by Kit Morgan
Dorcas sighed in relief and opened it. “Yes, of course. Your knock startled me, that’s all.”
Norah nodded and came in, a glass of water in hand. “What kind of hostess am I if I don’t offer ye something cold to drink? I wasn’t sure what ye’d want, so let’s start with this.”
“Thank you.” Dorcas took the glass and had a healthy sip. “Thank you so much.”
“I can make ye lemonade. Seamus got some lemons in – he ordered them special.”
“Lemonade,” Dorcas said with a heartfelt sigh. “Yes, please.”
“Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Norah hurried out.
Dorcas sat on the bed and drank her water. She had to calm down. There was no way Vernon could find her – she’d left no notes behind, no correspondence of any kind, nothing to give him a clue of where she might’ve gone or that she’d become a mail-order bride. Adelia Pettigrew’s confidence was sound. For all anyone knew, she got the wedding jitters and left town to stay with a relative.
In fact, her first idea had been to run to Daphne for help – the “mad matchmaker” had just been a means to that end. But Mrs. Pettigrew, after hearing her situation, reasoned that going to Noelle to find Daphne wasn’t enough. She’d need the protection of a husband – and she just happened to have one in Noelle handy. What luck! Dorcas took the opportunity, wrote a quick note to the applicant, received train fare and grabbed a seat the night before her wedding to Vernon.
Regardless of any other difficulty, anything was better than marrying Vernon Fink. She hoped her parents would come to realize it too one day.
With another sigh Dorcas opened one of her bags and pulled out the first thing she saw: her Bible. “Looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.” She hugged it to her chest a moment, lay back on the bed and began to read from the Psalms.
Chapter Four
Elwood reached for another stack of books. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, Jack.”
“Think nothing of it,” Jack Peregrine told him, picking up another pile. He carried it to Elwood and set it next to the growing stacks. “You sure do have a lot of books.”
“They’re a longtime hobby of mine. And I am opening a bookshop.”
Jack laughed. “Good point. Hey, this one looks interesting.” He held up a book on carpentry.
“Oh, indeed it is. Carpentry fascinates me. I wish I was as talented at it as you are.”
“You can be talented at anything with practice,” Jack said as he leafed through the book. “All depends on how bad you want it.”
Elwood crossed the large room and reached for another pile. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving these here for a time.”
“Not at all. Now that your bride’s arrived, you’d best go fetch her and see about your wedding.”
Elwood pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “You’re right – not to mention prepare to apologize. I should have gone to Junction with Woody Burnside to pick her up.”
“Don’t worry,” Jack consoled. “She’ll understand. Especially when she finds out how busy you’ve been getting the place ready for her.”
“But it’s still not done.”
“She’ll be fine with that. Besides, summer’s coming on. We’ll have that back wall up in no time. The tarps should hold until then.”
“I hope so – Liam Fulton warned me about the summer storms around here.”
“Unfortunately true,” Jack said with a solemn nod. “They can be nasty and cold.” He slapped Elwood on the shoulder, then fetched another stack of books. For a man with a wooden leg, he moved with a grace Elwood didn’t expect.
“I’ll have to bring the future Mrs. Hunter around and introduce her to your wife,” Elwood said.
“Birdie would love it. She’ll want you both over for supper. Oh, and could you set that carpentry book aside for me? I’d like the honor of being your first customer.”
Elwood smiled. “Then there’s no sense taking it to the shop, is there?”
Jack laughed. “I suppose not. Leave it then and I’ll get your money. How much do you want for it?”
“Let’s not worry about that now.” Elwood slipped into his jacket and gave both sleeves a tug. “How do I look?”
“Nervous. Take a few deep breaths – you look ready to bust a gut.”
Elwood ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I am nervous. I never thought I’d be this nervous.”
“She is a perfect stranger,” Jack pointed out. “I was nervous when I met Birdie.”
“Thanks, Jack, that’s some comfort. Knowing all the married men in town got themselves mail-order brides and made things work is encouraging.”
Jack smiled and bit his lower lip. “Not every married man got a mail-order bride. Sheriff Draven, for example.”
“Draven?” Elwood said, his eyes lit up. “What happened?”
“Never mind about that now – you need to get going.” Jack gave him a friendly shove toward the door.
“Promise you’ll tell me later?”
“I promise. Now get.”
Elwood put on his hat. “Wish me luck.”
Jack laughed. “Stop it, will you? You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Elwood muttered under his breath. He left Peregrines’ Post & Freight, the family business Jack shared with his brother Max, who ran their Denver office, and his Grandpa Gus. Maybe in time, he’d have a family business too. He began his march to the Golden Nugget. “All right, you can do this,” he said to himself. “No need to be nervous. So what if she’s a perfect stranger and you haven’t got a clue what she looks like?”
Hmmm, was that why he was so nervous? He wished there’d been more time to send letters back and forth, but Mrs. Pettigrew the matchmaker insisted on train fare right away. Miss Minx had accepted his proposal and was anxious to wed. Who knew how long he’d have had to wait for another mail-order bride to come along? In the meantime, what if Mayor Hardt came to the conclusion he had enough investors in the mine and he missed out on the opportunity? He took Miss Minx and that was that. Great Scott, did she have all her teeth?
He reached the Golden Nugget, adjusted his hat, went inside and ran smack into Rev. Hammond. “Excuse me, Reverend. I didn’t see you there.”
The reverend stepped back. “Yes, I guess it’s hard to see someone standing right in front of you,” he teased. “I do hate it when that happens.”
Elwood sheepishly grinned. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“I’d say you were a lot of nervous. There’s no reason to be. You ready to get married?”
“You mean you want to marry us now?” Elwood squeaked.
“No time like the present,” the preacher said with a happy smile.
“But I haven’t even met the woman!”
“I have, and I must say, she’s lovely. You’ll be very pleased, Mr. Hunter.”
“Elwood – call me Elwood.” His eyes drifted to the staircase. Pretty? He did say “pretty,” didn’t he? No, “lovely” – that was the word.
“Very well, Elwood – you’ve been here long enough. How goes the bookshop?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. More books are coming in every day – I’m storing them at Peregrines’. Most of the shelving should go up in the next few days, then I can start moving them in.”
“Fine, fine,” Rev. Hammond said. “Let me know if I can help. In the meantime, let me introduce you to your bride.”
Elwood tugged at his shirt collar. “Probably a good idea.” He followed Rev. Hammond upstairs to the guest rooms. Seamus was still putting on a few finishing touches, though he’d also found time to help Elwood with building the bookshop and had given him some good suggestions besides. The Golden Nugget looked great, and he wondered if he should rent a room for the wedding night.
Egad, his wedding night! He hadn’t thought about it much. Truth was, he’d tried not to. How could he do that with a perfect stranger? He wanted to get t
o know his bride first – what were her likes, her dislikes? What did she eat for breakfast? Her thoughts on President Hayes’ election? Did she read? Did she mind if he snored? What about if he belched now and then? He had a delicate stomach and couldn’t help it sometimes. But he knew nothing about her, and she nothing about him.
Before he could wonder anything else, Rev. Hammond stopped in front of room 4 and knocked. The door opened … “Rev. Hammond?”
“Oh my,” Elwood sighed. The reverend hadn’t been exaggerating – she was lovely. She had a willowy build, with dark hair and green eyes, a heart-shaped face and a voice soft as silk.
“Hello again,” Rev. Hammond said. “I’ve brought you something.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
She looked past him. “Mr. Hunter?”
Elwood nodded, his eyes glued to hers. “At your service, milady.” He wanted to smack himself. Milady – where did that come from? Well, he had been reading the Arthurian legends of late. But this woman was surely no Guinevere – by all appearances, she was pure as the first-fallen snow.
“May we come in?” Rev. Hammond asked.
“Certainly.” She stepped aside.
Elwood followed the reverend inside and noticed a couple of satchels on the bed. One looked empty, the other still full. The thought of getting a room for a night began to look more practical – in fact, maybe they should stay at the hotel until the back wall was finished. June nights were still cold up here in the mountains. Though he could keep her warm …
She was studying him. “Mr. Hunter.”
“Yes, that’s me,” he whispered, then shook himself and cleared his throat. “Elwood Hunter at your service,” he added, stronger this time. He took her hand, bent at the waist and kissed it. Oh for Heaven’s sake, what was he doing? That romantic literature had gone to his head.
She flushed pink. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“And you.” He stared at her, wanting to study every inch, but thought it would be rude. He had a sudden memory of the first time he met Gertrude Van Housen when they were children – she looked at everyone like they were a horse she might want to buy. Still did.
“Would you like to sit?” she asked.
Rev. Hammond pulled the chair away from the desk, sat and motioned to the bed with both hands. “Let’s discuss your wedding, shall we?”
Elwood nodded and sat at one end of the bed, with Miss Minx perching warily at the other. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, left up to me, I’d marry the two of you this evening. Unless you’d like to take a little time to get to know one another – then I’d be happy to chaperone, as would my wife. What say you?”
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Elwood quickly agreed. He turned to his future bride. “What do you think?”
She looked at him like a frightened doe. “Oh, um … yes. That would be fine.”
Elwood’s brow furrowed. She was frightened – he could see it in her eyes. But of what?
* * *
Dorcas kept looking at Elwood Hunter and nodding. What was she doing? She was putting this man in danger. Granted, Vernon might have shrugged off her disappearance, chalked it up to bad luck and found another skirt to chase. But how would she know? If she wrote her parents, they’d know where she was, tell Vernon, and …
“Is that all right?” Mr. Hunter asked.
“Yes, yes.” She blinked a few times. “Sorry – woolgathering.”
“I can see that,” he said with a warm smile and turned to Rev. Hammond. “I think it’s best if Miss Minx stays here at the hotel for a few days. Back of my shop isn’t quite done – I don’t want her to catch cold.”
That got her attention. “Why would I catch cold?”
He looked sheepish. “The back of the building doesn’t have a finished wall yet. Our living quarters are there, and …”
“I understand,” she cut in. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
His smile faded. “Of course I would think of you.”
Dorcas opened her mouth to speak, but was thankfully interrupted by Rev. Hammond. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s set a date. How long would you like to spend getting to know one another?” He looked at each of them, a smile on his face.
“Thank you, Reverend,” Dorcas said. “That’s most kind of you. What do you think, Mr. Hunter?”
“Call me Elwood, please. Now let’s see, today is Tuesday … how does next Tuesday sound?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Rev. Hammond turned to Dorcas. “You?”
“Yes, fine,” she nodded. “Mr. Hunter and I will have a week to court.” And I get a whole week to get up the nerve to tell him about Vernon. Hopefully Mr. H … Elwood will still want to get married after that.
Mr. Hunter raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Being in accord with one another is very important in a marriage,” Rev. Hammond said. “Everyone should take a few days to get to know one another, share a few meals, take some walks. And there’s no better way to get to know a person than by working alongside them – on a project.”
“Project?” Dorcas said. “What sort of project?”
“I’m glad you asked,” the reverend said with a happy smile. “My wife’s heading up one of several committees for the big Fourth of July celebration, and the railroad’s finally coming to Noelle around the end of the month. There’s a breakfast meeting tomorrow here at the Nugget to discuss both.” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “In fact, I’d best get going – I need to meet with Mayor Hardt and Mr. Hawkinson of the railroad about a few things. Why don’t the two of you go downstairs and, I don’t know, share a glass of milk?”
Mr. Hunter blushed – Dorcas had no idea why. “I think I need something stronger,” she said.
Mr. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Oh – I meant coffee,” she corrected.
“Yes, of course.” He jumped to his feet. “Anything you need. I know you’ve had a long journey. Would you rather rest?”
“No. There are … some things we need to discuss.” Oh heavens, did she just say that? Did she really want to tell him about Vernon right now? But what did it matter – she had to tell him at some point. Which reminded her … “Rev. Hammond, do you know a Daphne Doolittle?”
“Daphne? You mean Daphne Brooks?”
“Oh yes, I suppose that’s her name now. She’s a friend of mine.”
“Of course I know her – I married them. She and Mr. Brooks are in San Francisco.”
Dorcas’ heart sank. Daphne was gone? “Oh … I’d very much like to have her at my wedding. Do you know when they’ll be back?” If only she could speak to Daphne about her situation. Maybe she’d advise her not to say anything to Mr. Hunter. But if their situations were reversed, is that what she’d tell Daphne? Probably not.
“Well, they are due to head back any day. They wanted to be here for the celebration.”
“Thank Heaven,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping with relief.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Hunter said, concerned.
“Nothing.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you sure you don’t need to rest?” His voice was gentle, a soothing balm to her raw nerves.
“Thank you, no, I’ll be fine. I just need some coffee.”
“Then let’s go downstairs.” He motioned toward the door.
Dorcas stood and followed the men down into the bar. “Seamus, three coffees please,” Rev. Hammond said, then turned to them. “I could do with a cup as well – I’ll take it to my meeting.”
Dorcas had to smile at the reverend’s casual demeanor. He reminded her of a journalist she knew in Denver named Reese Wellington, who wrote the most fantastic stories. And speaking of stories … “Mr. Hunter, you own a bookshop?”
“Yes – I mentioned that in my letter, didn’t I?” He motioned to a table. “Sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Dorcas sat and willed herself to be calm. Otherwise
she’d wring her hands or twist her hair, both nervous habits. She didn’t want him to think anything was wrong, nor blurt out what was wrong. Surely the best course of action would be to keep silent for now, until she talked with Daphne. Daphne had always advised her wisely.
“I built it across the street from the future church, next to a bakery and sweet shop,” Mr. Hunter went on with a grin. “Too bad I couldn’t have put it next to the sheriff’s office. Wait until you meet Sheriff Draven – now there’s an interesting character for you.”
“Oh?” she said, shoving thoughts of Vernon aside.
“Yes indeed. He’s had quite the illustrious career, you know.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t.”
“Well, I’ll have to tell you all about it. But you did ask me about the bookshop, so I’ll start there. I have quite the library and personal collection. I’ve always thought of opening a shop, but I was always stuck working in my father’s shipping business back in Boston.”
She smiled shyly. He was boyishly handsome, tall and solidly built. He had the most mesmerizing blue eyes, and she liked the way his golden hair curled slightly at the ends. All in all, now that she took a moment to really study him, she liked what she saw. “Boston?”
“Born and raised. I did put that in my letter, didn’t I?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, I must be more tired than I thought.”
He nodded in sympathy. “Shipping wasn’t for me, so I … left town.” He shifted in his chair and looked at the back of the saloon, probably wondering where Seamus was with their coffee.
“How big is it?” she asked. “Your shop, I mean.”
“Well, the building is twenty feet wide and fifty deep – half of that is the shop proper. I spared no expense. The rest of my money … well, we’ll talk about that later. Do you like to read?”
What was that about his money? Oh well, he’d tell her soon enough. “Yes, I love books.”
“You do?” he said, eyes bright. “That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to show you my collection.”
“Are you planning on selling it off?”
