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Old Maid Bride

By Carlene Havel, Billie Houston

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Sunday December 31, 1905
Isabel Delaney was halfway up the stairs and standing on the second-floor landing when a masculine voice fractured the quiet of the chilly old house.
"I'm surprised you finally agreed. What changed your mind?"
Was she hallucinating? That seemed a good possibility. Her terminally ill brother had not slept last night. Consequently, neither had she.
"You ain't heard all of my deal yet." Jim's frail voice wavered. "This is about Isabel too. I'm concerned about that girl."
Isabel was twenty-seven-years old--a far cry from being a girl, although her brother insisted on referring to her as such. That was perhaps understandable since Jim was ten years her senior. She stood very still, and strained to hear more.
On the end of an amused chuckle, a deep voice coming from inside the room questioned, "What are you up to now, you old scalawag?"
Isabel crept forward until she stood just outside Jim’s bedroom door. She recognized the baritone voice. It belonged to Myles Donovan, the man who owned the ranch adjoining the Circle T.
"I’ll--come straight to--the point." Jim gasped for breath. "I have less than six months before I cash in my chips. In the meantime, I have to find someone to take care of Isabel."
"What does that have to do with me buying the Circle T?"
Her brother was selling their home? Where would she go? What would she do?
Jim's voice rallied.
"It's a package deal. If you take the ranch, you get my little sister too."
"Great guns, man--" Myles shouted.
"Keep it down," Jim rasped.
Myles's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
"You can't sell a woman like she was a piece of property."
"So, you ain't interested." Jim exhaled in resignation. "I’m wasting my time and I don't have much of that left."
Myles's voice lost its bantering tone. "Come on, Jim, you know how badly I want the Circle T. Now let’s get down to business."
"I'm dying. Do you think, under those circumstances, I'd horse around?"
"You are serious," Myles voice lifted in surprise. After a moment of silence, he added, "I don't know if I'm the man for the job."
“I hope you can live with yourself when you realize too late what a good deal you passed up Thanks for coming over," Jim declared, in melodramatic tones.
“Don't be too so hasty," Myles replied. "I made the long ride over here in the cold. The least I can do is hear what you have to say."
"Now you're being sensible." Jim sighed. "I want you to take care of my little sister after I’m gone. It ain't like I'm not willing to pay you for your trouble. Tell you what. I'll knock ten percent off what I'm asking for the Circle T."
Myles chuckled. "You do realize this deal means trouble."
"A little, maybe," Jim conceded. "But nobody gets something for nothing."
Isabel's chest heaved as she willed herself to stand still and listen.
There was surprise and a thread of laughter in Myles's reply. "Have you talked this over with your sister?"
"Isabel will do as she is told," Jim assured him.
"Are you sure about that?" Myles's mirth was gone. "In a few hours it will be 1906. Women are demanding all kinds of rights and privileges these days. You've been shut up in here so long you don't know what it's like out there in the real world."
"What don't I know?"
"Try this for starters. Last year some Yankee female named Mary O'Sullivan founded a women's trade union. Can you imagine?"
"The world has gone crazy. That's why my little sister needs protecting. She believes all this modern garbage. Back in 1903 when the Finnigan sisters started the Texas Women's Suffrage Association, Isabel joined. She thinks women ought to vote," Jim added on a troubled note. "Sometimes I think females want to take over the world."
"They already have their foot in the door." Myles's tone was grave. "In some of those eastern cities like New York and Chicago there are women who work in offices, just like men."
"The heck you say." This time Jim’s thin voice lifted in surprise.
"They call themselves 'stenographers'. That's not the only place they are taking over. Females want to outlaw liquor and shut down saloons," Myles continued. "Face it, Jim. It's a new century."
"Don't start with that 'new century' stuff. I hear enough of that from Isabel." Jim’s voice trembled. "Before I go, I have to see that she is protected from the harsh world in general and from Isaac Johnston in particular."
"Are you speaking of the Reverend Johnston?" Myles asked.
"None other." Jim replied. "That Bible-thumping, pulpit-pounding, self-righteous son-of-a-gun has turned Isabel’s head."
"Is she keeping company with Reverend Johnston?" The unflappable Mr. Donovan sounded shocked.
"Depends on what you call keeping company. The Reverend comes home from church with her nearly bout every Sunday," Jim added with disgust in his voice. "He stays for dinner and hangs around for most of the afternoon." After stopping again to gasp for breath, he asked, "Can you imagine what would happen to the Circle T if Isabel married the pastor of the Union Community Church of Cedar Crossing, Texas?"
"Do you think the Reverend would marry Isabel to get the Circle T?" A somber note crept into Myles's voice. "That would be a crying shame."
"Let's get one thing straight. I care about this ranch, but my first concern is Isabel. Our mama died when she was a just a slip of a girl. I practically raised that little filly." Jim’s weariness sounded in his voice. "Mother was a city girl. She didn’t bear up well under the rigors of ranch life. Isabel is just like her."
You are lying, Jim. Mama died of a broken heart. Papa's frequent affairs and numerous infidelities sapped her strength and crushed her spirit until death was a welcome escape. I am, by no stretch of the imagination, the meek, accepting woman Mama was.
"Do you want me to become your sister's guardian?" Myles asked.
"A guardian couldn't stop Isaac Johnston from persuading my plain, foolish little Isabel to marry him."
Isabel looked down at her slight, almost-boyish figure. She was no beauty, and she never would be. To be assessed in such derogatory terms, and by her own brother, brought pain and the sting of resentment. She held on to her control by reminding herself that she must remain calm long enough to learn the outcome of this ludicrous conversation.
Jim’s voice rose in pitch and volume. "What I am suggesting is that you marry Isabel. She ain’t that good looking, and she’s too hot-headed and smart-mouthed to get herself a good husband. Now I’m going to do that for her."
The deep answering voice was edged with hesitation. "I'll have to think about this."
"I don't have time for you to think," Jim stated with finality. "Either you grab onto it now, or the Reverend will end up getting my sister, and along with her, the ranch you want so bad."
Isabel waited for Myles Donovan’s refusal, but it never came. Instead, he said, "I'm set to throw my hat in the political ring as the next Democratic candidate for governor of Texas. Some of my political cronies think a wife would be a political asset."
Pride dictated that Isabel should put a stop to this foolishness here and now. Common sense argued that for once in her life she had better keep her mouth shut and listen.
"Your sister comes from a fine old Texas family." Myles continued. That makes her politically acceptable. She teaches my daughter, so Gwyn's acquainted with her."
Disgust coated Isabel’s tongue, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
"Then you are saying 'yes' to my deal?" Jim pressed.
Myles's tone was somber. "You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Absolutely. All I need is your word. Is it yes or is it no?"
To Isabel's total amazement, his deep voice answered, "Yes, but only because I can see how Isabel and I will both benefit from such an arrangement."
Jim's fragile rejoinder was barely a whisper. "You won't be sorry."
Her brother wanted to buy this conceited cowboy for his plain little sister? Whatever the price, he was probably worth it to someone who was interested. Isabel was not. She burst into the room.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
Jim's eyes widened. "I thought you went to church."
Isabel smoothed Jim's covers before giving his pillow a vicious jab. "Obviously, I did not. It's time for your medication."
"No. It's not," Jim argued.
Myles devastated her with a smile. "There’s no reason to be upset, Miss Delaney."
Isabel held onto a bed post. "Do I look upset?"
He was a gorgeous specimen of masculine beauty with his handsome face, azure blue eyes, curly hair, and a physique to rival that of a Greek god.
Myles's smile vanished. "Yes, you do." His gaze swung to Jim. "Do you want to talk to your sister? Or shall I?"
"You talk to her." Jim folded his arms across his emaciated frame and closed his eyes. "I ain't got the time."
Myles pointed to a nearby chair.
"Sit down, Miss Delaney." When Isabel didn't move, he took her arm and led her to the chair. "Your brother is anxious about your future."
His condescending words and patronizing attitude struck a raw nerve. "My brother is worrying needlessly."
Jim opened one eye and pierced Isabel with a sharp stare. "Humor your sick brother and listen to the man."
Isabel was not about to let her brother push her into an arranged marriage. Neither could she risk upsetting him. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. Myles pulled another chair directly in front of her.
"Your brother wants what's best for you. I'm sure you know that."
Isabel did know. In his own obstinate, uncompromising way, Jim Delaney loved her. She struggled to hold on to that thought.
Myles smiled that devastating smile. "He has talked to me about his concern for your future."
"We will discuss this outside." Out of Jim's presence, Isabel could explain that marriage between the two of them was out of the question.
Jim's eyelids lifted like curtains. "You will do your talking here." He closed his eyes. "Talk, Myles. Isabel, don't go butting in until the man has his say."
Myles rubbed the blunt ends of his fingers along the back of Isabel’s hand and grimaced, as if he found the task he was about to undertake distasteful. His touch sent little shivers sliding up her arm and dancing down her spine. That unexpected response brought a flash of heat to her cheeks and a touch of concern cramping into her stomach.
Myles shackled her wrist with his fingers. "Your brother is a sick man, Miss Delaney."
Tears filled Isabel’s eyes as she faced a truth she had pushed aside for months, that Jim’s death was inevitable and imminent. "I know..."
Myles dropped her hand. "Shoot fire, I've gone and done the one thing I didn't want to do." His voice softened. "Don't cry. Your brother and I will deal with this matter."
His nearness and his tender concern played havoc with Isabel’s senses. She lifted her face to meet his gaze and saw pity in the depths of those gorgeous blue orbs. Her defiant response turned to ashes in her mouth. "I suppose that would be best."
As she hurried from the room. Jim called after her, "Don't go too far. Later, I want to talk to you."
Isabel didn't stop until she reached the parlor. There she paused to catch her breath, before hurrying to the kitchen. She leaned against the wall and expelled a long breath, as anger replaced her confusion. How dare Jim think he could get away with this? And Myles Donovan was his willing accomplice.
"Those arrogant, thick-headed, low-down, no-good -- jackasses."
Mrs. Callaghan, the Delaney’s long-time cook and housekeeper, stood beside the wood cook stove in the far corner of the room
"Such language, Miss Isabel, shame on you."
Isabel ignored her reprimand and turned on her heel. "I’m going to Cedar Crossing."
"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Callahan called after her.
"Nothing I can't handle. If Mr. Jim asks for me, tell him I'm out."
An hour later Isabel sat across from Isaac Johnston in his small church office and watched as a bevy of conflicting emotions paraded across his face.
"Your brother did what?"
"Jim arranged a marriage between me and Myles Donovan. I overheard him and Mr. Donovan talking--
Isaac raised his hand to halt her anxious words. "Does your brother know you heard?"
Isabel nodded. "Yes. He thinks I will go along with this impossible plan." Her jaw set in a stubborn line. "I won't."
Isaac's scowling face was not a harbinger of good tidings. "Tell me everything your brother said." Isabel related the conversation she had overheard between Jim and Myles Donovan. When she had completed her long, halting, often-disjointed narrative, Isaac took her hand in his. "This may be God's way of answering our prayers. You’re in a good position to bargain with your brother. You can’t let him cheat us out of the ranch."
Us? The treacherous probability that The Reverend Isaac Johnston’s motives were not all she had thought him to be, moved toward realization. "Are you saying I should compromise myself and my beliefs?" Isabel pulled her fingers from his grasp.
Isaac's voice softened. "I'm saying that striking a bargain with your brother may be the only way you can hold onto a part of what is rightfully yours."
The one man Isabel thought to be above reproach was beginning to show his true colors. Nevertheless, his words had merit. "Please explain."
"In return for marrying Mr. Donovan make Jim give you a generous allowance, the ranch house and the surrounding outbuildings, plus some acreage. The Circle T covers over three square miles. He won't quibble over a house and a hundred acres, more or less." The taunt lines around Isaac’s mouth relaxed. "If you stick to your guns, Jim will come around."
It looked as if she had no ally. She did have a choice, such as it was. She could marry Myles Donovan and relinquish a portion of her self-respect, and all of her freedom, or she could defy her brother and take her chances on what he might do in retaliation. "I’ll talk to Jim tomorrow."

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