he didn’t have a leg to stand on, but still Cecile crossed her fingers for luck as she joined him on the stoop. It only took puppy-dog eyes for him to relent.

Resisting the urge to jump up and down like a little girl, Cecile instead held her happiness in check. “Thank you, Father, I know you’ll really like him.” She used her most restrained voice, trying to display the maturity her mother had pointed out.

Inside, she kissed both parents goodnight and scurried upstairs. While changing into her nightclothes, she giggled over getting her father’s approval to invite Walt to dine. She jumped into bed and snuggled deep under the covers, almost too excited to sleep. Thoughts of dancing with him flashed through her mind, and she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to recapture the feeling of his embrace. When sleep finally came, her last conscious thought was of his deep blue eyes.

***

Walt halted the buggy in front of the boarding house and helped his aunt down. A single lamplight shone through the living room window of the white two-story structure, and even in moonlight, one could clearly see that the front yard was neatly trimmed. A shingle bearing “Rooms to Let” dangled over the door.

Walt heard little of Aunt May’s chattering on the ride home.  His was lost in thought about Cecile, still enjoying her sweet smell and the recollection of holding her in his arms.   With his mind elsewhere, he almost tripped over the black cat that darted past him on his way up the front steps. 

“It appears you thoroughly enjoyed the company you kept during the dance. You’ve barely spoken since we left.” Aunt May chuckled as Walt struggled to maintain his balance.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, opening the door. “And I wouldn’t mind keeping company with her on a regular basis.” He seriously hoped tomorrow would bring another opportunity to see Cecile. What was it about his need to see her again… to be with her? More importantly, was he good enough for her?

After escorting his aunt into the house, Walt went back outside to see to the horse and buggy. Aunt May stood in the doorway. “I’m calling it a night, dear,” she hollered out to him. “Don’t forget our very important appointment at eleven tomorrow. We don’t want to be late.”

“Nope, we’d better not keep the banker waiting.” Walt flashed a smile through clenched teeth.

Chapter Two

Walt opened the bank door and followed Aunt May to a large mahogany desk where a rather stern-looking man sat. Deep furrows in his brow indicated he didn’t smile very often, and the nameplate in front of him read Harvey Palmer, President.

Palmer? Cecile Palmer... were they related? The question zipped through his mind, but the man’s measuring look over the top of his glasses told Walt it wasn’t the appropriate time and place to make small talk, so he didn’t ask.

“Good morning, Mr. Palmer,” Aunt May said in a very authoritative voice. “This is my nephew, Walt Williams, and we’re here to see about a loan.”

Harvey Palmer offered her a chair and reached over his large desk and shook Walt’s hand. Walt took a seat next to his aunt.