Page 23 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

“Fine,” Junebug said, scooting back. “ You find a dress.” She sat herself down on Ellie’s bed. “Your other ones ain’t brown, are they?”

“Out,” Ellie ordered.

“In a minute. I just wanted to get to know you first, and maybe apologize.”

“ Maybe apologize?”

“Sure. I can apologize when I need to.”

“You definitely need to.”

The kid wasn’t going anywhere. She leaned back on her elbows, kicking her heels so her blue skirts swirled.

Ellie shrugged and knelt by her trunk, pushing the little dog out of the way.

What did she care if the little monster watched her unpack?

She considered her options for dressing for supper.

She was already wearing her best dress, and it was worse for wear.

She had the two blouses and the skirt she wore to work at the mill, and her second-best dress, which was a cheap calico in a dusty yellow, sprigged with tiny flowers the color of rust. The dress was without bustle or frill.

She’d made it herself years ago and she wasn’t good with a needle, but it was clean, and it wasn’t brown.

“Spit, you’ve got some ugly clothes,” Junebug said from the bed. She reached down and lifted her dog up onto her lap.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of winning money at cards,” Ellie replied sharply. “We have to make do.”

“I’ll have to teach you how to play cards, then. You can’t go around wearing those awful things, or no one will ever want to marry you.”

Ellie flushed. She knew her clothes were awful.

Diana had begged her to get at least one new dress before she came to Montana, but when Ellie had gone to say goodbye to her mother and had seen the hunger on the children’s faces, and the hollows in her mother’s cheeks, she just couldn’t bring herself to waste money on a dress.

Her clothes were perfectly serviceable, and her family needed food.

She’d given what little cash she had to her mother and packed her ugly old clothes.

“Well, it has to be either this dress, or the skirt.” Ellie held them up.

“At least the skirt ain’t brown.” Junebug’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the sight of the dress.

“This isn’t brown.” Ellie shook the yellow-ish dress at her.

“As good as. It’s just a brown so pale it’s lost its liveliness.”

Junebug’s dog barked in agreement.

“The skirt then,” Ellie sighed, as she plucked cotton fluff off the hem of the dark twill.

There was so much cotton floating about at the mill that it attached itself to clothing and was near impossible to remove.

She picked at it listlessly, remembering the lovely dresses the girls in the parlor had been wearing.

Cheerful bright colors with ribbons and flounces, puffs and frills.

Ellie would look like a little brown sparrow amid that host of beautiful birds.

“Where’s the dress from the photograph you sent?” Junebug demanded. “That was flattering.”

“It was Diana’s. I borrowed it.” Ellie stood, holding the skirt up in front of her. It would be fine. No one was looking at her anyway.

“What have you got there?” Junebug sat up ramrod straight, staring into the trunk now that the dress had been removed.

“My blouses?” Ellie lifted the blouses too. One was white and one was washed out blue. They’d both been laundered to within an inch of their lives.

“Not the blouses.” Junebug was off the bed and hovering over the trunk, like it held treasure.

“Oh. My books?”

“There’s more books in there than Kit has in his entire collection!” She shot Ellie a wide-eyed entreaty. “Can I borrow one?”

Ellie saw the hunger on Junebug’s face and the germ of an idea took root. “I’ll tell you what. If you forget about your bet and let your brother marry Diana without a fuss, you can borrow as many as you like.”

Junebug snorted. “When hell freezes over.”

Ellie closed the trunk. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Junebug pulled at her dog’s furry bat ears and eyed the closed trunk. “What if I drop the idea of you marrying my brother, is that worth borrowing a book or two?”

Ellie laughed. “No, because I’m already not marrying your brother.”

“Why not? Don’t you think he’s pretty?”

“Very pretty,” Ellie said before she could stop herself. “But he’s also very much engaged to my best friend, who I love more than anyone in the world.”

“I don’t suppose she has a trunk full of books?” Junebug asked hopefully.

“No, but she does have some very beautiful dresses.”

“Maybe you could borrow one of hers. That one from the photograph.”

“I don’t have any reason to—I’m not the one trying to get Beau’s attention.”

Junebug gave her a sour look. “You were a complete waste of money. What’s the point of you, if you ain’t here to kick him in the head with a wile or two?”

Ellie knocked on Diana’s door on her way down to dinner. Her friend was in her dark blue dress and had loosened her hair into a more relaxed chignon. She was as beautiful as ever, but in a mood. She wasn’t at all pleased about the harem, and Ellie couldn’t blame her.

“So, you’re part of the bet too,” Diana said coolly. She let Ellie into her room and took a moment to check her appearance in the looking glass and dab on some scent from the tiny little bottle that was her most beloved treasure.

“ Was part of the bet.” Ellie was vehement.

She wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent of narcissus.

“I was part of the bet. But not anymore. Except to help you win. I’ll do all I can on that front,” Ellie said hurriedly.

“And don’t worry, he hasn’t wavered about you.

” Ellie sat on the big brass bed and watched Diana finish her toilette.

She bounced appreciatively. Oh, this bed was comfortable.

There was a thick whole cloth quilt stuffed with a puffy eiderdown.

It was like sitting on a cloud. Ellie couldn’t imagine ever being unhappy in a bed this comfortable.

She was so glad Diana could have the pleasure of it.

She hoped it gave Diana as much joy as Ellie’s charming little attic gave her.

“Entertaining six other women counts as wavering,” Diana disagreed.

“Five,” Ellie corrected. “Not me. And he doesn’t want to. You should hear how he speaks of you, Diana.” Ellie’s eyes shone, remembering Beau up in her little attic room, swearing fidelity to Diana. “I think I’d die of delight if someone spoke of me that way.”

“Well, speaking and doing are two different things.”

“No one else got a harvest of autumnal glory.” Ellie admired the bouquet of branches on the dresser.

“Yet,” Diana amended tersely. “No one else got one yet .”

“Nor will they. Not one of those girls can hold a candle to you. And none of them exchanged all those letters with him.” Ellie firmly believed Diana was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Diana turned. She took a shaky breath and nodded, and Ellie was horrified to see the shine of tears in her dark blue eyes.

“Oh Diana.” Ellie rushed to hug her.

“I’m probably just tired from the journey.” Diana’s voice was muffled, her face buried in Ellie’s shoulder. She had to bend a fair way down to bury it. Ellie rose on tiptoe to help her out.

“Of course,” Ellie soothed, patting her on the back. “It was a trial of a journey. But after some supper and a sleep in that big cloud of a bed, you’ll be full of zest again.”

“You seem to be much more zesty, yourself,” Diana said, pulling back and dabbing at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.

“Well, I did eat a whole plate of sugar cookies before. And,” she grinned, “secretly I’m frightfully glad I’m not marrying a man from an advertisement.

That was one part of coming to Montana with you that I wasn’t at all keen on.

I’m so happy I get to be here with you, with no distractions. I’ll be at your wedding—”

“If there is a wedding,” Diana interrupted, her eyes going all swimmy again.

“Of course there’ll be a wedding. And you’ll be the most beautiful bride there ever was, and he’ll be the most besotted groom there ever was.” Ellie pushed away thoughts of what would happen after the wedding. When she’d be alone and jobless and facing some hard decisions about her future…

Diana pressed her lips together. When she nodded, a tear cascaded down her pale cheek. “Yes.” She gave a watery smile. “And you’ll be my maid of honor.”

Ellie beamed. She’d known she would be, but hearing it lit her up.

She imagined herself in that meadow, walking down the aisle before Diana—because there would most definitely be an aisle—in her new gown of…

Ellie paused, not sure what kind of gown to imagine herself in.

Her gaze flew to the looking glass. Her reflection showed an ordinary working girl in a twill skirt and a white blouse without even a puff of sleeve to cheer it.

She couldn’t quite imagine these old clothes away.

Diana had followed her gaze to the looking glass and Ellie could tell she was doing her mind reading trick again. “Your hair looks so lovely down,” she said, smiling at Ellie in the mirror.

Ellie lifted a hand to her dark hair. The braids had been unsalvageable, so she’d taken them out.

After days plaited, her hair had exploded into a mass of kinks.

Usually her hair was mostly straight, but today it was a wild bush.

She’d tried to comb it out, but that had just bushed it more.

She’d tied a couple of strands back with a bit of white ribbon, to hold it out of her face, but she wondered if she should just give up and cram it all up into a knot.

“It suits you,” Diana reassured her.

Ellie bit her lip. Well, either way there wasn’t much to do about it. This was her, like it or not. “I should probably have taken your advice and got a new dress,” she said miserably. “Everyone’s going to look as wonderful as you do, and I look like I should be at a loom.”