Free I do, I do, I do by Maggie Osborne Page A

by the injustice, she shifted a frown to Juliette's and Zoe's reflections. They stood behind her in the street inspecting mounds of goods, discussing methods of packing and arranging. At least that's what Zoe appeared to be doing. Juliette wrung her hands and gazed at the packs with a dazed look of confusion and disbelief.
    Clara sighed. Next to the other two Mmes Villette, she felt like a Saint Bernard plodding along beside two sleek greyhounds. In the last week she had stopped thinking of herself as merely substantial and had started thinking of herself as unbecomingly big and clunky. Secretly she wondered what her Jean Jacques had seen in her since two out of three of his wives were petite. She was the unfortunate anomaly.
    She wasn't skinny like the other two. Her hair wouldn't stay put. She preferred comfort to fashion. She'd rather scrub a staircase than pick up an embroidery hoop. She liked to grow vegetables and she liked to polish silver.
    Mostly she liked to eat a perfectly prepared and abundant meal. She was a peasant.
    Sighing again, she gazed into the reflection and watched Juliette and Zoe bend their heads over Zoe's list. After a minute she noticed a man leaning against a mound of goods and smoking a cigar on the far side of the street. He observed Juliette with narrow intent eyes, his gaze following as she paced beside Zoe.
    Clara's attention sharpened and she turned from the reflection to study him directly. Like most of the stampeders buying outfits at Wilder's, this man wore a beard, but his was new, just beginning to fill in. He wore denims with plain suspenders running over the shoulders of an open-collared shirt, had tilted his hat to shade the late August sun. He was tall and good-looking, but it was his attitude that set him apart from the other men in the street.
    Whereas the others had an air of frenzy and perhaps desperation about them, this man did not. He wasn't focused on his outfit to the exclusion of all else. And he was more aware of his surroundings than the others seemed to be. Certainly he was aware of Juliette. He hadn't looked away from her in several minutes.
    When Clara was certain she wasn't imagining his interest, she moved between the piles of foodstuffs and camping equipment.
    "Juliette," she said in a low voice. "There's a man across the street who's watching you like you're a dumpling and he's starving."
    Juliette did not glance up from Zoe's list. "Is he broad-shouldered and handsome? Smoking a cigar and wearing a green scarf twisted around his hatband?"
    Clara hadn't noticed the scarf until she turned sideways and shot him a suspicious look. The man smiled slightly and tipped his hat to her, then returned his attention to Juliette.
    "Do you know him?"
    "Certainly not." Juliette glared from under her hat brim. "But we keep running into him. He was in the park last week when we talked to Zoe, and I think he's staying at our hotel."
    Clara could swear she had never seen the man before, but apparently she had. "Well, he sure seems interested in you."
    "If you're implying that I've encouraged him, I assure you I have not. I am a married woman!" Juliette straightened and sniffed, her shoulders stiff with insult.
    "Oh, for heaven's sake. I didn't imply anything, I only… Just forget it!"
    Throwing up her hands in annoyance, Clara turned in a huff to walk away and crashed into the biggest man she'd ever seen.
    Huge hands steadied her. "I beg your pardon."
    "No, no. It was my fault."
    As he was easily six feet six inches tall, she had to tilt her head back to see his face. Shaggy masses of golden hair tumbled around his jawline since he carried his hat instead of wearing it. No one would have described him as handsome. His face was too lived in, and there were reminders of too many brawls in the once-broken nose and a scar that cut through one eyebrow. It was a craggy, intimidating face until he smiled, then Clara saw that some might consider him handsome after all.
    "Did I stomp your