The stagecoach rolled into Bridgerton just about noon. The "Welcome to Bridgerton, the Town with a Future" sign was still hanging from the stage coach depot, but there wasn't a soul in sight to welcome Mr. Bridger, Mr. Brock, and Mrs. Pudlington when they pulled up in front of it.
Bridger literally climbed over his subservient clerk to exit the coach first, leaving the younger, slighter man to struggle with Mrs. Pudlington, helping her to disembark. Mrs. Batenhorst would have been scandalized at the shocking display of ankle, calf, and even a flash of knee, but no one seemed to notice.
"Deliver my bags to my home," Bridger commanded the driver and stalked toward the sheriff's office.
Bill Harrison rolled his eyes. "Shecky owes me big time," he muttered to himself as he climbed down from the driver's box. "Don't know how he puts up with that arrogant SOB." If the poor man hadn't looked so miserable that morning, no way would he have offered to take his place on the Bridgerton run…
"Smith!" Mr. Bridger bellowed as he pushed the door to the jailhouse open, only to be met by Deputy Clayton on his way out.
"Clayton, where's the sheriff?" Bridger demanded.
"He's over to the schoolhouse, Mr. Bridger! The whole town's there! They's welcoming the new teacher! Wait'll you hear what happened to her! What a gal!" Clayton, clearly enamored with the town's latest celebrity, rushed out of the jailhouse to join the festivities.
"What!?" The banker blustered, red-faced. He had been about to report that the erstwhile new schoolteacher had eloped in the night with the notorious outlaw Kid Curry and that this time the school board had better listen to HIM and hire a man. Now he was being told that not only was she right here in town, apparently she was being feted.
Bridger hastened down the street as fast as his stocky legs would propel him. When he reached the newly built little building, he saw that, indeed, the entire town was assembled beneath the shade trees in front of the wooden schoolhouse. The board benches and mismatched chairs set up on the lawn were crammed full of people. Still more sat upon blankets spread upon the grass while others stood, all craning their necks to see the petite figure in front of the schoolhouse, surrounded by what must have been every single child in Bridgerton, dressed in their Sunday best. They must have closed the bank, he scoffed to himself when he spotted several of his tellers among the crowd. And there was the barber, the blacksmith, the grocer – even Horace, the telegrapher! "This is no way to run my town," he mumbled. Then he spotted the sheriff and the mayor, seated near the front. He pushed his way through the crowds impatiently.
But before he could get to Mike and Wade, he was intercepted by his own wife, the tall, angular Ida Bridger, the only person in the world whose opinion ever held any sway over him. In fact, she was the one who had come up with the name of "his" town. He had wanted to name it Bridgerville until she suggested the much classier sounding Bridgerton.
"Harold," she cried, "Darling! It's okay. Don't fret. She's fine, thank Providence. Why, you must have been worried sick, not knowing what had become of Miss Grady. You must have searched high and low. But she's here, she's safe. Come sit, dear. You've missed most of the speeches, but the children are about to sing a song."
The founder of Bridgerton sat obediently next to his wife and listened to the sweet soprano voices of Miss Grady's new pupils. As soon as the song was over, the crowd around him erupted in applause, then began chattering, as if resuming a previously interrupted conversation.
Bridger soon discovered it was way too late to change anyone's mind. His own tale of the robbery was met with little sympathy, since the Bridgertonians had already heard that story, plus the far more terrible (and exciting!) one, in which the highwaymen had stealthily entered the way station inn under cover of darkness and carried the pretty young schoolteacher away by force. Everyone was talking about the brave little schoolmarm and the gallant Mr. Jones, (whom they considered one of their own, most of the townsmen having met him and most of the townswomen having swooned over him), bravely rushing to her rescue, managing to free the young teacher, only to fall captive himself. And then poor brave Miss Grady riding all alone through the night to Bridgerton to alert his partner Mr. Smith - evidently the darling of the town, who had managed to ingratiate himself with every man, woman, child, and even dog of Bridgerton. Why, what a sight the poor thing was! Just look at that horrid scrape on her pretty little cheek! Amanda had been fussed over by the ladies, tended to by the doctor, and Mrs. Bridger herself had found a suitable frock to replace her ruined dress. It actually belonged to Betsy Johnson, the mayor's wife, who happened to be the same size as Amanda, but hadn't Ida been the one to suggest it? The young heroine had been fed and bathed and was finally left alone to sleep for an hour on crisp, clean sheets. She was now standing in front of her brand new schoolhouse, refreshed, scrubbed clean, wearing the borrowed dress, her hair combed and pinned into a becoming upswept coif, and holding a huge bouquet of wildflowers the children had presented to her one by one. The only hint of her previous ordeal was the small red scratch on her cheek. Somehow it made her look brave and winsome at the same time. Her one worry was about Kid – er, Thaddeus. But virtually everyone in town – even several of the children - kept reassuring her that those criminals were no match for the likes of Joshua Smith, who'd have his partner safe and sound before you knew it.
Ida tucked her hand in the crook of her husband's elbow and plunged through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea to allow their passage. She was prattling non-stop, filling him in on the details, as if he hadn't just heard them all. Bridger had no choice but to go along with her or appear foolish.
"We are all just praying that Joshua is able to find Thaddeus and rescue him from the brigands," Ida was saying.
Bridger snorted to think his wife was on a first-name basis with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, but when he tried to explain that the gang of highwaymen had said that Jones was really Kid Curry, she laughed uproariously and exclaimed, "Oh, my dear! That is just too rich! It sounds like those outlaws weren't very bright, were they? No wonder Thaddeus was able to rescue Amanda. Not that it wasn't brave of him, mind you. But hearing how dim they are gives me great encouragement. I am just certain that our Joshua will outsmart them. I do hope he and Thaddeus return to Bridgerton. Such nice young men. Did you hear that Joshua won the poker game? It was a record pot - twelve thousand dollars! And do you know what he did? He donated one thousand dollars right on the spot to pay off the school's mortgage! Wasn't that generous? Oh, darling, I wish you could have met him! But at least you were able to get to know Thaddeus. Isn't he just the sweetest and bravest boy? Amanda told us he stopped a runaway team of horses and protected her when the outlaws attacked by pretending to be her brother. Wasn't that just clever as can be, Dear? Oh, if they do come back, you should hire them to work for you. And Darling, you do know about the luncheon? At our house? Everyone who's anyone will be coming. You will change out of your traveling suit, won't you, before they all come over? I'm having it catered by Mrs. Fitzsimmons and her daughters. You know, from the café? You should have seem them when they heard about Thaddeus getting captured. Oh, how they wept and carried on. All three of them, even the mother! Seems they'd taken quite a shine to Thaddeus, well who wouldn't? Oh, there's Betsy. Yoo Hoo, Betsy! You know, she wanted to have the luncheon at her house, being the mayor's wife and all. But I quickly convinced her that our home is more appropriate. After all, you founded this town. Mayors will come and go, but for goodness sakes the town is named Bridgerton! And of course, our house is much bigger, definitely more suitable. Now do run along, dear, and get changed before everyone starts to descend upon us. I had Sally press your good suit. It's laid out on the bed."
She kissed his pudgy cheek and sailed off in another direction. The most prominent citizen of the town that bore his name drew in his breath and heaved out one long sigh, then meekly walked toward his house to follow his wife's instructions.
The celebration continued the whole day and well into the evening. The luncheon in Bridger's home seemed to include not just the prominent citizenry, but the entire population. And it lasted until suppertime, when the townspeople began to haul tables and chairs into the broad main street and the womenfolk heaped them with more food. The children played tag and ran relay races. Several of the men hung lanterns in the trees and the workers from the sawmill erected a makeshift dancefloor. Anyone with an instrument joined an impromptu band and soon the dancing began. All businesses in Bridgerton, including the bank, remained closed the entire day, much to Harold Bridger's chagrin.
"Relax, Harry," Wade counseled, handing him a drink. "It's not every day we welcome a celebrity to our little town. Hail the conquering heroine, and all that." He clinked Bridger's glass with his own, grinning.
The whole town was abuzz, the streets filled with music, singing, talking, laughing, dancing, and merriment. There was no way that anyone could have heard, echoing through the empty telegraph office, the sound of the keys clicking and clacking. A message was arriving, but there was no one there to record it…
