Grooms with Honor Series, Books 1-3

by Linda K. Hubalek

  "I stop at homesteads, offering to take photographs of their family, home, or whatever they want. If they agree, I record their names, location, and any information I can think of so I can mail the right photo back to them."

  Iris had opened the book to the first page, her eyes skimming the page as if she understood what it said.

  "I don't have the best handwriting. Can you read what I've written?"

  "Yes." She must have read his mind, because her chin lifted a tad. "Yes, I can read and write."

  "So you see what details I need to take."

  Fergus laid out two cabinet card photographs of the same family between them on the bed. "I offer the choice of a black and white version, or I can oil tint it for an extra fee."

  Iris' studied the details in both photographs.

  "What do you think? Which would you choose?"

  She looked up, hesitating to answer?

  "Please, I need a critique of my work, good or bad."

  "I'm not sure which one I like." Iris bit her lip, as if she wanted to say something but didn't feel comfortable doing so.

  Fergus picked up the oil-tinted photograph and held it out until she took it from him.

  "I thought I'd get more orders for the oil-tinted ones, but so far it's been mostly the black and white. And I don't know if it's because they want the cheaper price or my painting is bad. You have to use a tiny brush to put just a dot of color on a child's cheeks, and that's hard to do with my big clumsy fingers."

  Now she studied the photograph, turning the picture back and forth to catch the best light from the lantern hanging above them. Her nose slightly wrinkled up as she squinted her eyes.

  "I'm no good at painting, am I," Fergus was blunt because the painting did look "off" to him.

  "I can't say." Iris carefully laid the portrait back on the bed.

  "Do you think you could do better?" Iris met his eyes but bit her bottom lip instead of answering.

  Fergus thought a minute before continuing. He needed to say the right words to Iris.

  "I’ll still stop at homes on my way to Clear Creek and I could use an assistant. Someone to write down the details of the photos so I know which photo goes to which family when it’s ready to mail back to them. It takes time for me to write down a dog is sitting to the left of the photo, two horses and a buggy to the right, two boys and four girls, that sort of thing. Plus the family usually wants to visit, so sometimes I don't record my notes until I'm a mile down the road.

  "An assistant could write down all these details while I'm placing people, helping them arrange their organ—"

  "They bring their organ outside?"

  Fergus smiled, glad she was thinking of something else besides her misery.

  "So far this fall I've carried out three organs, a sewing machine, two tables—complete with china place settings—and more cradles than I can remember."

  Iris picked up the book and looked at his entries again, using her finger to scan the pages. She smiled reading his scribblings now. "Child on goat?"

  "Yep. I'll recognize that family photo once it's developed."

  "What color was the goat?"

  Oh, oh. "Uh, brown I think...or was that the dog. Why?" Dread filled Fergus' stomach, but it brought a slight smile on Iris' face.

  "Because you wrote down 'tint' at the end of the entry."

  Fergus wiped his hand over his face, trying to remember that homestead he'd visited a month ago. The goat and dog were about the same size. Surely, one was white and the other brown and it would show on the photograph.

  Apparently, he really did need an assistant, instead of just making up the position for Iris.

  Fergus cleared his throat.

  "So, if you didn't want to travel to your home, you could work for me as I travel south to Kansas. I’ll pay you a fair wage too. If you change your mind, I'll still buy you a ticket to go home."

  "Why?”

  Fergus wished he could magically wash the worry and fear off her face. He knew the "why" was a loaded question.

  Fergus shrugged his shoulders. "It's the right thing to do. I was at that spot at that moment to help you. I will not ask any favors from you—unless you can cook for us—and I will be a gentleman in every way. We will just be traveling and working companions, period."

  "Anything else?" She was biting her lip again.

  "I have the oil-tinting kit along. Could you try tinting a photo?"

  Her surprised face meant she was expecting him to ask for another kind of favor.

  "Uh, yes. I'd like to." She finally looked...less guarded. Maybe he'd show her all men weren't mean animals.

  Chapter 4

  "Stay inside, Iris. Please, don't even peek out the door."

  Fergus hated to drive the wagon into a town, but they needed supplies.

  He didn't think there was a way his wagon could be associated with a missing woman, but someone on the train could have seen it, and the big lettering on the side made it easy to remember.

  "Got our list written out? I'll stop at the general store after I send a telegram to my folks." Iris handed the piece of paper to him and he glanced down the list. Iris had pretty, flowing handwriting, so much easier to read than his.

  "How long should the ribbon be?"

  "Fergus..."

  "Yes, I'm buying the ribbon. You need to be able to tie your cloak to keep warm."

  "Please buy a yard then, either black or navy blue, if you have a choice."

  He handed the piece of paper back to Iris and she wrote it down.

  "The most important thing isn't on the list."

  "What?" Iris looked baffled.

  "The first thing you asked for when you woke up the first day."

  Iris blushed so pretty. He could get used to it.

  After glancing at him, she wrote down "chamber pot" and held out the paper to him again.

  He was going to add more items to the list but she didn't need to know about them yet.

  "Keep the door locked and don't answer if someone other than me knocks."

  "All right." But Iris didn't look all right to be in town. She looked terrified.

  "I won't be long," Fergus assured her as he opened the door. He waited until he heard her lock the door before stepping down the steps.

  He’d parked in the alley behind the general store, then walked around the block since the depot was across and down the street a ways. He realized he was calling attention to himself because he was walking too fast, so he slowed down his feet and tried to do the same to his heartbeat.

  Was the man who hurt Iris in town, maybe walking on this very sidewalk, or watching from the upstairs of the hotel?

  Fergus waited inside the telegraph office door because there was someone else at the agent's window. Better to listen than be seen if possible. Fergus walked up to the window after an older man departed the office.

  "I’d like to send a telegram, please."

  "I saw you go by in your photograph wagon. You been working north of town?”

  "Uh, why do you ask?" Fergus scrambled to think why he was asking. Because someone wanted his photograph taken or because his wagon was spotted near the river bridge?

  "A man was in here yesterday, looking for a woman. The woman got off the train at the wrong town before he realized it and he wondered if she had shown up here trying to make connections. Wondered if you might have seen a woman walking the tracks when you were driving around?"

  Why would she be walking the tracks if she got off at a town?

  "Sorry. I've been out in the country, not close to the tracks until coming into town today.

  "Who's looking and how do I contact him if I see the woman? Did he say her name?"

  Fergus tried to keep calm while asking the questions.

  The agent picked up a piece of paper, which was lying by the window. "Milton Morris, staying in the hotel across the street. The woman's name is Iris Kerns."

  “Can you describe him—and her—so I know who to be looki
ng for?”

  “Morris was middle age, not quite fifty, fancy clothing, leaned heavily on a cane. He said the woman was in her twenties with dark curly hair, wearing a dark blue wool cloak.”

  "I'll watch for them. Did he say how long he was staying in the area?"

  "No. I assume until he reunites with her."

  Fergus cleared his throat to steady his nerves. "I need to send a telegram to Angus Reagan, Clear Creek Kansas."

  The agent picked up his pencil ready to write down his message on a piece of paper.

  "Home twelve Fergus." Even with the delay caused by Iris, they should still be home by November twelfth.

  "That's it?"

  "That's all. What do I owe you?"

  *

  It was an odd combination of items spread out on the general store counter, but that's what they needed, besides lemon drops for his sweet tooth, and to hand out when he stopped at homesteads. He forgot to ask Iris if she had a favorite candy, not that she'd confess it, or anything important, like her last name to him.

  Ammunition, canned goods, ten pounds of potatoes, a five-pound slab of bacon, two dozen eggs, a pound of butter, a sack of lemon drops, a navy blue ribbon, a ready-made dress, and a white enamel chamber pot.

  "Oh, and two pounds of coffee beans please." Fergus racked his mind trying to think of any other item he needed, besides the one he'd put off asking about.

  The clerk, a woman in her fifties added it to his bill. "Anything else before I add up your total?" She probably asked because he'd reluctantly asked for the dress, and then finally the chamber pot.

  Even though he had mixed feelings about Iris and the truth behind her leaving the train, he still wanted to help her.

  "I also need a ladies' wedding band."

  Fergus was surprised at the woman's excited change in attitude. But it was probably excitement for the sale rather than supposed proposal to his fiancée.

  "I have a lovely assortment for you to choose from," she exclaimed as she pulled out a tiny velvet-covered board with ten wedding bands stuck halfway in velvet-lined holes.

  "What size does she wear?"

  Fergus stilled his fingers, about to pick up the thinnest band. He had no clue. Fergus was going for cheap.

  "She's petite." The only time he'd held her hand was pulling her from the river, and pulling off her wet clothes.

  "Tiny. Tiny hands." Fergus could feel red heat climbing up his neck, heading for his cheeks.

  "Well, the thinnest band is probably best then as it is fashioned for a delicate hand."

  The clerk pulled the ring from the board and handed it to Fergus to inspect.

  With this ring, I thee wed.

  Golly. He could hear his father’s voice as clear as if he was standing right in front of him, at the church altar.

  Fergus, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live together with her in the covenant of marriage?

  She'll only be my pretend wife and we'll be living together in very close quarters in an old sheepherder's wagon.

  Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?

  No, this ring was just a temporary protection for Iris.

  Now his father's words told him he was doing the right thing.

  Always protect, respect and honor women and children.

  Yes, I'll protect her from harm, until she runs away from me next.

  "Perfect. I'll take it."

  ***

  Three knocks, a pause, then two more startled Iris. She'd dozed off again, and after enjoying a night of the best dreamless sleep that she'd had in ages.

  "It's Cullen McKenna to see Seth Tully."

  Iris guessed Fergus used the names of his brothers in code to give her a sense of security, and a bit of humor to lessen her tension.

  He knocked the code again as she untangled herself from the quilt and moved to the door. She slipped the hook off the door and opened it wide enough to peek outside.

  "Open up so I can set this box inside, then you can pull it to the front of the wagon."

  Iris opened the door, keeping herself out of sight as he lifted the box onto the floor of the wagon. There was barely room on the floor to walk around it. He reached down to the ground and held up the chamber pot by the handle for her to grab.

  "Careful. Eggs packed inside. I’ll be back in a minute with the rest of the supplies."

  Fergus looked both directions before nodding to Iris and walking to the back entrance of the store.

  Iris set the chamber pot in the bed to keep the eggs safe for now. She wasn't sure where he stored eggs when he traveled.

  She carefully stepped back around the box to lock the door, and then turned to see what was in the box. Canned goods were stored in the bottom drawer so she could put those away. A sack of potatoes, a wrapped section of...Iris lifted it to her nose. Cured meat, probably bacon.

  A box of ammunition. Fergus strapped on a gun belt and holstered a revolver on his right hip before he left the wagon this morning.

  No ribbon? She'd actually been looking forward to looping a new ribbon on the neck of her cloak.

  Fergus was back knocking on the door before she had a chance to put the food away. She almost flipped the hook when the door's outside handle jerked once, then a second time more forcibly. The bottom of the door opened more than the top where the hook still held. Another hard pull could pop the little hook though.

  Iris stilled. Dread rapidly filled her chest. Her eyes darted around the room. There was no place to hide in the wagon's cramped quarters. She'd be exposed to whoever opened the door.

  What should she do? Call out so someone knew the contents were protected? Throw canned goods at the person when the door flung open?

  "Hey! Hey! Get away from my wagon!" Fergus' angry voice threatened the person on the other side of the door from Iris.

  "I was looking for the owner." Iris gasped before slapping her hand over her mouth. He found me!

  "I'm right here. You need your family's picture taken?" Fergus' voice was still strong, but not menacing.

  "No, I'm looking for a runaway. Thought I might check the wagon as it would be a place to hide. Especially since the door is locked on the inside."

  Iris froze, scared to even take a breath.

  "My wife always locks the door when I'm out."

  Wife? Iris was surprised Fergus could come up with the fib so readily.

  "But she didn't open the door when I knocked,” the person still standing at the door countered.

  "She’s in the family way, so she might be resting, unless she’s hanging her head over the chamber pot." Fergus voice rose as if tired and cranky.

  "So what's the youngster's age and name if the boy shows up?"

  "Boy? No, it's a woman, Iris Kerns, in her twenties."

  "A woman?” There was a pause before Fergus continued. “And the reason a woman is running away from you?"

  Iris squeezed her eyes tight, wondering if he would lie or tell the truth about her.

  "None of your business. Here's my card. Please contact me if you see her. There's a reward for her return."

  There was a pause in the conversation, as Fergus must have read the card showing Morris’ name and address.

  "So you a bounty hunter, a Pinkerton detective?"

  "Not your concern."

  "Then it's not my concern either, so again I ask you to leave my family and wagon alone."

  "All right, but if you by chance see Miss Kerns...I’m staying in the hotel in town a few more days.

  Iris slipped quietly to sit on the floor. Somehow, he knew she didn't die and was hiding somewhere. He'd never stop hunting for her because—

  She jerked away from the door when there were three knocks, a pause, and two more soft raps. "Unlock the door, Missy, and then you can crawl under the covers again."

  Iris flipped the hook and in two steps she was back in bed, pulling the quilt
over her head and the chamber pot of eggs.

  The door slowly creaked open and a box was set on the floor and pushed forward. After a few seconds a second box scraped forward on the aisle.

  "After I shut the door, please lock it again. We're leaving now, but I need to stop at the livery for a bag of oats for the horse. Then we'll travel out of town a few miles before I stop again."

  Iris barely did as he asked before the horse lurched the wagon on its way.

  *

  It was about an hour before the wagon slowed to a stop. Iris dreaded the confrontation they were about to have, but Iris didn't fear Fergus, more the look in his eyes when he found out about her past.

  Three taps, a pause and two more. Even though they were alone, Fergus still let her know it was he knocking at his own wagon door.

  "Are you all right?" was the first thing Fergus asked when she unlocked the door.

  Iris was standing on the top step and Fergus was on the ground, making them eye level to each other. He placed his hand on her shoulder to make her look at him.

  She couldn't meet his eyes. "Why didn't you turn me over to him? All I've caused you in trouble and money."

  "I could tell he was trouble. I wouldn't have given him his dog back, let alone a human being. Let’s talk inside where’s it’s warmer for you."

  The interior of the wagon shrunk with Fergus inside the wagon with her.

  "Iris, please let me know what's going on so I can help you.

  “Who was the man? When I was at the depot, the agent said a Mr. Morris was looking for an Iris Kerns. Is that your name?”

  She nodded and braced herself for the next question.

  “Are you two related and why were you with him?”

  Iris rubbed her sore temple thinking how he had treated her. “No. We’re not related and he didn’t ‘treat’ me as family.”

  Could I trust Fergus to help me, or will he hand me over to that horrible man?

  Iris cringed thinking of Morris. ”He won’t give up if he knows I’m alive," she whispered.

  “Why does he want to find you? Please tell me. I will not judge you because of your past," Fergus emphatically explained.

  "Not even if you knew I was a mulatto?" She waited for Fergus' eyes to widen in distaste, but he continued to remain calm.