Chapter One #3
“I thought the whole point of finding me a wife was to make me happy?”
“Maybe so—but I ain’t found her yet!”
Beau laughed. “You ain’t, huh? I thought you had some fine candidates?”
“I do. I just haven’t narrowed the field.” Junebug harrumphed. “And now I might have to get photographs out of them before I narrow it down.” What were the chances of finding a second moonshine woman? Maybe she could find out what kind of camera made a woman glow like that…
“Or you can just concede defeat now?” Beau put his hands on his narrow hips and gave her an understanding look.
“I’d rather die.”
He laughed again. “Well, while you’re contemplating the afterlife, how about you put yourself to use. I need a partner.”
“I ain’t helping you.”
“C’mon,” he coaxed. “Who knows, maybe I’ll end up dancing with the woman you pick. Then you’ll wish I danced nice, won’t you?” He grabbed her hands and tugged her forward. Junebug just about hissed at him. “Now, now, is that any way to treat a Beau at your first dance?” He laughed at his own pun.
“What’s her name?” Junebug asked as Beau started humming a merry tune and skipping her around the clearing. She let him, because it was actually quite fun. Not that she was telling him that.
“Her name is Miss Diana Newchurch.” He said it like he was speaking poetry. “And she’s from Fall River, Massachusetts.”
“That sounds like a long way away.” Junebug’s brain whirred, wondering if she could nab a closer bride and beat this Diana Newchurch to the finish line.
Beau burst into song and kicked up the pace a notch.
Junebug brightened as a thought occurred to her. “How do you know that’s actually a photograph of her? I mean, she could have sent a photograph of anyone, couldn’t she? How are you to know?” Junebug gave him a sly smile.
Beau missed a step.
“She could look like me for all you know.” Junebug pressed the point.
He gave her a pained look.
“I’d recommend not promising anything in your letter,” Junebug advised. “I mean, remember Willabelle—she weren’t what she seemed in her letters.”
“Willabelle is a damn fine-looking woman.”
Now it was Junebug’s turn to look pained. “Looks ain’t everything. Remember her personality?”
“Well, Miss Diana Newchurch’s personality is just as pretty as her picture.”
Junebug doubted that. Surely it was impossible for a woman who looked like moonshine to have a moonshiny personality too. “Can she cook? Launder? Do the things a wife needs to do?”
“Junebug, there’s only one thing my wife needs to do…”
“Oh, ick. No.”
He spun her around gleefully and she tried not to enjoy it.
“I just need a woman who likes me, Bug. I want her to make me happy. And I want to make her happy.”
“Well, a dirty house and an empty stomach ain’t likely to make you happy.”
“Given I already have those things, I’m sure I’ll cope.”
“Hey!” Junebug stomped on his foot as they spun. “I cooked you a whole panful of eggs this morning!”
“Well, there you go. I don’t need her to do it—I’ve got you.”
Junebug swore at him.
“Admit it, Bug. I’ve got this bet won. You’ll not find a single woman as good as the one I’ve got.”
It was that bold claim that smacked the genius into her. You’ll not find a single woman…
Maybe not. But what about more than one…
Beau had been raised on this mountain and had known only a dozen or so women in his life, and half of those he was related to.
He was starved for lady company. Junebug considered that maybe he was looking for courtship more than an actual marriage.
Look how happy he was about this dancing business.
Maybe what he really wanted was dancing and flirting and a whole lot of goddamn attention.
So why not give it to him?
Junebug felt herself get her own twinkle.
What if she ordered up more than one? Two or three girls might give Miss Moonglow a run for her money—they’d certainly improve the odds in Junebug’s favor.
Hell, why stop at three? She could order up four.
Or five. Or, spit, even a dozen. Although she probably didn’t have enough money to cover a dozen train tickets or accommodation for all those women.
How many could she afford? Five girls? Maybe six?
So long as Beau didn’t take too long to pick one, she could probably afford a couple of weeks’ worth of room and board for six girls.
She had her poker winnings saved up, and she really wanted to win this damn bet.
She could haul six pretty girls up this hill and make her brother lose his damn mind. And there was no reason one of her six couldn’t end up the new Mrs. McBride. Especially if Junebug chose them well. She could easily pick six versions of happiness for him.
Looking at Beau spinning around the clearing, giddy at the thought of dancing with his moonglowy girl, Junebug knew that she was right.
Imagine him having a whole passel of girls to dance around!
He’d be happier than a pig in mud. And while he danced them about, she’d work her ass off to make sure he got kicked in the head over one of her wives, and not over his.
Because she wasn’t losing. Junebug McBride didn’t lose at anything.