Wooing Gertrude

Burrton Springs, Kansas

August 4, 1877

Gertrude Miller’s life couldn’t get any better. She grinned, patting her pocket. Her fingers traced the two skeleton keys. After months of planning and preparing she finally had moved into her own place a week ago, away from the overbearing reach of her mother. In two days, she’d be opening the clothing shop beneath her apartment.

She studied the trail leading into town hoping for a wisp of dust indicating the stagecoach was on its way, but saw none. Smoothing the light blue flowered fabric of her skirt, Gertrude’s hand settled against her churning stomach. What would George Witt think of her when he arrived? Would he see past her faults and still find her loveable? Would he like the place she picked for them to live?

The many letters he’d written to her crinkled in her reticule, as she clutched it close to her heart. His last missive declared he planned to marry her shortly after arriving. Mama would have a conniption, which was why Gertrude hadn’t breathed a word to her mother that she’d marry tomorrow after the church service. Mama would try to do everything in her power to prevent it. Gertrude didn’t plan to say anything to her until they were sitting side by side in the church. No use creating a stir ahead of time.

Her dress hung from a hook in her new place waiting for the blessed event. She’d spent hours sewing it and adding yards of intricate lace she’d crocheted.

A group of women had stopped in front of the mercantile down the street, but they seemed more interested in the wares in the window than in who might be arriving on the stagecoach.

“Howdy, Gertrude.”

She turned. “Hello, Sheriff. Although I guess I can’t call you that much longer. I hear Doc Adams is retiring soon, and you’ll be taking over for him. Annie must be pleased, especially with…”

Joshua Walker chuckled and hitched his Stetson high on his forehead. “With Annie increasing more and more each day, she can’t wait for me to take over for Doc, so I’ll be available when the baby makes an appearance. She’s not too excited about me still being the sheriff.”

“Are there any prospects of someone taking your place soon?” Gertrude glanced toward the outskirts of town again but still no sign of the late stagecoach.

The sheriff leaned against the hitching post and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not a fulltime replacement, but one of the cowboys from the Williams’s ranch stopped by interested in a part-time job. I guess things aren’t going so well for Ellie Lou. She’s had to sell off some of her herd.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear it. I’ll have to stop by and see her when I get a free moment. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a spouse.”

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I can’t either. Hope I never have to…”

She reached over, giving his shoulder a light squeeze before withdrawing her hand.

The tall man shifted his Stetson and glanced toward the edge of town.

Gertrude didn’t think she’d hear a more welcoming sound as the rumble of the approaching stagecoach. Her heart hitched in her chest as the vehicle come to a halt. She stood a little taller. Here we go, Lord. By this time tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. George Witt.

The door creaked open. The local banker stepped down, turning to help his wife.

Sheriff Walker edged closer.

Gertrude resisted the urge to stand on tiptoes as an immaculately dressed young woman stood in the doorway.

The woman waved aside the driver’s hand. “You don’t expect little me to jump, do you?”

“No, miss.” The driver instead gripped the woman’s trim waist and swung her to the ground.

Color stained the woman’s cheeks. She withdrew a fan and snapped it open.

The driver shifted toward the door and helped an elderly lady from the stagecoach. Gray streaked her hair making it difficult to tell what color her hair used to be. The woman went to stand beside the younger lady. A relative perhaps?

Gertrude refrained from elbowing past the driver. Goodness. How many people were on the stage? Most days not a single soul traveled to their little town. A few seconds passed before a dashing young man with a silk top hat and black cane stepped into the doorway.

Her heart skipped a beat. George. It had to be him. His actual appearance far outshone the small tintype he’d sent in his last letter. Lord knew looks weren’t everything, but it would be pure pleasure to be married to such a handsome man. She smiled and waved. Should she wait for him to come to her? What was the proper response? After all, he was her fiancé.

A smile spread across George’s face as he hopped to the ground.

Gertrude rushed forward along with Sheriff Walker.

“George Witt?” Joshua fished a pair of handcuffs from a pocket. “Or is it Allen Peterson? Or perhaps Joel Abernathy? Or then again, it could be Jeffrey Fordham.”

What was he talking about, and why had George’s face turned gray?

“You’re under arrest.” The sheriff clapped the iron bracelets on her fiancé.

“W…what? I’m Gertrude Miller’s fiancé,” the man said. “You have the wrong man.”

“No, I don’t,” Sheriff Walker’s tone was final.

This couldn’t be happening, not on the eve before their wedding. Please, Lord. “T-there must be some mistake…” She fidgeted with her handbag, waiting for George to somehow explain away the situation.

“Do you know this swindler?” The sheriff’s brow rose as he studied her.

She couldn’t stop her face from heating. “I…that is…”

“This is an outrage!” George struggled against the constraints on his wrists. “Is this how you treat all your newcomers? I demand you release me at once.”

“That won’t be happening anytime soon.” Joshua tugged her fiancé’s arm. “I have a jail cell waiting on you. There’s been word sent all along your trail here about the women you’ve swindled a vast amount of money from.” He glanced at Gertrude. “He hasn’t taken any money from you, has he?”

Her gaze darted toward George who took a sudden interest in his fancy shoes. “Women? I uh, well, you see…”

Josh ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I guess you’d better come with me too, Gertrude.”

“But…” She hung her head. She’d never live this down if word got back to her mother.