The Rancher's Temporary Engagement

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The dressmaker glanced up from her work. “Is that so? I hadn’t heard the gossip that he was courting anyone.”

“It all happened rather fast.”

Ms. Glasen rose to her feet. “I’m finished pinning this one. I have one other gown that may fit you with little to no alterations. Mrs. Druitt decided she didn’t think the purple color would suit her daughter after all.”

“Does that happen often?” Maggy stepped off the wooden box she’d been standing on.

“Now and then,” the other woman admitted. “But I think the dark purple hue will look lovely with your auburn hair.”

She disappeared through a door in the back of the shop and returned a few moments later with another trailing gown. Maggy suppressed a groan. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her favorite trousers and shirt!

After accepting the dress, Maggy slipped behind the dressing screen and carefully traded the royal blue dress for the purple. Unlike the first one, this second gown felt more fluid. She did the buttons up the front, then stepped out to show the dressmaker.

“Ah, yes.” Smiling, Ms. Glasen nodded. “That’s the perfect color for you and the fit is exactly right, as well.” She stepped away from the floor-length mirror, giving Maggy a full view of herself.

And the view startled her.

She couldn’t say for sure that the color enhanced her hair, but the woman staring back at her looked more than confident and determined. She looked almost...beautiful. It was a notion Maggy had never allowed herself to consider before.

Tears burned her eyes as she glanced away, blinking rapidly. “It’s a lovely dress. I’ll take it, along with the royal blue one and the others we discussed.” Ms. Glasen would be making an additional eight dresses for her.

“Wonderful.” The woman beamed again. “I’ll have the royal blue one ready for you to pick up tomorrow and the others next week. Are you staying in town?”

Maggy shook her head as she ducked back behind the screen. “No,” she called over the fabric partition. “I’m staying at Edward’s ranch. My chaperone fell through at the last moment, but we decided with his housekeeper and staff around and me staying in the small guest house, that all would be right and proper.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to make the drive into town tomorrow, too.”

She traded the purple dress for one of her old ones, hanging the other over the screen for Ms. Glasen to wrap. “Not a problem. I enjoy driving a buggy and the countryside is quite beautiful.”

She finished dressing and stepped back into the room. The lovely gown had sidetracked her a bit from probing for more information, and now it was nearly time to leave.

“I wonder what gossip will be shared about me.” She feigned a light laugh. “Being without a real chaperone and now engaged to Edward.”

The dressmaker paused in wrapping up the purple gown. “I imagine the local ranchers’ wives will be a bit surprised.” A hint of pain flickered through her gaze. “They do enjoy new people and topics to discuss.”

Maggy could easily guess what the woman hadn’t admitted—Ms. Glasen had at one time been the source of gossip herself. “Is that who shares all the gossip? The local ranchers’ wives?”

“Mostly, yes.” She tied a string around the paper-wrapped parcel. “They have a rather exclusive club that holds weekly tea meetings.”

“Oh?” Edward had been right! “Do you belong to their club?”

Ms. Glasen shook her head, another trace of sorrow flitting across her young face. “No. You must be married or engaged to one of the local ranchers to join.”

“Who is in charge of this club?”

“Mrs. Dolphina Druitt,” the dressmaker replied in a slightly flat tone.

This was a new and potentially important piece of information. Mrs. Druitt was the same woman who hadn’t liked the purple dress for her daughter. Maggy would need to see what Edward knew about Mr. Druitt. Did he hold the same authority among the men that his wife seemed to hold among the women?

Keeping her countenance impassive, she asked, “Do you think Mrs. Druitt and the club would accept me into their ranks?”

The dressmaker extended the package toward Maggy. “I don’t see why not. You meet their engaged or married requirement. Of course,” she continued in a tone that hinted at more hidden pain, “if for whatever reason you chose not to marry Mr. Kent, you would be asked to leave.”

It wasn’t difficult for Maggy to piece together Ms. Glasen’s untold story. The woman had likely been engaged to someone and therefore part of the local women’s club, but when she or her fiancé ended the betrothal, the dressmaker had been banished from the group.

She felt a strange desire to offer the woman a measure of comfort. Not as part of a mission or a disguise but as herself. What could she say though?

“Tea meetings sound a bit boring for my tastes,” she admitted with full honesty into the tense silence of the shop.

Ms. Glasen’s tight expression relaxed and her lips curved upward. “I think they’re dull too. Although, the club does host an annual ball every summer that everyone is invited to and that is rather nice.”

The summer ball. Maggy had forgotten. “That does sound lovely. Perhaps I ought to have a ball gown made, as well.”

“I haven’t made a ball gown in ages for someone new.” The dressmaker went to the counter and grabbed up a stack of magazines. Turning back, she eyed Maggy carefully. “I think I know just the thing to make you shine.”

Maggy didn’t want to shine; she wanted to solve this case. Used to staying deliberately hidden in the background, it went against the grain to draw attention to herself. But, this could very well be a means to the end of finding the saboteurs.

She followed Ms. Glasen toward a pair of armchairs. Perhaps it was also a way to help out an unmarried female entrepreneur like herself. As she took a seat beside the dressmaker and watched the woman’s face brighten with enthusiasm, Maggy felt a glimmer of satisfaction that surprisingly had nothing to do with detective work this time.

* * *

With his left foot resting on his right knee, Edward hoped he looked the picture of casualness, though inside, he felt only agitation. He didn’t like being idle, at least not during the workday, even if it was important to outfit Maggy for her role as his fiancée. The other reason behind his uneasiness was the two ranchers seated near him on the long porch of the Sheridan Inn—the younger of which, Gunther Bertram, happened to be one of the ranchers Maggy suspected of sabotaging the Running W.

“Did you enjoy that equestrian book?” Edward asked as he swiveled to look at Bertram. “The one I loaned you a while back?”

While Maggy was busy with her new wardrobe, Edward had opted to walk over to the inn to see if he could get a head start on their investigation. It was more than fortunate that Bertram happened to be one of the men seated out front when he’d walked up.

Bertram cleared his throat. “It was good, real good.”

“You’re welcome to borrow another.”

Did he only imagine the slight paling of the man’s face? “Real nice of you, Kent. I’ll...uh...” Another clearing of his throat filled in his pause. “I’ll have to do that.”

“How are your horses this year, Kent?” Nevil Druitt, the other rancher, asked.

Edward threw him a confident smile, one that wasn’t forced. Between the Cavalry’s interest and Maggy’s help, he was feeling more assured. “The ranch is doing well. And yours?”

“Never better.” Druitt swiped a bandanna across his brow and balding head, his vest pushed to its limits by his rounded middle. “Heard from Harry at the livery that some woman came to visit you. A relation of yours?”

Bertram smirked. “Who else would it be? It isn’t like Kent is interested in settling down. Not that I blame you one bit,” he added. “Women are just plain trouble.”

“Now, hold on there, son,” Druitt said in a placating tone. “When you find the right woman, you’ll think differently.”

Edward lowered his foot to the porch floorboards. “Actually the young woman who came to visit is my fiancée. Her name is Maggy Worthwright.”

He wasn’t sure who looked more shocked at his news—Bertram or Druitt. The latter recovered more quickly, though. “Well, look at that. What’d I just say about finding the right woman? Kent here apparently has. Where’s your little lady from?”

“Colorado.” That was where the Pinkerton office was located, and he thought he remembered Maggy saying something at dinner last night about living there.

Druitt’s eyebrows shot upward. “How’d you meet then? Is she one of those mail-order brides?”

“No.” Edward shook his head. “We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance, which was followed by a rather whirlwind courtship.” Of one and a half hours, he thought wryly as he recalled Maggy’s shocking proposal and then his own to prevent them from living a lie.

Bertram regarded him as if he thought Edward completely mad. Time would only tell if that proved true. “What’d you go and get engaged for, Kent? I didn’t think you’d be sticking...” He shot a look at Druitt and let the rest of his question fade out.

“You didn’t think I’d be sticking to what?” Edward asked.

Shaking his head, his face now inflamed instead of colorless, Bertram jumped to his feet. “I just remembered I promised the saddle maker I’d take a look at some of his new saddles. See you boys on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday,” Druitt echoed. “Suppose I’d best be getting on myself if I want to avoid Dolphina’s scolding.” He stood, as well.

Edward nodded; he could easily imagine his late father saying something similar about his mother. At least nagging wasn’t something Maggy seemed inclined toward. She might be satirical and stubborn, but she wasn’t badgering.

“Will you be bringing your fiancée to dinner on Saturday?” the older rancher asked.

Edward rose to his feet. “Yes. I believe she might also like to join that ladies’ club.” He pretended to try to recall more information. “I think it’s the one that the other ranchers’ wives and sweethearts are members of.”

“I’m sure they’d welcome her warmly.” Druitt pocketed his bandanna. “A prosperous ranch and a wife-to-be? Congratulations, Kent. You’re doing well for yourself.”

The words sounded admiring, but Edward wondered at their sincerity. “Thank you,” he acknowledged with a nod. “I’m looking forward to what the future holds and seeing the ranch prosper even more.”

Druitt smiled. “Wonderful to hear. We’ll see you and Miss Worthwright on Saturday.”

Watching him slowly walk to his horse, Edward frowned. Bertram had definitely acted strangely, but Edward couldn’t say for certain about Druitt. He didn’t know the older rancher well. How many men were involved in the plot against his ranch? Who were the real culprits and who weren’t? His jaw clenched with frustration at not knowing the answers, but he fought to relax it. One way or the other, he’d figure things out. Or rather, he and Maggy would figure them out. Because the alternative, where the wrongdoers won, was unthinkable.

* * *

Maggy tightened the twine she’d used to secure her pile of hatboxes and packages in the shallow compartment behind the buggy seat. She eyed her handiwork with satisfaction as she brushed her hands free of flecks of string and dust.

“We might have procured some rope for you at the livery stable or the saddle shop.”

She turned to face Edward, her hands settling on her hips. “Now why would we do that when I figured out my own ingenious solution?” She moved toward the driver’s side of the buggy. “Besides, if I have to enter one more shop this morning, I’m liable to scream.”

“That miserable, huh?” He moved to stand next to her, his hand rising to lightly grip her elbow. Instead of helping her up as she’d expected, though, he tugged her back to the ground and steered her around the buggy.

Maggy frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you into your side of the buggy,” he murmured before offering a polite smile to some passerby.

“What do you mean my side—”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “It wouldn’t look proper for you to be driving me around town, Maggy.”

“No?” It came out far more yielding than she’d wanted, but Edward’s nearness had a sudden and peculiar effect on her ability to think or reason. Standing this close, she could see his eyes weren’t entirely gray in color. There was a slight blue hue to them as well. She could also smell the pleasant scent of soap and grass that clung to him.

Summoning her fortitude to stay focused and unaffected, she pulled her arm free and scaled the buggy herself. “Fine, you can drive,” she muttered, though loud enough that he would hear.

Edward chuckled as he circled the vehicle and climbed onto the seat beside her. Did his laughter mean he thought her amusing, or was he entertained by the affect his close proximity had on her?

“I’ll let you drive once we’re out of town...” He held up his hand when she started to thank him. “But only if you can act with decorum until then.”

Maggy smiled fully at him and linked her arm through his. “Why, I’m the picture of decorum!”

His laughter came again as he guided the horse and buggy into the street. “Of course.”

“I am,” she countered, nodding cordially to a woman and her young daughter walking along the street. “I got everything I needed for my wardrobe and some new information to boot, too.”

He flicked his gaze to hers. “What did you find out?”

“Well...” Maggy let the word hang there to draw out the suspense. “I learned from the dressmaker Ms. Glasen that the wives’ club is run by a woman named Dolphina Druitt. Ms. Glasen also confirmed that as your fiancée, I can join.”

Edward gave a thoughtful nod. “I was doing a bit of investigating myself.”

“You were?” She stared at him in surprise. Even in cases where people desperately wanted something to go their way, they typically still left everything up to Maggy—the questioning, the disguises, the clue gathering. This was the first time in her career that she’d worked with a partner, so to speak. “What did you learn?”

“Well...” he said, letting the word hang between them as she’d done.

She elbowed him in the side. “Very funny. What did you find out?”

“All right.” Frustration replaced the amusement on his face. “It wasn’t so much what I learned as what I observed.”

Maggy couldn’t help throwing him an admiring glance. “That’s something even new detectives don’t catch on to soon enough.”

“Are you admitting I’m proficient at sleuthing, too?” A rather attractive smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

She glanced away, her answering laugh a bit forced. “I don’t know about that. I think it all depends on what you observed.”

“I went by the inn and one of your—our—suspects was there. Gunther Bertram.”

“Ah-ha.” She sat up straighter. “What did he say?”

Edward shifted the reins in his grip. “It was more his mannerisms that struck me as odd. I asked him about the book I had loaned him. When I suggested he could borrow another, he appeared uncomfortable.”

“What do you mean?” More details might help them understand if Bertram’s behavior was truly suspicious or not.