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 Secrets, Scandals,
And Seduction
A Historical Romance Boxset

Authors included are Lynn Donovan, Sofie Darling,

Alyssa Drake, Emily E K Murdoch, Cat Cahill, A.S.
Fenichel, Marie Higgins, Robyn DeHart, Christine
Sterling, Linda Rae Sande, Adara Luann, C.K.
O’Connor, Marianne Spitzer, Rose Pearson, Sophie
Smith, RL Ashly
Secrets, Scandals, and Seduction
Copyright 2022 Celtic Hearts Press
Published by Celtic Hearts Press
Cover Art by MIBL Art
Formatting by Celtic Formatting
Published by Celtic Hearts Press
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead,
organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
 Table of Contents
Sweet White Lies by Lynn Donovan
It Was Only A Kiss by Sofie Darling
A Perfect Recluse by Alyssa Drake
Wartime with a Warrior by Emily E K Murdoch
Charlotte by Cat Cahill
An Honorable Arrangement by A.S. Fenichel
His Lady by Marie Higgins
A Marriage Most Convenient by Robyn DeHart
The Letter Wife by Christine Sterling
The Bride of a Baronet by Linda Rae Sande
The Earl’s Unlikely Wager by Adara Luann
The Laird’s Promise by C.K. O’Connor
A Hero for Amaryllis by Marianne Spitzer
The Truth about the Earl by Rose Pearson
Duke of Despair by Sophie Smith
Isle Celare by R.L. Ashly
Sweet White Lies
Sweet White Lies by Lynn Donovan

Lynn Donovan
 Copyright

Sweet White Lies © 2022 Lynn Donovan

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American

Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or
dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and
is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Edited by Cyndi Rule
 Sweet White Lies
How can one sweet white lie cause this much trouble?

Sight unseen, Emilia Higginbotham’s parents will present to her

the groom of their choosing at her birthday soirée. With one sweet
white lie, she turns the table on their plans and selects the most
ruggedly handsome cowboy in the room to claim as her secret
betrothed. Little does she know he is the one that her parents had
chosen.
Jasper Weatherby has come to town immediately from a cattle
drive, summoned by his father to meet the bride they have arranged
for him. He knows nothing about her except that she is from a well-
to-do family in Colorado and her dowry is substantial. Side-tracked
by an amusing, yet audacious gal who coaxes him to go along with
her pretense, he soon realizes she is the one he was sent to marry.
Sweet white lies lead to misunderstandings and bigger untruths
for Emilia and Jasper. Can they recover from the deception and
uncover true love out of sweet white lies?
 Chapter 1
Salida, Colorado June 1883

“I won’t do it!” Emilia Higginbotham stamped her foot in protest,

turning her back, she crossed her arms over her chest. “And you
can’t make me!”
She peeked out of the corner of her eye to see if her behavior was
working. No surprise to her, it was not. She’d seen a girl act this way
back home in Georgia outside of church. She had managed to
dissuade her parents from their way of thinking.
Of course, that was over ice cream. This was much more serious
than a frozen treat on a hot summer day in Atlanta. This was for the
rest of her life, until one or the other died. Wasn’t that the promise:
’Til death do us part? Besides, she was older than that girl now,
much older. Practically spinster age. This birthday that her parents
were determined to ruin with a marriage arrangement would be her
twentieth.
Her family had established themselves well near a tiny new town
called Salida in Colorado. It meant “exit” in Spanish. That certainly
was an appropriate name for it. The way she saw things, few people
came here to stay. They came here to exit from the harsh Rocky
Mountains and find a better way of life in California or even Oregon.
She’d lived here three years, and in that amount of time, Salida had
established a post office, a bank, a schoolhouse, and even an opera
house. There was a new building popping up every week.
But she had no idea why. Who’d really want to live here? Perhaps
it wasn’t such an exit after all, now that she thought about it more
thoroughly.
The main business district had talented craftsmen setting up
shops. While it was not Atlanta, she had to admit, it was a town full
of gifted people and the quality of merchandise she and her mother
could purchase was outstanding. Father invested heavily in land and
that had paid off significantly, because those who did want to settle
here bought small portions of that land from him and Father had
become quite wealthy in this short period of time.
Still, it wasn’t Atlanta!
Acting like a child was not going to win her any favors with her
stern, business-minded father. Especially not today! Her father’s
mind was made. There was no changing it. He was more stubborn
than the Nubian goats they raised. Unfortunately, this particular
subject had been put off as long as she could manage to divert their
minds to other, more important topics.
With her twentieth birthday filling her parents’ minds with worry
for her future, she now faced the inevitable— marriage.
“It is time, Emilia.” Her father spoke purposefully, making his long
mustache puff out whenever his words passed from his lips. It was
amusing to watch. As a child it made her laugh, but she didn’t dare
let her amusement show now. He was serious and determined to
have his way.
“Your mother and I have put a lot of thought and effort into this
social event. We will celebrate your birthday, of course, but the truth
of the matter is… well, it’s all for the sole purpose of you meeting
the man we have painstakingly chosen to be your husband. He
comes from a good family—”
“You mean a rich family!” She uncharacteristically interrupted her
father while he was speaking. Lifting her chin a notch, hoping the
defiance disguised the tremble her bold outburst had caused.
He paused, mouth agape, the next words still hanging on his lips.
Her outburst had stopped him from uttering them. With a deep,
patience-seeking inhale, he closed his mouth and lifted his bushy
brows. “Yes. That term can accurately be applied to the Weatherbys’
financial status.”
“But Daddy!” She resorted to whining.
“Mister Alastair Weatherby” —her father leaned toward her for
clarity— “is a self-made man. His son, Jasper, will be no different. As
we have built our… financial status by purchasing and selling land,
they have built their successes through raising, breeding, and selling
cattle. Both are a lucrative business these days. You will want for
nothing—”
 “Except true love,” she muttered under her breath.
“And… your mother and I” —he continued as if he hadn’t heard
her, when she knew he had. Her father had excellent hearing— “can
go to our graves knowing you are well taken care of.”
“Oh Daddy, you and mother are young!” She twisted her fingers,
trying her best to convince him there was time. “You’re healthy! Let’s
not worry about going to your graves. You have years, decades, in
which to enjoy life. Please, don’t make me marry this… Jasper
Weatherby. What sort of man is named Jasper? He sounds like a
Nancy-boy.”
“Emilia Louise!” Her father barked. “I will not have such low-bred
language spoken by my only daughter in my house! Your
grandmother would roll over in her grave if she heard your coarse
language!”
“I’m sorry, Father.” Emilia assumed the appropriate humble,
ashamed posture. “It’s just… how can you honestly expect me to
marry a man named Jasper? It sounds like an evergreen tree. I
would be just as likely to call him Cedar, or Birch… Willow—”
“Jasper Weatherby is a fine name” —Oliver Higginbotham shook
his head— “and you will adapt to calling your husband whatever you
work out between the two of you. Your mother called me Mister
Higginbotham until you were born. Only then did she start referring
to me affectionately as Oliver… and now Ollie.”
A smile twitched under her father’s long mustache. A crimson
blush filled his cheeks. She never saw such strong emotion in his
face except when he spoke of her mother. Their marriage of
convenience had turned into a marriage filled with tremendous love
and admiration for both of them. Could she hope for the same… with
a man named Jasper?
The door to his den opened slightly. “Ah, here is my lovely bride
now,” he announced.
Emilia’s mother floated into the room. “Well? Have you convinced
your daughter to attend our soirée?” She smiled at Emilia with hope
in her eyes.
Father bristled, his mustache puffed slightly. “How is it that when
she’s being… difficult, you refer to her as my daughter?”
 Mother turned the hopeful smile into a mischievous grin and
focused it on him. “Because, Ollie Dear, when she’s being difficult,
she most resembles… you.” Maria teased with a playful touch on his
nose. But there was a twinkle in both of her parents’ eyes. She knew
they were not arguing.
“Mother…” Emilia continued with a loathsome whine when she
spoke. She hated acting this way, but desperation was strangling her
at the moment. “Must I go?”
“Yes, darling. You must. This is for your own good. We know best.
You would be wise to remember that.” Her mother tipped her head
slightly, then lifted her chin.
“Argh!” Emilia stomped out of her father’s den, defeated. He
wasn’t the only stubborn goat in this family. When her mother’s mind
was made, it was even more solidly set than her father’s.
Emilia trotted up the stairs and flung herself on her bed. The
tailored ball gown hung on the door of her wardrobe. Mother had
picked it out and the local seamstress, Mrs. Tucker, had made it for
her birthday soirée without seeing Emilia at all. She kept a card file
on everyone from the first time she took thorough measurements
and could create perfectly fitting gowns without a single new
measurement. Emilia peeked through her lashes at the dress,
hanging there, taunting her.
She had to admit the gown was beautiful. The light blue, silk-
blend rococo print with short trumpet sleeves, layered over a
champagne colored sheer fabric that fell gracefully from the waist
over taffeta of the same cream shade. The square neck delicately
trimmed with a hand-made lace, a Tucker signature to most gowns,
that softened the look of the bodice.
Emilia lifted on her elbows, glaring at the gown. She hated it. And
yet, she couldn’t wait to see it on herself. Not having gone with
Mother for fittings, she had never laid eyes on it until now, and she
had certainly never worn the thing. The color was exactly right to
accentuate her brown eyes. It would make her the belle of the ball…
but she had no desire whatsoever to go to this party. It was a farce!
Her birthday would end in an engagement and a public
announcement that the Weatherbys and the Higginbothams were
uniting their families by wedding their children and combining their
two businesses into one monstrosity that would control land and
cattle for thousands of miles.
She turned onto her side so the gown was behind her and huffed.
Ilsa Brown, the house maid, tapped softly on Emilia’s door.
“Come in.” Emilia sighed.
“Your mum asked me to, and I quote, ‘hurry you along.’” The maid
smiled sheepishly.
Emilia sighed. “I’m sure she did.” She couldn’t be angry with Ilsa.
She was the closest thing Emilia had to a friend here in Salida. With
an enormous sigh, Emilia lifted herself off the bed and sighed again,
hoping for an empathetic effect. “Oh, all right. But I promise you
this. I am not going to enjoy this birthday soirée one bit!”
“My job is not to make you enjoy anything. My job is to help you
get dressed.” Ilsa said jovially.
Emilia glanced at the ball gown with yet another sigh. “It is a
beautiful gown.”
Ilsa gazed admiringly at the frock. “Yes ’em, ’tis that.”
Emilia sighed once more and began the arduous task of getting
out of the day dress she currently wore and into the formal attire.
Guilt swamped Emilia heart for being so unappreciative of her
parents’ gift. There were many a girl in Salida who’d give her eye-
tooth to have such a lovely dress to wear. Emilia was blessed and
she knew it.
Blessed and cursed at the same time. Because her parents were
so wealthy, her future would be determined not by true love, but by
a solidly sound business arrangement.
Ilsa brushed Emilia’s hair until it had a golden-brown sheen, then
she twisted, and braided, and pinned it into a lovely design that
flattered Emilia’s heart-shaped face.
“Anything you can do about these sun spots?” Emilia glared at her
reflection in the mirror. She had always hated the dots on her face.
“Actually, there is.” Ilsa smiled. “Try this.” She pulled a small jar
from her apron pocket. “I made this from the goats’ milk. It’s good
for your skin and I added an herbal pigment to help cover up
unwanted age spots for your mother. Let’s see what it does for those
freckens” —She used the old Scottish word as a term of endearment
— “Although, I think they are adorable on you.”
“Oh, Ilsa.” Emilia chastised the maid. “They are called freckles in
America. You know that.”
“Yes, I forget sometimes. Been calling ‘em freckens all me life.”
Emilia frowned while Ilsa went to work. Touching her little finger
gingerly to the creamy, beige content, she dotted Emilia’s face and
then smoothed it out, hiding her discolored spots.
Next, Ilsa lifted a tiny rouge jar from Emilia’s table and opened it.
Emilia’s mother had given her the rose-colored pâté when she
turned sixteen. The maid lightly touched the thick cream and made
three dots along Emilia’s cheek bone, then smoothed it out, blending
it with the beige. “Here, put some on your lips.” Ilsa handed the tiny
jar to her.
Emilia did as told and popped her lips, making a smacking noise
that made them both giggle.
“You look lovely, Miss.” Tears filled Ilsa’s eyes.
Emilia looked more closely at her reflection. Did she look lovely?
Well, she looked as good as she could. Ilsa was talented with hair
and kind as a mourning dove. Emilia stood from her dressing table
and turned to have a look in the full-length, oval mirror.
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed. Taking in all of herself, ball gown, light
makeup, and hair done up so expertly. She did look… dare she say,
lovely.
“Thank you!” she uttered in an awestruck whisper.
“You’re quite welcome, Miss.” Ilsa smiled and stepped over to her
bedroom door, opened it, and stood back for Emilia to exit.
Her destiny awaited her, ready or not.
***
Jasper Weatherby leaned on his saddle horn with the rising sun to
his back. He watched the long shadows made by his men and their
horses as they funneled the divided herd into each livestock car. This
cattle drive ended here in Salida.
The train depot was new, about a year or so, and much more
convenient than the eastern route for getting his father’s herd to
market. While the trek to Salida was further, it was better than trying
to herd the bovine over the continental divide and then through
Denver City streets where they would get too stressed and even
wounded. Salida provided for an easier transition to market with the
cattle retaining their profitable market weight and health. Thus,
better sales for the Weatherbys.
He looked forward to lying on a soft bed at the hotel before riding
home. At least the ride home to Alma and the Flying W Ranch would
be at a quicker pace than the one that brought him here with two
hundred head of cattle.
“Mr. Weatherby?” a boy shouted.
He turned, shielding her eyes with a flat hand to see who called
his name. The leather saddle moaned under his weight. “I’m Jasper
Weatherby.”
The boy ran even faster toward him and leaned up on tiptoes with
an envelope Jasper recognized as a telegram.
“Thank you.” He fished out a silver dollar from his jacket pocket
and flipped it in the air for the kid to catch, which he did.
“Gee. Thanks, Mr. Weatherby!”
The boy ran off before Jasper could correct him as he always did
when anyone addressed him so formally. “My name’s Jasper. Mr.
Weatherby is my father.”
His words were lost in the breeze. The boy was long gone. He
sighed as he tore the end of the envelope off and pulled the folded
telegram into the sunlight. Then he sighed even harder.
“What are they up to?” he muttered as he read over the faint ink-
printed words a second time.
“I’m in no shape for a social event. Tomorrow? It’ll take a week’s
worth of soaking in a bathtub to scrub off all this grime. All he
wanted was a long rest and to head home at early light.” He resisted
sniffing the underside of his arm, knowing full well he stank to high
heaven after running these cattle along the western trail. The cattle
would be shipped further west to San Francisco and he would soon
pocket a hefty profit from the marketeer for his father. His hopes of
falling into a soft mattress in the Manhattan Hotel were dashed with
the telegram’s arrival.
 His parents would arrive soon and check into the Manhattan Hotel.
He was to join them this evening for a birthday party, dance, meet-
n-greet, whatever his folks wanted to call it, for a local gal named
Emilia Higginbotham— what kind of name was that?
The Higginbothams had made a lucrative marriage arrangement
with his parents. The party would be an opportunity for him to meet
his bride, celebrate her twentieth birthday, and announce their
engagement. That was why his parents were joining him for this
auspicious occasion. They wanted to be present for the public
announcement.
His days of being a free man were coming to an end. His parents
were determined it was time he settled down. He couldn’t imagine
himself married! Sure, it was a fine institution for his parents and
some of his friends, but he’d never seriously considered himself the
husband-type or under the controlling whims of a female. He’d seen
how his friends changed as soon as they said “I do.” It was not for
the faint of heart.
But it seemed, lately, it was the only thing his mother thought
about since he reached what was considered adult status. Now she
and his father had made a business arrangement for him to have a
wife. A wife with a substantial dowry, according to the telegram.
Was that the only item of importance when choosing the woman
he’d spend the rest of his life looking at from across the breakfast
table? He loved his parents, but he loved his life as a bachelor, too.
Why couldn’t his mother realize he would gladly settle down when
he was ready? He wanted to find a gal that was right for him. A gal
that he knew in his heart was the one.
A shiver ran down his spine. The last of the bovine entered the
last livestock car. He turned his steed to address the marketeer. The
man licked his finger and counted out the paper money until he had
what was owed the Flying W Ranch. Jasper folded the bills and
stuffed them in his inside breast pocket.
“Been a pleasure doing business with ya.” Jasper said as politely
as he knew his mother would have wanted and shook the man’s
hand.
 Turning to his waiting men, he shouted, “All right boys. Here’s
your pay.”
He divided out their portions of the earnings, including his own
pay so he could get a room, and the profit for his father’s coffers he
stuffed back into his vest pocket. “Let’s secure some hotel rooms
and get some rest. You’ll be heading back early tomorrow morning.”
“Hotel room?” Cheyenne Ferguson laughed. “Nah, boss. I’m gonna
find me a saloon and rent me a room upstairs, if you know what I
mean.” He said with a wink and a wicked grin.
Jasper nodded, but he didn’t approve. That just wasn’t how he
had been raised. “Well, just make sure you’re ready to go at sunup.
My folks are meeting me here… for some business we gotta take
care of in Salida, so I’ll put Cookie in charge” — he met the older
man’s gaze to confirm he accepted the new assignment— “He’ll see
you all get home all right. We don’t want to leave anybody behind,
so don’t give him no trouble.”
“Don’t you worry none about Cheyenne, boss.” James Black
trotted off beside Cheyenne, several others rode alongside them.
Only two of his men, Cookie, the chuckwagon master, and Scout, a
native employee and friend who did as his name implied, scouted
ahead of the herd to ensure they had plenty of streams and shade
for the cattle, joined Jasper to check into the hotel.
Cookie squinted one eye. “I’ll make sure they get home, Jasper.
You’ve got enough on your mind.”
What did he know? Had Jasper’s father told the old hand about
this matchmaking party happening in Salida? Not unless his parents
had known they were going to do this before he left on the cattle
drive. Otherwise, why would they inform him with a telegram?
Telling him of their plans while he was home would have been less
expensive. But Jasper had to admit, it would have been less
effective. Now he had no choice but to meet his parents and attend
the party.
Jasper nodded to the two morally respectable men with a smile.
He was too tired to get into what Cookie might or might not already
know. They rode in silence to the Manhattan Hotel. He asked for
three rooms, so they’d each have the privacy they deserved after
sleeping together under the stars, paid for the three rooms out of
his own pay, so it didn’t come out of their pay, as a reward for their
good behavior. Then he bid them good rest.
Alone in his room, he did sniff his armpit. “Whew!”
It was disgusting even to himself. He smelled like campfire smoke,
cattle, dirt, and soured sweat. Not a pleasant odor to be walking into
a birthday dance for his future wife. His imagination began to
wander. Her name was Emilia. He thought he liked the name, Emilia,
but he just couldn’t abide by the idea of getting married. He was
young, still. Never sewed a single wild oat, as they say. He wasn’t
sure what that meant exactly, but he’d never done it, and if he
married this gal his mother and father had chosen, he never would.
Should he join Cheyenne and James at the saloon for one last
chance to go to tiger town. Maybe later, right now that soft mattress
was calling to him. After a nap, he’d decide what he could do to
enjoy his last few hours of being a single man.
Jolted awake by a knock at his door, Jasper sat straight up.
“What?”
“Jasper, Darling, it’s Mother.”
“Mother!” Jasper repeated, trying to shake the cobwebs from his
mind. “I just woke up. What room are you in?”
His mother called the room number through the door. “So, we’ll
see you in a bit? We should go down together.”
“Uh, I don’t know.” He stood beside his bed. “I was thinking I
should buy Emilia a birthday present. I may just meet you in the
ballroom.”
“Oh, how nice. Yes, you should do that.” Mother’s voice softened.
“All right, then. We’ll see you at the party.”
Glancing at himself in the small mirror behind the water bowl and
pitcher. He had not planned on attending a formal affair, he had
nothing with him to get gussied up, as his mother would want. Sure,
he could probably pick something up for himself off the hook at the
mercantile when he found a suitable birthday gift for Emilia, but the
desire to dress up in an ill-fitted suit was not in his bones.
Stepping into the hall, cautiously looking for his parents in an
effort to avoid them, he strode to the front desk. “May I have my
clothes brushed, and my boots polished, please. And could you send
up a bathtub?”
The man behind the counter seemed tickled pink to accommodate
his every wish. Such a different attitude from when he and the other
two checked in. Obviously, Father had let the hotel know who they
were. Jasper rolled his eyes. He hated being pretentious. His father
seemed to thrive on it.
Once he had cleaned up, he’d go to the mercantile. He couldn’t
arrive without having his present for the birthday girl wrapped nicely
for her to open. What kind of cad shows up at his intended’s
birthday party without a properly adorned box? Besides, he needed
a diversion from his lingering cattle-drive aroma, his gift should be
just such a distraction, and an excuse to prevent his mother from
knowing what he was wearing until it was too late.
If his future bride didn’t like the smell of cattle and dirt, then she
wasn’t right for him anyway. The sooner he discovered her
tolerances, the better. He just hoped she wasn’t long in the tooth
and ugly as the day is long. A substantial dowry usually meant there
was something lacking in her appearance or personality. What had
his folks gotten him into? He wasn’t sure if he should pray for a
pleasant appearance or a pleasant personality. Did he have to settle
for one or the other?
After all, this was the woman he’d be looking at first thing in the
morning and last thing at night. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Lord, don’t let her be ugly!” he prayed, then headed back to his
room for that hot bath while the valet gave his leather jacket and
britches a good brushing and his boots a good clean shine.
 Chapter 2
Emilia chewed the inside of her cheek as she and her parents rode
to the Manhattan Hotel for her party. She faced the thin gap
between her father and mother. Father had to allow for the fullness
of her skirts by positioning his legs far to his right, while her mother
angled away from him to avoid entangling with Emilia.
Emilia was glad for the horse drawn carriage her father had
ordered the yardman, Bill Ferguson, to lease for their trip into town.
Riding in the wagon would have been uncomfortable, and when they
arrived, her hair would be a complete mess from the breeze, not to
mention how dirty her dress would be, and they would look like
rustic provincials who didn’t have two coins to rub together.
Being a land baron, her father certainly had more than two coins.
He had built a lovely home that sat above Salida in the mountains. It
was a handsome estate with three stories and a basement. Emilia
appreciated its grandeur after living more lowly in Atlanta, Georgia.
Her father’s success here in Colorado was not wasted on her
sensibilities. It was the insistence on her marrying a complete
stranger that had her sensibilities ruffled like a rooster standing with
his tail feathers to the wind.
It was her twentieth birthday and yet, it was ruined by this
betrothal nonsense being forced upon her. She moved from chewing
on the inside of her cheek to chewing on her lip. She had to figure a
way to convince her parents this was not a good idea. But how?
They were dead set on going through with this lucrative business
deal. Did her father care nothing for her happiness?
“You’ll want for nothing.” Her father had said. Well, she would
want for something! She knew she would. She’d want for a husband
who loved her with all his heart and wanted her to be happy above
everything else. Simply married and wealthy was not enough for her.
What if he was ugly! Or old! She had not thought to even ask about
this Jasper Weatherby. She only knew his name and that he was a
cattle baron’s son. Surely, if he was the son, he would not be old.
Could she hope he would not be hideous to look at either?
 Emilia swallowed.
“What is it, Dear?” Her mother looked concerned.
“Nothing.” Emilia quickly answered before she blurted out her
mind’s true thoughts. “I’m a bit nervous, is all.”
“Well,” Father chuckled. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.
You’ve been to parties like this before.”
“Yes, but—” She closed her mouth. There was no need to remind
Father that this birthday party would end with an announcement
that she would be wed soon. This evening, she would have to stand
in front of everyone, smile, and look like the happy, blushing bride-
to-be, while inside, she was afraid she would be ill from fighting the
vapors. She stared out the little window instead.
“Oh, come on, Darling.” Mother coaxed. “You love birthdays! This
one is simply extra special!”
Emilia pressed a smile toward her mother and gave an agreeable
nod, to make Mother happy. In truth, Emilia was fighting tears.
Soon, the driver stopped the carriage. The Manhattan Hotel, which
sat on the Arkansas River in the center of downtown Salida, was
beautiful. Built with locally quarried granite stones, it had a low-rise
castle look about it. Emilia had to admit, this was the perfect place
to throw a party. The ballroom was enormous, and the staff were
graciously accommodating. Her mother knew how to put together a
soirée that would be the envy of the whole town, and maybe a few
nearby.
They were intentionally forty-five minutes later than the hour that
the guests had been told to arrive. Another of her mother’s social
schemes, allowing Emilia, the guest of honor, to arrive poignantly as
if she were the queen or something just as worthy. Her father exited
the carriage first, put out his hand to her mother, who stepped down
gracefully.
Emilia prayed she could move as smoothly. She was known to step
on her hem and trip easily, or lose a shoe and end up hopping until
she found it. She gathered her skirts in one hand, gripped the inside
of her shoes with curled toes, and reached for her father’s hand with
the other. Slowly, she emerged. The taffeta skirts rustled as she
moved through the small door. At last, she stood, in one piece, with
her parents, and drifted to the entrance of the hotel.
The string instruments could be heard playing, as they ascended
the lovely wooden staircase toward the ballroom. Stone and wood
adorned everything from walls to windows. And every window gave
way to a view of the river and mountains. It was a lovely hotel.
Her nerves were balled up and it was a struggle to float, as she
had been taught, toward her grand entrance. The birthday girl!
Would her fiancé be the first to greet her inside? She had no idea
what Jasper Weatherby looked like. Would she make a fool of herself
by not realizing it was him?
She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and paused outside
the doors that were about to be opened, ceremoniously, just for her.
“Are you ready?” Her father asked as he grasped the ornamental
door handle. Her mother took ahold of the other handle. Together
they would open the door, and Emilia would walk in.
She nodded, with a single jerk of her head, and closed her eyes
again.
She felt the whoosh of air as the doors opened. The string
instruments swelled louder as the barrier was released for the music
to spill into the hall. She drew in another deep breath and opened
her eyes. Anticipating an overwhelming reception from those inside
the ballroom.
Couples were dancing, people were walking past the door, some
were talking along the perimeter of the room, a waiter carrying a
tray of edibles walked by, while another crossed the opposite
direction with a tray of fluted glasses filled with bubbling champagne
held over his shoulder. Emilia stood there— smiling brilliantly—
unnoticed.
Her father stepped into the room and cleared his throat. No one
heard him. He snatched a glass of champagne, and a spoon from
the other waiter with food, and tapped the silver against the bell-like
glass. The tinkling drew the attention of those closest to him.
“May I present!” Her father projected his voice over the noise as if
he were on stage at a theater. “Miss Emilia Higginbotham, birthday
girl and honoree for the evening!”
 The people gasped, and laughed, and someone began clapping. It
was contagious, soon the entire ballroom stood looking at her, and
applauding her appearance. Heat filled her cheeks. She feigned
humble dismissal of their applause, and shook her head, dismissing
the attention as nonsense. Her father handed her a fluted glass, and
then her mother, and lifted his own high over his head. “Happy
Birthday! My Darling Daughter! Emilia!”
The crowd did the same and the chant was echoed throughout the
ballroom. “Happy Birthday, Emilia!”
She sipped her drink and smiled graciously at everyone who
caught her eye. Where was this man to whom she was to be
betrothed this very night? Why hadn’t he approached her or made a
toast. Jenny Sanders, her best friend, ran to her, squealing about
how beautiful she looked. Hugging Jenny, she looked around for
someone who might be the man she would soon wed.
“Come.” Jenny grinned. “You must get a dance card. I’m sure all
the men will want to sign it.” Jenny pulled her over to a table with
the embossed cards and pencils. Emilia lifted one and wrote her
name across the top. She slipped the ribbon over her gloved wrist
and stood back with Jenny to see who asked her for the first dance.
The string quartet resumed playing and the couples resumed
waltzing or dancing to what the musicians played next. Emilia
watched the couples walk elegantly and sway through three other
dances before she had had enough.
Was the man she had been promised to in marriage even here?
She looked across the ballroom at all the faces. No one seemed
interested in her at all. Whoever this Jasper Weatherby was, he
either had not bothered to come to her birthday party, or he was
ignoring her entirely. Did she want him to find her and sweep her
out on the dance floor? Just then, the doors opened again, and in
walked a ruggedly handsome cowboy. How she wished her
betrothed could be this extremely stunning man. Her heart pounded.
Could others hear her silly heart? Then an idea came to her. She bit
her lip, acting on the idea before she returned to her senses, and
marched toward the cowboy.
 He looked out of place, glancing around for the appropriate
location to put the little decorated box he held. Was it a birthday
present for her? What else could it be? She marched up to him,
closer than she should without introductions, and clasped his arm as
if they were old friends.
“Play along, and I’ll give you ten dollars,” she hissed.
***
Jasper looked at the woman clasping his arm with a mischievous
grin. Who was this little minx? Did she think him a vagrant off the
streets who wandered in looking for food? Surely she realized he
was an invited guest with the gift in his hand. Had his disdain for
dressing formally left him to appear needy? He chuckled to himself
at the idea that ten dollars would entice him to play along with
whatever scheme she was about to do.
Rather, it was curiosity that caused him to see how this played
out. Cautiously, he let her drag him across the ballroom, handing off
his gift to a helpful hand that came from nowhere. He was here to
meet Emilia Higginbotham and her family. Would they be upset to
see him allowing this unruly gal to lead him into some game of…
whatever this would turn out to be? Ever vigilant, he was prepared
to state he had nothing to do with this woman’s game, should it turn
into an awkward or unkind situation.
He wished, not for the first time, that he had some idea of who he
was here to meet. At least then he could be aware if she or her
family were watching this impromptu interaction.
He stumbled and then matched her pace, surrendering to
whatever prank this was. Soon, they stood in from of a man and
woman who could easily be her parents. She had their combined
features. His eyes, her hair color and high cheekbone structure, the
jaw of the father and the beauty of the mother. Someone had
snatched his gift and put it wherever they were being held. So his
hands were free.
The mother was engrossed in some tale, and turned upon their
abrupt appearance, with her mouth gaping with surprise.
 “Mother, Father.” The woman spoke breathlessly. Her confidence
seemed to have faded while they traversed the room. He felt a slight
tremble in her hands, although her grasp on his arm had not
lessened. “I tried to tell you earlier, but you were not listening.” She
began. “I cannot marry the man you have chosen for me.”
Whoa! Is that what this was about? Jasper nearly jumped away
from her, but her grip was tighter than he had imagined the little gal
was capable of. Did she cling to him for strength or tomfoolery?
Her mother gasped and her father clinched his jaw. Her mother’s
eyes darted to see who might have overheard her outburst, and her
father followed through with clinching his fists into white-knuckled
balls. Was he about to punch Jasper in the nose? She had his right
arm clamped down at his side, could he defend himself with his left
arm?
“And why not, may I ask?” Her mother breathed.
“Because.” Emilia raised her chin a notch. “This is my fiancé.” She
jerked his arm a little for emphasis.
Jasper opened his mouth to protest he had no knowledge of her
claim. He turned to glare at her. But the pleading bulge of her eyes
caused him to close his mouth.
He was here to meet his future bride, not this crazed woman who
claimed him to be her fiancé! How did he get into such a pickle so
soon? He had just arrived. How could he get out of this mad
woman’s clutches? He stiffened, prepared for someone to take
control of her. What could he say to make anybody around them
understand he had nothing to do with this little theatrical display?
What was she really up to? Why had she chosen him out of
everybody else in this ballroom to make her declaration?
She darted a glance toward him. He met her gaze. A slight smile
took over his mouth. She was lovely and didn’t seem to have a glint
of crazy in her eyes. What was this about? Furthermore, who was
she? Where was his true fiancée and her family? Surely by now, they
were watching this boisterous exchange. Prepared to deny
everything, he stood statue still except to lift his chin and look her
father directly in the eyes. He opened his mouth to say, “Sir, forgive
me, I do not know this woman.” But before he could utter a word,
she continued with her fabrication.
“We met several months ago, and he and I have been secretly
betrothed. He is why I cannot marry the man you have bargained
for my hand.”
The father locked eyes with Jasper. How many marriage
arrangements had been planned for this evening’s gala? Could he
convey with his eyes that he was innocent in all these claims she
was making? He felt like the father was gawking at him like a
gunfighter in the street, looking for a weakness or a twitch, so he
could lift his side arm and kill him graveyard dead.
“Uh.” Jasper moved at last. “I can see that this has caught you off
guard.” He peeled his arm out of her grip. “I’m just going to go over
there.” He pointed at some arbitrary location away from the parents.
“And let you talk this out.”
He scurried through the people and found a table with mugs of
beer already poured and little crackers topped with what looked like
sliced sausage and cheese. He filled a little plate and grabbed a mug
and moved into a corner where he could hide for a little while. He
had to think. Where were his parents? What had the vixen gotten
him involved in? Would walking away resolve the dilemma? Had his
future in-laws seen the entire altercation?
He didn’t know who that feisty little gal was or why she had
commandeered him to be part of her joke, or whatever that was. If
his parents saw him standing with her, spouting claims of being
betrothed for several months, his mother would probably march him
out to the nearest woodshed and tan his hide, regardless of how old
he was. His mother’s switches knew no bounds and his twenty-seven
years did not prevent her discipline. He had been sent here for a
purpose and he couldn’t embarrass his parents by getting mixed up
in some other family’s sordid affairs.
He looked across the ballroom. That little gal was not with her
parents. Where had she gone. He scanned the crowd. She wasn’t
terribly tall or easy to find. Neither were his parents. Where were
they? He wanted to get this meeting and announcing his
engagement over with and get back to his hotel room.
“Hey.” The vixen slid up beside him.
He jumped as if a rattlesnake had shaken it rattler at his feet.
 Chapter 3
Jasper followed his mother across the ballroom to where his father
stood at a counter for drinks other than water or lemonade. A
sharply dressed bartender expertly blended the contents in a metal
canister with ice and covered the top to precisely shake it five times.
Ah, Father’s preferred drink. A Gentle Martini, he called it. Father
looked undone. What had happened to cause them to arrive so late
and in such a state? Perhaps Jasper was relieved that they had
arrived late and avoided his little theatrical charade that the
audacious gal he had left across the room caused. She had dragged
him into a lie for her own sake. There would be no shock on his
parent’s part when it was revealed the vixen was to be his
betrothed.
Glancing at his mother’s pale, weary face, he realized there was
cause for concern for both his parents’ well-being. They were never
late to anything! Ever! Something devastating had to have happened
to keep them this long.
“What’s wrong?’ Jasper focused on his father’s pale cheeks and
tautly compressed jaw.
Alastair Weatherby accepted the drink and tossed it back like it
was a one-ounce shot of whiskey, handed the man the glass and
gestured for another.
“Father! Tell me, what is wrong?”
He turned to Jasper gasping for breath from the nerve-taming
vodka and vermouth. He swallowed hard, “I have never in my life
experienced such a thing. These passenger trains will be the death
of me. I swear, I intend to invest in our own Pullman when we get
back home.
“Now, Dear, it wasn’t the railway’s fault… we made the mistake.”
His mother tried to soothe him. She turned to Jasper, “And we met
some very nice people today. I promised to send the missus my
momma’s Dutch apple-caramel pie recipe.”
His father’s face burned a brighter shade of anger. “I don’t want to
discuss it. It’s all sorted out now. We don’t have to keep bringing up
my grievous mistakes—”
“Grievous— Father! What happened?” Jasper exclaimed with much
less patience than he had ever been allowed to address the
patriarch.
Father sighed forcefully.
“We picked up the wrong travel case, Dear.” Claudette Weatherby
blurted. Her cheeks instantly filled with a flush so red, Jasper
wondered if she would succumb to the vapors.
His father darted a hostile glare at her, sighed heavily, again. “Yes.
We have spent this entire time searching for our correct luggage.
Thank God, the person who had taken ours by mistake returned to
the station to resolve the error. But it took a coon’s age to sort it all
out.”
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry.” Jasper pursed his lips to stay the chuckle
that tried to get him into deeper trouble. “But you’re here now, and
everything is all right?”
“Yes, Dear.” Mother replied with a nervous smile.
Father slammed back the second martini. “Now, let’s meet your
future in-laws and get this wrapped it.”
Jasper sighed. “Right. Uh, about that—”
He glanced around, wondering if the little vixen was staying put
with her friend in the opposite corner. He didn’t want her interfering
with this important next step in his journey of enslavement by
marriage. Drawing in a deep, settling breath, he followed his parents
to another part of the ballroom.
The two fiddles and bass played spirited dance tunes as the three
Weatherby’s ignored the dancing couples. His father perused the
people, finally landing his gaze of the target of his attention. He led
the family purposefully to a couple who was sitting regally, next to a
table strewn with ribboned gifts and a two-layer cake that had piped
icing spelling out Happy Birthday Emilia across the top layer. Sugar
flowers cascaded along the edge and over the sides. A display of
talent to be sure.
The closer they got, the farther Jasper’s gut sank to his knees.
This cannot be!
 Jasper let his father and mother go first, since Father knew the
man with which this arrangement had been made.
“Ah, Oliver Higginbotham!” Father addressed the man seated.
Mr. Higginbotham replied, “Alastair! You made it, at last.” He and
his wife stood.
“Yes, I must apologize. It seems there was a mix up with our
luggage and it took us a while to sort things out and get changed.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” The man bellowed a laugh. “Train
travel is a blessing and a curse, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Father glanced back at Jasper, gesturing for him to move
closer. Jasper struggled to loosen his tongue from the roof of his
mouth. Never had he been so cotton-mouthed. Perspiration
saturated his shirt. Thank God he still wore his leather coat, or they
would notice the stains encircling his armpits. He grabbed a frosty
glass of champagne as the waiter walked by and downed it in one
gulp.
“May I introduce my lovely wife, Claudette Weatherby.” Father put
his arm around Mother’s back and presented her with a slight shove.
“My wife, Maria Higginbotham.” Oliver stated.
Mother curtsied slightly and shook the mother’s hand. Jasper hung
back a little, dreading this moment. He drew in another calming
breath and prepared himself to step forward when Father introduced
him, but he also anticipated the explosive reaction when Mr.
Higginbotham laid eyes on him for the second time.
“Mr. and Mrs. Higginbotham,” Father began formally. “I am proud
to introduce to you our son, Jasper Richard Weatherby. He has just
completed a most profitable cattle drive to market here in Salida. We
neglected to inform him about this soirée, and I’m afraid he was not
properly prepared to dress formally, as he should. My apologies.”
Father bowed his head.
“Oh, that’s quite alright.” Mr. Higginbotham replied. “I, of all
people, understand mixing business with pleasure. Right, Dear?”
There was an awkward silence. Jasper assumed Mrs.
Higginbotham was supposed to reply but had not and everyone
waited a moment to see what she would say. Jasper took the
moment to look around the ballroom once more. Would that vixen
appear out of nowhere, like before? He didn’t see anyone who
looked like her on the dance floor. And she was too small to be seen
among those who stood around it. He glanced at the wallflowers to
see if perhaps she sat among them with her friend. Why weren’t
they kicking up their heels with the waiting gentlemen? Why was he
so fixated on that gal? Louise, she said her name was. He needed to
get her off his mind and focus on what was about to happen. His
utmost attention was needed for this introduction. He couldn’t ruin it
by scandalously searching for some other woman.
Jasper turned to meet his father’s pugnacious eyes. He stiffened
and stepped forward, as silently commanded. Turning from his
father, with his best, most personable smile, he extended his hand in
greeting, as he stepped from between his parents, and—
Gawked in awkward silence.
“Oh. I, uh,” Jasper couldn’t find the words. He stood before the
very same parents that he had participated in the theatrical lie about
being Louise’s secret betrothed. This birthday soirée and marriage
arrangement had been for Emilia Higginbotham. Was Louise her
sister? Did they have both daughters’ marriage arranged without
their first knowing the gentleman to whom they were being
betrothed?
The mother gaped at him. The father clinched his teeth. “Is this
some kind of a joke?”
Father’s face faltered, with shock. “No. I assure you, this is our
son, Jasper. I’m sorry he is not dressed appropriately for such an
auspicious occasion, but please don’t—”
“Enough!” Mr. Higginbotham growled. “Where is Emilia?”
“I’ll find her.” Mrs. Higginbotham scrambled, but only took one
step. Jasper turned to scan the crowd, as if he knew who he was
looking for. Was the friend who approached Louise the other
daughter? She was attractive. It would not be so bad to be married
to her. He searched for either of them. Just then, the same girl
popped out of the throng of people. Jasper smiled at her, thinking
this must be Emilia.
“Mr. Higginbotham, Mrs. Higginbotham.” The excitement in the
girl’s voice made her sound breathless. Mrs. Higginbotham joined
her husband, listening to the girl.
“Our birthday girl isn’t feeling well. She asked me to let you know
she has gone to her room upstairs to lie down.”
The Higginbotham’s looked alarmed, and then concerned. “What
now?” Mr. Higginbotham muttered.
Jasper rubbed his hand down his face. She could not be Emilia if
she addressed them in this way. This was getting very complicated.
Mrs. Higginbotham touched her husband’s arm in a wifely way and
whispered. “I’ll go see about her.”
Jasper watched the woman float through the people and out the
main doors of the ballroom.
“Now what?” Jasper’s father complained. Mother whispered
something to Father, and he turned back to Mr. Higginbotham. “It
seems we have an engagement to announce without the betrothed
couple to stand and be recognized.”
“Yes.” Higginbotham replied with a hiss. “And a birthday girl
absent from her own birthday party.”
 Chapter 4
Maria Higginbotham rushed into the ballroom, frantically searching
for her husband. She, like Jasper’s father, looked undone. Her voice
sounded as if she had been screaming and gone hoarse when she
called out to him. “Oliver!” She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Oliver!”
Mr. Higginbotham excused himself from Jasper and his parents,
aimed to attend to his wife’s concerns. Weaving around some folks
who were engrossed in conversation near a linen-covered table
adorned with a bountiful flower arrangement and dodging between a
couple dancing close to the edge of the designated floor, he made a
determined path to his wife.
Jasper, with instincts for trouble burning in his gut which had been
honed by many years of driving herds to market and anticipating
problems before they happened, continued to watch the man as Mr.
Higginbotham gently took his wife’s hand into his and peered into
her reddened, distressed eyes. “What is it, Dear?”
He glanced around as if he were embarrassed to be having such
an intimate, yet public moment with her. She spoke quickly near his
shoulder. He turned as if to scan the crowd. Jasper noticed how the
dancers continued to dance and the wallflowers continued to eat and
drink. The party continued despite the obvious, if one were to take
notice, concerns being exhibited by the hosts. Not a one of the
guests were bothered or interrupted from their jovial activities, while
the Higginbotham’s appeared to be falling apart.
They quickly approached the Weatherbys, apologetically. “I’m so
sorry, it seems our daughter is truly missing from the hotel, and we
must attend to this matter immediately.”
“Oh, Dear.” Jasper’s mother empathized. “Is there anything we can
do to help?”
Jasper snickered to himself. Leave it to Mother, head of the
women’s auxiliary and always gracious and kind, to offer help when
the girl had, in all reality, insulted his family by not appearing when
she should. He had no idea what she looked like, but if Louise was
her sister, then surely he could find Emilia.
“I’ll go look for her,” he volunteered.
The two sets of parents stared at him a moment. Emilia’s father
bobbed his head. “Yes. Yes, you should be the one to… find her and
bring her back here.” He turned to his wife. “What has gotten into
her?”
Maria shrugged and shook her head. Emilia’s father continued, “I
thought surely after—”
His words faded as Jasper moved through the celebratory crowd
toward the doors. “Jasper?” His mother eased up to him. “Do be
careful. It’s dark out and I fear for your safety.”
“Mother.” Jasper clasped her hands against his chest. “If its unsafe
for me, what chance does a fair lady such as Emilia have?”
“True.” Mother nodded. Resolve tightened her mouth into a
straight line. “Go find her, Dear.”
He kissed her cheek and darted from the room. How do you find a
woman you have never met? Would simply looking for a Louise
lookalike be good enough? Then again, this late at night, surely a
well-bred woman wandering the streets wouldn’t be that hard to
identify.
He rushed down the stairs and out the front doors. Looking left
and then right, he closed his eyes, letting his gut instincts, which
hardly ever were wrong, tell him which way he should go.
A high-pitched scream echoed through the dark streets. Jasper
leapt in that direction and ran like a scalded dog. Whoever the
scream came from may not be Emilia, but it was definitely a woman
in trouble! Darting his eyes about the streets, he homed his hearing
to where the scream had come from.
Another scream redirected him, and he turned toward it. Ahead,
about three blocks to the west, he saw a black surrey buggy in the
middle of the road. The horse whinnied and pranced uneasily in its
breeching. The surrey rocked back and forth as if someone inside
was tussling about. Another high-pitched scream rent the air, and
Jasper ran even faster to get to the buggy.
 He rounded the back side, clinging to the surrey’s frame, to slow
his momentum, and spun into the woman’s side. She jerked toward
him, wild eyed, gasping for air, and screamed in his face. “Help me!”
In that instant he realized it was the mischievous trickster from
the party! “Louise?” He stammered. Glaring at the filthy, dirty
scoundrel clinging to Louise’s arms still wrestling her about in the
buggy, Jasper barked, “Let go of her!”
Anger roiled in Jasper’s gut. Grabbing the driver’s wrist, he
squeezed hard enough to break bones and caused the man to
release her arms.
She leapt into Jasper’s arms, and he pulled her from the buggy,
standing her on her feet. Looking back at the driver, he ordered. “I
don’t know what you thought you were doing, but you made a big
mistake with this one.” Jasper took one step, rising on the step of
the buggy, cocking this right arm back, he swung his fist into the
man’s jaw! The would-be rogue crumpled like a rag doll across the
seat.
Springing back to the ground, he turned to Louise. “Are you
alright?”
Tears stained her pretty face. “Yes. I hired him to take me home,
but I don’t think he really worked for the livery.”
Jasper glanced back at the limp form lying unconscious in the
buggy. “Well, then, he doesn’t belong in this buggy.” He pulled the
man’s arm and flopped him in the dirt beside the vehicle. He never
stirred.
“Come on, we’ll take this and get you back to your sister’s party.
Your parents are worried enough with her missing. When did you
leave? Do you know where your sister went? Did you know she was
missing, too?”
Louise, stared at him. “What? What sister?”
Jasper spun around to look into her golden-brown eyes. He
considered her odd question. Slowly realization dawn on him. “You’re
Emilia?”
She jerked, as if the excitement of being accosted wore off and
awareness that he had her in a lie sunk in. Her eyes darted about
quickly. “No. No, I’m not.” She paused. “Th-that girl you met, who
picked up the coin, she… she’s Emilia.”
Jasper tucked his chin close to his chest and squinted his eyes.
“No.” He spoke slowly, deciphering the situation as he spoke. “She
isn’t. She’s the one who alerted your parents that you were feeling ill
and had left the party. Your mother went looking for you and was
distraught when she couldn’t find you in your room.”
A wave of guilt, or concern, flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Oh, dear.”
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
“I-I, it was just a sweet white lie, really. I didn’t do any harm.” She
lifted her chin a notch. “Besides, you lied to me, too.”
He dropped his jaw in dismay. “When did I ev—”
“You said your name was Richard.” She crossed her arms over her
chest. Her wide-open sleeves, like a lily blossom, trailed down in
front of her bodice.
He glared at her. “Well, in my defense—”
“In your defense, you lied to me!” she snapped.
“Not really. Richard is my middle name. What about you? You said
your name was Louise!”
“Louise is my” —she yelled, then softened her voice— “middle
name!”
“So, we both lied.” He concluded.
“I guess so. But—” She tilted her head. “Why are you out here?
“I told you, your parents are frantic. They don’t know where you
went, so I agreed to find you.”
“Even though you thought I was my sister?”
He glared at her. “Well, it wasn’t like you had made it very clear
who you were. I had to figure something out when I was dragged
over to your parents by my parents to meet my future in-laws and
realized it was the same people you had just denounced your
engagement to—“ He stiffened! “Wait a minute! You picked me out
of the crowd, a random cowboy, and lied to your parents about us
being secretly engaged! Whoa! You are something else.” He shook
his head.
“Well. I had no idea who they had made this business deal with. I
was terrified you would be some horrible old man with false teeth or
worse.”
Jasper stared at her a long while. “What could be worse than false
teeth?” He resisted letting a smile give away his mirth.
She shrugged. A grin quivered on her mouth, too.
“Look. I’ve gotta take you back to the party. Your parents are
worried sick. But I gotta be honest, I’m not so sure about this
engagement. You… you’ve got a problem with telling the truth and
I’m just not so sure I can abide by that.”
Emilia cocked her head back on her shoulders. “Huh. Well, that’s
fine with me. I have no intention or interest in being married to you,
either.”
She huffed and spun to turn her back on him.
“Fine with me.” He blurted.
“Fine.” She spat.
“Get in the surrey, and I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“No. I don’t want to go there.”
“Well, you’re gonna go whether you like it or not.” He scooped her
up into his arms and slung her into the seat. Climbing over her, to
keep her in the seat he held her down with one arm and lifted the
reins with the other.
“Yah!” He flicked the reins and the horse hurried forward.
“No! I won’t go with you!” She yelled, kicking and pounding her
fists against his arm.
“Yes, you will!” He barked back at her. “Ow.” She could hit hard!
Her fists felt like rocks against his forearm.
She kicked and fought but could not get out from under his
restraint.
Pulling up to the front of the hotel, the doorman tilted his head
questioningly as he realized Emilia was being held down by Jasper.
He looked unsure whether to help her down, or punch Jasper in the
nose.
“This is Emilia Higginbotham.” Jasper struggled to tell the
doorman. “She needs to be upstairs at her own birthday soirée.”
The door man nodded and steadied the horse’s reins instead.
Jasper scooped Emilia into his arms and leapt down from the
buggy. She huffed, as if the lunge had knocked the wind from her
lungs. He strode into the hotel with her kicking and fighting the
whole way. People at the desk turned to look with concern, but
everyone seemed to realize he had the situation under control and
allowed him to climb the stairs without interruption.
He kicked the ballroom doors open, causing them to swing and
bang against the wall. People gasped and turned quickly to see what
the commotion was about. They stepped back, parting a path for
him to carry Emilia inside. She had given up the fight and hung limp
in his arms. He marched up to where the Higginbothams stood
gaping at the spectacle and set their daughter on her feet in front of
them.
She huffed and turned at last to face her parents. With an
exaggerated sigh, she shoved her hair out of her eyes. “This man!”
She began slowly, lifting her arm to point at him. “This man… has
violated me!”
Her mother gasped and her father, once again, clinched his fists at
his side. He pursed his lips and glared at Jasper.
“She’s lying!” Jasper grunted. “And—” He turned to his own
mother and father. “If you think for one minute I’m going to be
strapped down to the likes of her for eternal matrimony, you got
another think coming.”
He turned on his polished boot heels and strode from the
ballroom. Leaving silence in his wake. Even the string instruments,
who had been unbothered by anything that happened in the room
thus far, stopped playing and everyone stared at his retreating form.
***
“Emilia! What have you done?” Her father growled.
She didn’t respond to him. She was too absorbed in glaring at the
door that Jasper had just slammed shut.
“Uh,” Mr. Weatherby stammered. “Let’s get together tomorrow and
discuss this.”
“Yes,” Emilia’s mother said. “Over tea, er, uh, in our home.”
With a nod between them it was decided. Emilia snapped out of
her burn-him-to-the-ground stare when her mother grabbed her arm
and pulled her to a specially arranged chair next to the table that
bore her birthday gifts. Mother leaned ominously into Emilia’s face
and spoke through gritted teeth against her ear. “You will sit here
and open your gifts from these generous people, and you will smile
and be gracious about every single piddly trinket you receive. Then
we will go to our room and discuss how we will repair the damage
you have caused.”
Her mother stood, with a lovely smile on her face and gave Father
a nod. Father clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention and
announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming
this evening to celebrate our daughter’s twentieth birthday. She has
asked if she might open her presents now.” He chuckled. “I think we
should let the birthday girl do just that, don’t you?” He clapped,
beginning the round of applause that filled the room.
The people cheered as they clapped. No one was the wiser about
Emilia’s devastating dismissal of her parents’ plans for marriage.
Champagne was poured into fluted glasses and passed out on silver
trays quickly by the staff while Emilia pulled a gift into her lap and
began untying the string. One by one, she opened each gift and
thanked the giver with as much decorum as she could muster. Deep
down, she was still angry, and yet, she knew she was in a lot of
trouble with her parents and probably Jasper’s parents as well.
Whatever Jasper thought of her or the encounter they had just had,
she couldn’t care less. He was a cad and a rogue… and… she sighed.
“The most handsome cowboy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“What, Dear?” Her mother leaned in to understand her mumbling.
“Nothing, Mother.” She turned to the person who anxiously waited
to know she liked their gift. “Thank you, it’s lovely.” She said as
genuinely as she could.
Her father handed her another package. She read the card. “From
Jasper Weatherby,” she muttered. How could she set this one aside
without aggravating her parents further?
Looking up at her father, she asked, “Could I get something to wet
my throat. I’m parched.”
While father took his eyes off her and snapped his fingers to order
a waiter to bring her a lemonade, she shoved Jasper’s gift behind
her skirts. Whatever he had bought her, she didn’t want to know.
Certainly, she did not want to open it in front of all these prying
eyes. He wasn’t here for her to thank anyway. Nor were his parents.
She’d noticed them slip out the door several packages ago.
With a pursed smile, she accepted another gift from her father
and pulled the lovely ribbon. “Oh, what a lovely ribbon. I shall keep
it for my hair.” She looked up to find the giver. Jenny stepped
forward with a sweet smile. “Jenny? Is this from you?”
Jenny nodded with excitement. “Well, thank you.” Emilia peeled
back the paper and opened the box. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Inside
were two beautiful mother-of-pearl combs for her hair. “These are
lovely! You’ll have to show me how to wear them.”
Jenny grinned from ear to ear. “I will.”
Another gift was shoved into her lap. She glared at her father for
being rude when she was ordered by mother to be gracious. One
last smile aimed toward Jenny, she untied the next package.
At last, all the packages but one were opened and set aside. Her
parents thanked the guests for coming and began gently gesturing
them toward the door. Mother and Father were as tired of this soirée
as she was. Feeling rather reluctant for the people to leave, she
engaged in conversations with as many of them as she could.
Stalling to avoid the tongue lashing she knew she would receive
once they got to the hotel suite.
But at last, the ballroom was empty except the hotel staff who
were standing by to begin the cleaning process. Even the quartet
were packed up and were walking out. Emilia sighed heavily. Father
had disappeared, settling accounts with those he owed for their
service during the party, Emilia assumed. Her mother waited for her
at the door. Emilia drew in another breath and let it out. She held
the gift from Jasper behind her back. “I’m coming.”
Following her mother, they walked to the suite Father had rented
for them, anticipating the celebration would go long into the night
and traveling home would be far too weary. She was indeed weary,
but it was barely past midnight. Solemnly entering the lovely suite,
Emily kept her back to the wall, as she bid her mother goodnight
and slinked into her designated room. Making her way to her
traveling case, she tossed the gift box on the bed and laid out her
sleeping gown. How she wished Jenny were here to help with her
lacings.
“Emilia!” Father bellowed from the common room. Emilia jerked at
the unexpected level of his voice. He never hollered like that while
indoors. Apprehensively, she walked to her door, and opened it,
cautiously peering out.
Her father stood with a horse whip in hand, held against his pant
leg.
Emilia gasped. She was in bigger trouble than she ever imagined.
Father had never whipped her in her life, was this evening’s fiasco
worthy of such a brutal punishment. Surely her father did not realize
what a monster Jasper had been. Even though he did save her from
that horrible man pretending to work for the livery, he had otherwise
been horrible.
“Father?” Emilia attempted a gentle, heart-felt approach to reason
with him.
“Emilia Louise Higginbotham, you humiliated your mother and me
this evening. You are spoiled and unreasonable.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes. I was.” She decided honesty was her best
policy. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cause you and Mother such
embarrassment.” She eyed the whip and prayed she could talk him
out of using it on her.
“Embarrassment! This was much more than just an
embarrassment! This was a gentleman’s agreement. You cost me a
sound relationship and business opportunity with an extremely
lucrative potential partner.”
“No, Dear.” Mother, who had gone completely pale, tried to reason
with him. “The Weatherbys said they wanted to get together
tomorrow… er later today, to discuss our options. Let’s not jump to
conclusions—”
“Be quiet, woman, or you will be next.” He snarled.
Mother collapsed onto a divan at his harsh words. Her lips
trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
Emilia gasped, stepping back from him, covering her gaping
mouth with the back of her hand. She’d never seen Father this
angry. “Father, please! I’m so sorry.” She hated the tremble in her
voice, but now was not the time to project anything other than
vulnerability and fear. Surely he would soften with a sincere apology.
“I didn’t realize the extent of… your investment in this…
arrangement. I’ll make amends… tomorrow. I swear!”
Her father snapped the horse whip against his leg. His lips went
taut and his eyes narrowed. Would he truly take the stiff, leather-
covered whip to her behind! She was a grown woman after all. But
as an unwed twenty-year-old, she was a liability to him, and
apparently he was through carrying that burden. She really had little
choice in this matter.
Afraid to run into her room, terrified of moving any closer to him,
she stayed where she was, but grasped the door frame to keep her
knees from giving way. She wouldn’t collapse to the ground. The
thought of sinking to her knees and begging him not to whip her
crossed her mind, but her stubborn pride just wouldn’t allow her to
sink that low. She’d take the whipping if she had to before she’d do
such a thing.
Enduring her father’s penetrating glare, she waited.
A whimper came from the couch. Emilia turned her gaze, as did
Father, to see her mother pale as death, yet covered in dew as if in a
fever. Her lips trembled as she squeaked barely above a whisper.
“Ollie, please don’t.”
Father held his ground a moment longer, then rushed to Mother’s
side. “Maria, Darling. I’m sorry. Don’t fret so. You’re right.” He took
her limp hand into his and stroked it gently. “We will settle this
matter later over tea. I-I lost my temper is all. Come, let me take
you to lie down. Do you have your heart tonic?”
She nodded weakly.
Emilia watched the exchange with her parents. What heart tonic
was this? Was mother truly this ill? How had she not known. Father
gathered Mother into his arms and slowly walked her to the larger
bedroom on the opposite side of the hotel suite. Relieved she would
not be whipped, but scared for her mother’s obvious frail health,
Emilia backed into her room and closed the door. Kneeling beside
her bed, she prayed for her mother. When she said Amen, she lifted
her head. Her eyes were level with the covers and in the center was
the box, keenly wrapped by an someone other than Jasper, she
decided.
Rising, she sat on the bed and pulled the ribbon. What could he
have possibly thought she would want for her birthday? He didn’t
know her at all when he arrived with this gift. He didn’t really know
her now. She had not revealed her best traits to him at the party, or
when he saved her from the would-be assailant. She had accused
him of assaulting her in front of the entire company of party
attenders. She’d been awful!
Laying the ribbon aside, she peeled the paper away and slid the
lid off. Inside was a red velvet box. Emilia turned the outer box over
and let the velvet one slide out into her hand. She paused. What
could this be? Slowly, she pulled the top of the box open. Its hinge
creaked with a slight resistance. Emilia stared at the contents,
tucked into a white satin lining. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
This was his birthday present to her? The most beautiful oval ruby
set in black gold and flanked by two small white diamonds on either
side, then two oval aquamarine diamonds. It was a dazzling ring.
She’d never seen anything this exquisite. Had he intended it for an
engagement ring?
He was supposed to propose to her this night and the birthday
party was supposed to change into a betrothal celebration instead?
It only made sense. Her heart ached. She had really ruined this
night for all involved. A man who would pick out such an exquisite
ring to propose marriage couldn’t be nearly as horrible as she
thought Jasper to be. Could he?
Had she completely misjudged him? Would he ever forgive her?
 Chapter 5
Emilia dragged herself from the bed when a valet knocked on the
suite door. Apparently, Father had ordered a wake-up call at ten
o’clock. Emilia and her parents staggered into the common room,
looking haggard. Apparently, no one slept well. Could anyone truly
rest after everything that had transpired? A coffee cart was brought
in, and Emilia poured herself a cup, splashed some cream into the
dark brown liquid, and added a cube of sugar. The caffeine was
welcomed by her exhausted mind. Mother emerged from their room
with red, swollen eyes and headed to the coffee as desperate for
caffeine as Emilia.
After coffee and sweet rolls were consumed, Emilia retreated to
her private room to powder her face and comb through the rat’s nest
that had been her lovely hairdo designed by Ilsa, her mother’s ladies’
maid. Brushed, tied, penned into a loose bun on top of her head,
she changed into a traveling dress for the short ride to their home
just outside of town. She hoped for a moment to lie down once they
returned home. Mother had invited the Weatherby’s to tea to smooth
things over. That would be at four o’clock, and Emilia would be
expected to be on her best behavior once they arrived.
She had a new-found respect for her father’s demands, recalling
the snap of the horse whip at his side last night, or was it earlier this
morning? She’d never thought her father would resort to such cruel
punishment but apparently her encroaching spinsterhood weighed
heavily on Father’s mind, or at least the lucrative business deal he
had made, pending her marriage to the Weatherby’s son, was more
important than any precedent established between her and her
father.
Mother, Emilia had discovered, suffered from an ailment and had
to go to bed with some sort of elixir to calm her heart. When were
they going to tell Emilia about that? She didn’t ever want to cause
her mother to worry to the point of having another spell like she did
last night, or was it earlier this morning?
 Emilia shook her head. Her mind was filled with cobwebs from lack
of sleep. She needed more rest. Surely she could slip up to her room
and catch a catnap before afternoon tea.
Glancing at the red velvet box she had set on the dressing table,
she thought back to the ruggedly handsome cowboy she had
mistaken for some random fellow that she could manipulate and
trick her parents into forgetting about the marriage agreement. He
had been one and the same person to whom she was to be
engaged. And he had brought this ring to seal the proposal. She
hadn’t even tried it on. There was something strangely uncertain
about the ring. It just didn’t feel right for her to wear it until he
officially gave it to her.
She knew she’d be wearing it by sundown. Her father was very
clear that she truly had no choice in this matter. She pulled the top
open and stared at the lovely red ruby and soft blue stones on either
side. The black gold was unusual and set the stones off in a lovely
contrast. She reached to lift it from the satin lining but stopped
herself. No. Jasper needed to be the one to put it on her finger.
She closed the box and put it into her reticule. Gathering her
birthday gown, wrapping the folds of the skirt in tissues like Ilsa
would have done, and gently placing it in the box it had arrived in,
she placed it with her overnight case. A bellboy would show up soon
to take everything down to the carriage Father had rented. This had
been an expensive ordeal for it to have turned out so miserably
wrong. Her contribution to making it all wrong weighed heavily on
her heart. Hanging her head, she walked into the common room to
join her mother in waiting for the bellboys to let them know the
vehicle was ready.
Mother looked better, having powdered her face and added a
touch of rouge. Emilia smiled at her and looped her hand through
Mother’s elbow. “Are you feeling all right, Mother?”
“Yes, Dear. Do not worry about me.” She patted Emilia’s hand at
her elbow. “It’s you I worry about.”
“Why? I’m fine.” Emilia furrowed her brow.
“I know you are. You’re much stronger than I ever was. But that
may be your undoing.”
Another random document with
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angel’s wings. By night the moon goddess rose in silvery beauty and
bathed the garden in light; it kissed the leaves of the bamboo, until
the dew sparkled upon them like diamonds in a setting of silver.
Fragrant flowers bloomed at the bamboo’s feet: irises from their
meadow home, azaleas, rare lotus lilies, and a fringe of purple
wistaria wafting its breath in friendship upon her. Here she grew in
strength and grace. All things were her friends, for she gave to all of
her sweetness; and to the winds she bowed her head.
“Great North Wind,” she said gently, “how thou art strong!” And to
the South Wind she said, “How sweet and kind thou art!” To the
flowers she gave shade and to the children, who still loved her,
companionship.
“the great bamboo, prostrate upon the ground”
 One night she shivered and bowed her head very, very low, for
there came a storm from the sea, a storm so fierce and wild as to
frighten her very soul. The waves of the sea tossed the white foam
heavenward; they rose up in giant walls of fury until ships sunk in the
troughs between and were dashed to pieces. The beach was strewn
with wrecks, and when daylight came, Lady Silver Mist gazed upon
the scene. She recognized her old friend, the great bamboo,
prostrate upon the ground, while all around him lay bits of the junk
over which he had reared his haughty head.
“Alas! my poor friend!” she cried. “What a sad fate is yours! Would
that I could aid you.”
“No one can help me,” he replied with a moan. “Would that I had
been made into a common coolie pole with which to push a country
junk! Then might I have been useful for many years! No, my heart is
broken, Silver Mist. Farewell.”
He gave a long shuddering sigh and spoke no more. Soon some
men who came to clear up the wreckage, chopped the mast up for
firewood; and that was the end of the boastful bamboo.
 Footnotes
[5] Sash.
 THE ANGEL’S ROBE
Once an angel bore to earth the soul of a child. She bore it to a
little bamboo house beside a bamboo tree, and there it received a
loving welcome. Many friends gathered around to greet the little
newcomer as soon as they saw the kite[6] fly up from before the
house. Dear little kimonos were given the baby. One was of the
finest silk and embroidered with the crane and the pine; for these
mean long life in Japan.
The angel loved the little child she had brought, and she tarried
long at the window of the little bamboo house among the trees and
flowers. She felt glad that she had brought the little one to such a
happy home.
She had left her robe in the trees; for it had caught there in her
flight, and she had not waited to remove it. A fisherman passing by,
saw the beautiful, floating silk and, loosening it, he said, “This is a
very pretty thing. I have never seen anything like it before. I shall
take it to my sweetheart.”
The angel heard him as she floated through the air, and she cried,
“I pray you, sir, give me back my robe! I may not return to heaven
without it!”
“Do not return, fair one,” he replied, dazzled by her radiant beauty.
“Stay here upon the earth and delight us all with your grace.”
“Not so, not so,” she cried in fear. “Know you not that an angel
may not stay long on earth and live! Her beauty fades, her soul
grows sick within her, and soon she is no more. Give me my robe
and let me return, for I pine for the pearly gates and the golden
streets.”
“I will return it if you will dance for me,” said the fisherman; and the
angel consented.
“First give me my robe that my dance may be more perfect,” she
said.
“No, no, my beauty,” he answered, “for then you will fly away and I
shall never see you dance.”
 “Fie upon you, base mortal! Deceit was born of man; the heavens
know it not!” she said in displeasure.
Then the fisherman was much ashamed and gave her the robe;
and she danced for him a dance of wonderful grace and beauty,
such as mortal had never dreamed of before. He wished to gaze
forever at the lovely, floating being. The moonlight shone upon her,
bathing her in silvery light, beneath the feathery bamboo, with snow-
capped Fuji above the clouds, calm and serene.
While she danced, visions of heaven came to the fisherman, and
when she was wafted from his sight by a snowy cloud, he sank upon
the ground and, covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly, as
he cried, “Alas! alas! Nevermore will things of earth seem fair!”
“she was wafted from his sight”
 Footnotes
[6] In Japan a kite is always sent up from a house where a little
boy is born.
 THE MOON AND THE CUCKOO
In the far years of the twelfth century the Lord Mikado was cursed
with a terrible illness. All Nippon prayed to the gods. Men offered all
their richest offerings to appease the wrath of heaven, but it availed
them naught. His Majesty grew worse and none of the great men
who came to him could divine the cause of his trouble.
Every temple was full of devotees. Each shrine had its worshipers,
but Sorrow was the guest at every door. His Majesty grew worse and
worse, and every night was stricken with a horrible nightmare.
At last it was noticed that each evening a dark cloud moved across
the heavens and hung over the palace. From it shone two fiery orbs,
gleaming fiercely. The priests prayed and threatened, but the
brooding demon remained. At last a young warrior whose name was
Yorimasa came forward and said, “Let me slay this horrid beast who,
with his black breath and fiery eyes, threatens the life of our beloved
emperor. If I fail I can but die and my life is the Mikado’s in any case.
Let me go!”
“from it shone two fiery orbs, gleaming fiercely”
 “Go, and the gods go with you!” the priests replied, and Yorimasa
went forth to conquer or to die.
He breathed a prayer to the great god Hachiman, his patron, and
set a heavy arrow in his well-strung bow. Twang, went the bow
string, and lo! the arrow brought the monster low. It was indeed a
fiend, terrible enough to have destroyed the emperor, for it had the
head of a monkey, the claws of a tiger, the body of a lion, and the tail
of a mighty serpent.
Yorimasa was brave, however, and he made at the beast with his
good sword. Nine times he plunged it into the ferocious monster’s
breast, and at last it fell dead.
The emperor now promptly recovered, and wishing to reward
Yorimasa for his bravery, he called him and said: “At the risk of your
own life, you have saved that of your emperor. What will you have in
reward?”
Yorimasa answered, “Most August One, my life was your own.
Why should I not risk it to save that for which all Nippon would be
honored to die? I claim no reward. In my heart is joy that I have
served my emperor.”
“But I will reward you,” said the Mikado. “For I should be as just as
you are generous. Here is the sword Shichi-no-O (the King of the
Wild Boars) for since you can wield a sword so nobly, it is fitting that
you have a noble sword, my brave Yorimasa. Two things delight the
heart of brave men, love and duty, woman and warfare. Since you
have been successful with the one, I will give you success with the
other. It has come to my ears that you love Ajama[7] and that she
loves you. Take her and may you be happy and may your children
live and prosper and grow up to serve their emperor as their father
has served his.”
Then Yorimasa bent low before him and thanked him; and a
gentleman of the court composed a verse about Yorimasa, and sang
a song to him in which he compared his rapid rise into favor to the
cuckoo’s flight toward the crescent moon. But Yorimasa was as
modest as he was brave and would not admit that he deserved any
special praise. So he answered the poet’s song by singing these
lines:
 “Like the cuckoo
So high to soar
How is it so?
Only my bow I bent,
That only sent the shaft.”

But he and Ajama were soon married, and lived happily ever after,
in the sunshine of the Mikado’s favor.
 Footnotes
[7] Ajama, Flowering Sweet Flag. In Japan all women are
named for flowers.
 THE HANG-THE-MONEY-UP TREE
Once upon a time, nearly a thousand years ago, a man named
Ononatakamura offended the Mikado and was sent into exile. His
wife loved him dearly and wished to go with him, but, though she
cried and begged to be allowed to do so, the Mikado would not
permit her.
In her despair at being separated from her beloved husband, she
made up her mind to go to the Sacred Shrine of Isé and pray for him.
She stole quietly away to the foot of Mt. Hi-yei, but not being used to
walking she soon grew weary and sat down to rest under a pine tree.
It was a beautiful country that she looked upon. The hillside bloomed
with flowers. The pines waved their green branches against the soft
blue sky, and, serene and lofty, the mountains rose heavenward. A
kind wind caressed her brow as she sat resting, and the murmur of
the trees seemed to bring her comfort.
A farmer coming that way, she spoke to him saying, “Good day,
kind sir. Pray tell me how far it is to the temple of Isé?”
“Twenty days’ journey,” he made answer, being a rude fellow and
unkind. He wished to annoy her, for he knew well it was not so far.
“i will here make my offering”
 “Alas!” she sighed. “I shall never reach that sacred shrine! How
then shall my dear husband be brought back to me! Surely the gods
will hear the prayer of a faithful wife, no matter where she may be. I
will here make my offering and my prayers, and the Eternal Kindness
will hear.”
Then she hung some coins upon a pine tree, and prayed earnestly
that the gods would bless her husband and take her to him.
The farmer heard her, but his heart was still hard, and when she
went aside to rest he tried to steal the money from the tree. But the
gods had heard her prayer, and the tree suddenly turned into a two-
headed serpent which spit fire at the thief’s approach. The farmer
was so terribly frightened, that he repented that he had been so
unkind; and he took the woman by the hand and led her in safety to
the shrine she sought.
Then were her prayers answered, for the gods softened the heart
of the Mikado, and when one told him of the devotion of this good
wife, he sent for her to come to his throne.
“So faithful a woman should have a reward,” he said. “What will
you that I bestow upon you?”
“The return of my husband, Most Revered One,” she answered;
and straightway he sent word to Ononatakamura to come back from
exile.
Of the pine tree upon which the money had been hung they made
a shrine. Whoever was ill of any complaint, and prayed there, was
made well; and whoever besought there any favor of the gods was
sure to receive it in abundance. And from that time the place was
called the “Shrine of the Hang-the-Money-Up Tree.”
THE GODDESS OF GREEN-GROWING
THINGS
Amaterasu, the sun goddess, loved the earth. So long had she
shone upon it with her gracious light that it was to her as a beloved
child and she wished for it all good things. When she found growing
from the body of Ukimochi, whom Susanoo had slain in wrath, a
mulberry tree, and also a silkworm, rice grains, barley and beans she
said to herself,
“Behold, the gods make good to grow out of evil. From death
comes life. The slaying of Ukimochi was a deed of wrath, yet from it
will come peace to the people of the earth.”
She made barley and beans the seeds of dry places, and rice the
seeds of moor and fen. Mulberry trees she planted upon the
hillsides, and upon these she reared silkworms so that the art of silk-
weaving might begin.
Having thus given to the world things of such usefulness and
beauty, the sun goddess desired to have them cared for. So she
commanded Susanoo to send to earth his daughter, Mihashirano. He
obeyed and the daughter came down from heaven. But she could
find no place to live, and therefore wandered for a long time to and
fro in Nippon.
One day a fisherman named Sakino, who lived at Itsuku, one of
the isles of the sea, was casting his nets near Okanoshima. As he
fished he saw a curious boat with a bright red sail coming towards
him. There seemed something strange about the boat; and Sakino
waited until it sailed close to him. Then he beheld upon it the
goddess Mihashirano, who spoke to him.
“Sakino,” she said, “long have I passed to and fro in the Isles of
Many Blades, and watched by field and moor and hillside to see the
life-giving seeds which Amaterasu bestowed upon you. Well
nourished have they been and watched so that you have had much
rice and barley. Now, wherefore have I not a shrine built in my honor,
where men may come to bring thanks, and where I may dwell in
peace?
“Go thou to the Mikado and request that he build for me a temple
at Miyajima; then will I protect the Mikado’s land forever and ever.”
Sakino hastened to Kioto and revealed all this to the Mikado. At
that time there was a great famine in the far provinces of Nippon,
and the Mikado said, “The goddess is displeased with us, and so this
famine has come upon my people. Hasten your return to Itsuku and
build there a temple to do her honor. Here is much treasure; go
quickly and build.”
“it flew ahead of sakino’s boat”
 Sakino was delighted with this task, and he hurried homeward as
fast as he was able. He could not at first decide which would be the
best place for the temple, so he sailed around the islands seeking
the loveliest spot. Then as he sailed a strange thing chanced; for
from the very top of the mountain flew a huge bird, and it flew ahead
of Sakino’s boat all the way. This he took as an omen, and he
followed the bird closely until it stopped and hovered over a wooded
hillside.
“Here we shall build the temple of Mihashiranohime-o-kami, the
gentle goddess of the earth’s fruitfulness. We shall raise a temple to
do her honor,” he cried. “The torii shall rise up out of the sea; the
light-bearing pillars shall guard the entrance, and men shall come
from far and near to see the shrine. Then shall they see how the
Goddess of Green-growing Things is honored in the Land of Many
Blades.”
This he did and the goddess dwelt happily in her abode, and there
was no more famine in the land; for the shrine of the Goddess of
Green-growing Things is to this very day honored in the isles of
Nippon.