Chapter Twelve
At the Founder’s Day celebration, melodic music from string instruments drifted down from the mercantile’s two-story balcony.
The atmosphere reminded Josie of the good ole days, full of romantic balls complete with hoop-skirt gowns, suitors, and strawberry punch.
Before the war, she attended them every weekend, sometimes visiting the same home twice in a row.
Her family often traveled over twenty miles and stayed nearly a week with hosts.
Papa adored balls probably more than Mama did.
He liked to socialize and play cards in the hosts’ parlor until the last dance.
Then he’d join Mama for a waltz to her favorite tune.
Josie would watch from the corner, refusing to entertain a suitor for the last song.
She wanted to watch her parents and feel the warmth of their love from afar.
That had been the life she envisioned when she learned she was betrothed to a handsome, older war hero.
Bumps prickled across her skin, despite the crisp, summer sunlight glowing on her back.
The day before her first wedding, she learned Marcus’s name and put the pieces together.
That man may have been a hero, but rumors circulated the county that he killed his own wife just two months earlier.
However, it was never proven, and one of his former slaves was hanged for the murder.
Marcus claimed that the girl poisoned his wife, but why would a sweet, young thing want to poison anyone, especially when Lincoln granted her freedom?
Papa assured Josie it was all rumors, but on the wedding night . . . she was convinced it was true.
Josie closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths. Those days are behind you. Move forward.
“Josie?”
Josie opened her eyes, realizing she had frozen in the middle of the street with her pie in hand.
Her cheeks flushed, seeing Caroline and Rose motioning her to the dessert table covered by a blue checkered tablecloth beside the mercantile.
Josie straightened her posture and walked in their direction, moving through the sea of people.
She adjusted the ringlets that fell loosely from beneath the flower crown Lillian and Ivy had made.
“Oh, how lovely it is to see you,” Rose said, embracing her. “For a moment I thought you were lost out there.”
Josie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry. I’m just not used to crowds.”
Caroline chuckled, taking her pie. “We might not have as many people as Virginia City does, but we are close-knit.” She uncovered the pie and smiled. “This looks delicious, Josie.”
“Thank you.”
She observed the goods on the table—plates of cookies, cakes, pies, and cobblers.
The aroma of vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg flowed through the warm Montana breeze.
The icing on the cakes seemed a little runny from the heat, but the rest of the items appeared to be made with artistic care and pride.
Josie didn’t care much for the competition.
She had never before entered a contest that required a servant’s skill, but she hoped to establish a good reputation that eliminated her proper upbringing.
But what if the pie’s taste proved she wasn’t a baker like the women of Willow Grove?
Had she measured the sugar correctly? What if the huckleberries were over-ripe?
What if they were too sour? Her pulse raced as Caroline placed it next to other pies with lattice crusts and braided edges.
Since Josie hadn’t baked in so long, she had forgotten how to make a pie crust that was dependable.
This one flaked and the edges were slightly browner than the rest. She was hardly an expert at anything baking related.
“What did Alice make?” Josie asked.
“An apple turnover,” Caroline answered, arranging the desserts.
“Maybe it will stand up to your huckleberry cobbler,” Rose told Caroline. “I don’t think anyone can beat it—even if Alice has your talent.”
Caroline chuckled. “Oh, Rose, you flatter me so.”
Rose grinned. “What are friends for?”
The orchestra changed to an upbeat tune, and Reverend Levingston appeared out of the crowd, making his way to Rose. He bowed and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Levingston?”
Josie blinked twice. Reverend Levingston was a romantic?
Rose took his hand and kissed his cheek. “Of course, my dear husband.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, and Rose waved. “See you ladies later. Good luck!” They disappeared into the crowd, joining the dancers in the street.
Caroline sighed and stood beside Josie. “They’re a different couple, aren’t they?”
Josie turned her gaze to Caroline, who was watching the dancers. “What do you mean?”
“Their affection,” Caroline explained. “I highly assume you’ve never seen a minister and his wife behave that way in public. There’s no denying their marriage is legitimate.”
Josie folded her arms over her pink cotton dress. “I’m not following. Are you implying they aren’t married?”
Caroline gasped with her hand over her mouth. “No, dear. I meant none of that at all. I meant how their marriage isn’t based on convenience—it’s based on love.”
The word convenience made Josie’s core tighten. She swallowed hard and adjusted her lace collar. Could Caroline see through Josie’s facade?
“Ladies believe ministers are perfect and will never break their hearts, but a heartbreak from them is the worst kind. They have a habit of seeking out women for their own benefit. In order for a minister to be respected, he has to be married. The woman must master such etiquette and skills that will benefit her husband in the church.”
“How do you know about this?” Josie asked sharply, but she recovered with a soft voice, hoping Caroline wouldn’t take offense. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“I grew up in Boston,” Caroline explained. “I hope you don’t hold it against me because I’m a Yankee. I can tell by your accent you’re originally from Dixie.”
Josie shuddered. She didn’t mind Caroline being a Northerner, but the term “Yankee” had another connotation in Josie’s book. Yankees were her enemies—killing her brothers and causing her family to crumble.
“The war is over, Caroline. I haven’t judged anyone because of their location. Here I am out west. I guess you can say I left it all behind.” Left it all behind? The lie left a bitter taste on her tongue.
Caroline’s lips curved. “Well, I assume you can say that. This is neutral ground.” Caroline sucked in a breath then exhaled.
She turned her body towards Josie, leaning in closer.
“I was engaged to a minister once, Reverend David Fortenberry. More intellectual than he was handsome. My mother and he said it was God’s will for me to be his wife.
I knew nothing of love, but I believe I loved him because it was God’s will we were to wed.
” Caroline lowered her head, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Then one day I realized the reverend was using me. He needed a piano player, and I was the perfect choice.”
Josie gasped. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“No one expects this behavior from ministers. That’s why you should watch Ivy and Lillian when a preacher comes calling on them romantically.
” She straightened her shoulders. “I have nothing against the man of the cloth, God forbid, but they can be just as terrible as any man, especially one who uses God’s name to manipulate you to do what he wants.
” Caroline sighed as another song began.
“You’re lucky to have Travis, though. He fell in love with you over letters. That’s once in a lifetime.”
Knots coiled in Josie’s stomach again, but this time she was afraid she’d faint or vomit.
She looked at her shoes, breathing in and out steadily.
Her marriage was as much a sham as it could have been for Caroline and Reverend Fortenberry.
She was using Travis. She was the “reverend” in this story, seeking out a man who could father her child.
Her cheeks heated, and the world around her became cloudy.
Caroline turned around, handing Josie a cup of water. She smiled warmly. “You look like you need it. Your face is turning red.”
Josie’s skin prickled, placing her hand on her cheeks. “Oh, it is a little warm out.” She took the water. “Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. The cool beverage soothed her mind, and she turned about from the dancing romance before her. “How did you meet Ronan?”
Caroline chuckled, her hand on her chest. “Oh my, where do I begin? He was not the man my parents wanted me to marry. He was an Irish boxer and fought weekly at the saloon across from the church.”
Josie nearly choked on her water. “Really? Ronan was a boxer?”
“Yes! He tried to find work, but no one would hire an Irishman, so he became a star.” Caroline smiled, looking towards Ronan near the dunking booth, carrying the twins in both arms. No doubt he had the strength of a boxer.
“Ronan wanted me because he loved me. He never tried to change me, and I never tried to change him. That’s the kind of man I want my daughters to marry.”
Josie smiled. “No doubt he’s a wonderful man from what I’ve heard and seen.”
When Ronan turned, Josie noticed Travis beside him, laughing as the children jumped up and down, pointing at the man in the dunking booth who had just been knocked down by six-year-old Liam Walsh.
Travis met her gaze with a smile for a sharp moment, then turned his attention to Jonas who patted Liam’s back.
A lump of sorrow formed in Josie’s throat. Travis deserved more. The children deserved an honest mother. Josie would never forget Caroline’s story. How could she be friends with this woman and be a deceiver in her heart? Caroline had once been hurt by the same type of person Josie was.