![]() Herbert Beecham had wanted me as his wife, at least until he found me unbuttoning the very top of my blouse beneath my neck one day outside of church. Once I stepped out, my life, I knew, would alter dramatically. My future was beyond the wooden door of the stage. My palms dampened my white gloves and breathing was even more difficult within the confines of my tight corset. ![]() My heart thumped so hard I couldn't imagine it not being noticeable to all, either by beating its way out of my chest or by the sound of its frantic beats. This was the end of the line, where my future husband would be waiting for me. The proposition of being married to a stranger held mystery and allure the entire stagecoach ride-three days of rattling and rolling across the open prairie-just until the driver called the horses to a halt in front of the general store in Liberty, Montana. ![]()
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