Chapter Ten
IZZY HESITATED IN THE doorway to the dining room.
Fourteen women—no, fifteen, if she counted Tansy—filled the space around two large tables that had been pushed together.
“Isabella!” Tansy patted the empty chair next to her.
Izzy slid into the chair. The other ladies were already at work on quilt squares. Izzy had never made a quilt. She glanced around at the pieces on the table curiously. “What can I help with?”
Tansy handed her the square she’d been working on. “This one is already pinned. All you have to do is sew.”
Izzy gave her a grateful smile. Sewing in a straight line was something she could do. Tansy had told her earlier that the quilt was to be a gift for a recently married lady in town. Izzy didn’t know the recipient, but she was happy to be invited to this gathering all the same.
In between stitches, she looked around the room.
Edie Wright was seated at the far corner of the table next to Caroline Drexel, who ran the general store with her husband.
While Izzy was grateful for Edie’s friendship, she was also relieved.
She had the feeling that Edie was more curious about Izzy’s life in Wyoming than she let on.
“I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” the dark-haired woman next to Izzy said. “I’m Sophia Canton. My husband and I have a ranch outside of town.”
“I’m Isabella Darby,” Izzy said as she tied off her thread.
“Isabella recently married my brother,” Tansy supplied.
Sophia’s face lit up. “Oh! You’re the—” She cut herself off with a sheepish smile that made Izzy tilt her head in confusion. “You’re the one that half the unmarried girls in town are jealous of.”
Izzy raised her eyebrows. “They are?” Hale was awfully handsome. But if only they knew why she was here, they’d certainly have nothing to envy.
“Sophia is exaggerating,” Tansy said. “She’s been spending too much time out on that ranch.”
“I’m starved of gossip,” Sophia admitted.
Tansy and Sophia talked more of the ranch, and Izzy learned that Sophia’s husband was the son of the minister and his wife. But her mind began to wander as the conversation turned toward people and events she wasn’t familiar with.
She looked up to find Edie watching her. Izzy smiled at her new friend, and Edie lifted a hand in greeting.
“What made you choose to answer Mr. Darby’s advertisement, Isabella?” Sophia asked, drawing Izzy’s attention back to the conversation.
“Oh,” she said, surprised that yet another person knew of the circumstances of her marriage.
“Sophia was a mail-order bride too,” Tansy said.
“I had to leave home quickly,” Sophia said. “It was the only option I could see. Thank goodness it turned out well.”
“I suppose my story is much the same,” Izzy said.
“You didn’t mention that you had to leave quickly,” Tansy said, needle poised over her quilt square as she looked up at Izzy.
“Oh, well . . . I could no longer afford my room at the boardinghouse.” Izzy looked down at her own half-sewn quilt square. These half-truths were eating at her. Everyone here had been so welcoming and kind, and she was repaying them by keeping so much to herself.
Tansy nodded, thankfully asking no more questions.
The conversation buzzed around her. As Izzy pressed the needle through the cloth, over and over again, she came to a decision.
She’d had enough of hiding and pretending.
She had to be brave. She would tell Hale.
Tonight.
“I NEED TO SPEAK WITH you.” Izzy blurted out the words the second Hale entered their bedroom that night. If she didn’t say something right away, she feared she’d lose her nerve.
He paused in the doorway, hand on his half-unbuttoned vest and his eyes wide at her proclamation. “All right.” He sounded uncertain, but Izzy refused to let that deter her.
She waited until he’d shrugged out of the vest and hung it in the wardrobe.
He gave a hollow laugh when he turned around to find her watching him. “You’re making me nervous.”
Izzy bit the inside of her lip. He couldn’t be as nervous as she was. After all, she was the one with a truth to confess.
“Should I sit?” he asked.
“If you like.”
He perched on the edge of the desk chair. Izzy thought about sitting on the bed, but she felt restless. It would be easier to get this out if she was standing.
She clasped her hands together, trying to find the strength to say what she needed to.
“You were right.” The words sort of stuttered out of her throat.
She swallowed and kept going. “I was fearful when you talked of outlaws and when Sheriff Wright came to visit, but not for the reason you suspected.”
Hale leaned forward. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it back impatiently.
Izzy’s heart ached at the simple motion.
When she’d given herself half a second to imagine the man she would marry back in Cheyenne, she never could have dreamed up a man as handsome and as kind as Hale. What if he—
No. She couldn’t let her mind worry about his reaction. If she did, she’d never keep the courage to tell him her motivation for writing to him.
“What do you mean?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
Izzy pressed her interlocked fingers together and forced herself to look at him. “I told you my father and my brothers were away. You assumed I meant for work, and that is the truth if you think about it a certain way. They’re away because of their work.”
“All right,” he said in a voice that indicated his confusion.
“But their work . . .” Izzy trailed off. There was no nice way to explain it. But maybe if she led with the reasons why, it would soften the entire narrative. “My father is a good man. My brothers too, as much as it pains me sometimes to admit.” She gave him a weary smile, and he returned it.
“We didn’t always have much money with the homestead,” Izzy continued.
“Papa found himself in debt more than once, and he always lamented that if he’d had more money, he could have found a hospital for Mama and perhaps she wouldn’t have .
. .” Izzy shook away the painful memory.
“So, after she passed, he gave up the homestead and found a way to help people like us. He didn’t want anyone else to experience the pain of losing someone when it could have been prevented.
He discovered a way to get money and ensure it went to people who needed it. ”
Hale’s brow crinkled as he sat back in his chair. “He founded a charity?”
“Well, not precisely.” It was a charity of sorts, but Izzy knew it wasn’t of the kind Hale was thinking.
“Papa spent time in places where men talk. Saloons, gambling halls, boardinghouse dining rooms.” She’d hoped the latter would make Hale smile, but his expression didn’t change. He was waiting for more.
Izzy drew in a deep breath. “He found out when rich men—those with businesses who had far more than they needed—planned to acquire more, and he . . .” She paused, wondering whether to reveal her own minuscule role.
Perhaps it was better to share a little at a time, especially if she hoped for his help.
She could still be honest and leave herself out of the story. “He and my brothers took it.”
Hale’s mouth opened, then shut again.
And when he said nothing immediately, Izzy’s heart sunk.