Free Brides of the West by Michèle Ann Young

steps of his older brother.
    Jake didn’t look her in the eye. His hat
pulled low on his forehead, his thumbs in his belt, he stared at
the dirt. “Goodbye, Tess.”
    That was it, then. No more to be said.
    She swung away, took a swift look up and down
the street for traffic, then crossed the road and entered the
hotel.
    “What can I do for you ma’am,” the clerk
behind the counter asked.
    “Is there a saddle maker in town?”
    “At the north end.”
    “I am looking for a man who does fine
decoration.”
    The man scratched his nose with the end of
his pen. “I wouldn’t know, ma’am. Do you want a room for the night
or not.” He glanced at her satchel suspiciously. “Is that all the
luggage you got?”
    Tess bit her lip. That was a complication she
hadn’t thought of. That and her lack of money. The whole reason for
agreeing to be a mail order bride had been because she’d been
robbed of everything she owned. She still didn’t have money. And
she wasn’t about to ask Jake. He’d probably see it as payment for
services rendered and give it to her. Anger at the sudden pain in
her heart reddened her vision and brought a hard lump into her
throat. She forced her words around it. “Actually,” she said, “I’m
looking for work.”
    The clerk’s pale face flushed. “You cheeky
little bitch. Get out of here, before I call the sheriff. Didn’t
you see the sign?” He pointed to the inscription on a varnished
board above his head. “Or can’t you read?”
    “Yes, I can read,” she snapped. “It says no
soliciting.”
    “And that’s what it means. This is a
respectable establishment. Be off with you before I call the
sheriff to put you in the hoosegow.”
    Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized what
he thought. She turned about face with a flounce of her skirts and
marched out.
    Jake’s buggy was gone.
    She glanced up and down the sleepy street,
saw a couple of Mexicans dozing in the sun outside the saloon, a
couple of horses waiting patiently outside the general store, and
that was it. It was siesta time, according to Jake. Things wouldn’t
get busy again until the sun went down.
    Oh, Albert, please be here . If he
wasn’t, she might well find herself back in the Bride for
All office looking for another husband. But she really didn’t
think she could. Not after her encounter with Jake. She’d always
compare any man she met to him. And that wouldn’t be fair or
endurable.
    She straightened her shoulders and set off up
the street. After coming all this way to find him, Albert just had
to be here.
    At the north end of town, Fred Tuttle’s
Saddle Shop was no different than the other adobe buildings. Tess
peered into a window full of decorated saddles, each one with
Albert’s trademark AW worked into the design, exactly like the one
Jake owned. As she pushed the door open, a bell tinkled above her
head. She stepped into the blessed cool and let the door swing
shut.
    A dark-eyed woman of Spanish extraction with
a black shawl over a pristine white blouse hurried from somewhere
at the back of the shop. A full black skirt decorated with
exquisite embroidery swirled around her ankles. She halted when she
saw Tess, her expression turning doubtful, her black eyes huge.
“Can I help you, señora?” Her soft accent was charming.
    Tess smiled. “I’m looking for my brother,
Albert White. He made the saddles in your window.”
    The woman’s expression shuttered. “There is
no Albert here.”
    Tess stared at her. Why would the woman lie?
Was Albert in some sort of trouble? “My name is Tess. Albert is my
brother. He wrote to me from San Antonio. I know he made those
saddles.”
    The woman shook her head, hands clasped at
her breasts. “I’m sorry, señora. It is a mistake, I think.”
    She made a shooing motion with her arms.
    Tess pushed passed her.
    “Señora,” the woman cried, “you cannot go
there.”
    Tess didn’t stop. She passed through a
storeroom and out the back door, where the dazzle of