Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45)

by Kristin Holt

  His Loose Cannon was right. She’d done the job he’d needed her to do. Even though she’d gone about it in a very different way than he’d imagined.

  That didn’t make her wrong and him right. The realization seeped in, subtly shifting everything he believed about business and women… and his plans to operate the business as always, he and Adam operating the company and their wives doing wifely things.

  “I heard you tell the workers that Big Ezra was the highest yielding mine.”

  “Yes.”

  “If any mine is worthy of your money, your time, energy, and the risk it all involves, Mr. Cannon, Big Ezra is it.”

  He wanted to kiss her, to sweep her into his arms and finish this conversation later. Much later.

  But she deserved to know all of it. This woman, his wife, had somehow breached yet another barrier he hadn’t known he’d erected.

  She’d had perhaps two years of schooling. How had she gained so much wisdom, comprehension beyond everything he’d learned at University? She’d learned a great deal in the factories of Massachusetts.

  And Adam had somehow known, intuitively, precisely what Cannon Mining, and they two as men, needed.

  He’d never again make the mistake of assuming Lessie was uneducated.

  “You are right, my dear.” He leaned in for a kiss, wondering if she’d allow it.

  She seemed to hesitate, but did accept his kiss, even returned it. But too soon, she eased away, both little hands on his shoulders. She searched his gaze for the space of two or three heartbeats.

  Who knew eye contact could be such an intimate experience?

  For in her mahogany-dark brown eyes, he glimpsed uncertainty, hope, and trust. He wanted to erase any doubts this woman had. Replace uncertainty with confidence. Give her everything she’d never had, including a say in how things were run.

  After all, she bore the Cannon name.

  “Grandfather would have liked you.”

  She tipped her head just a little off center. “Only liked me? Better than not liking me, I suppose.”

  Richard couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “Grandfather would have loved you. And I think he’d have listened to every single idea you offered.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “What about you? Your grandfather isn’t here, doesn’t make the decisions any longer. This is up to you, Richard, and I want to know what you intend to do.”

  “First, we’re going shopping.”

  “For a building contractor?”

  “First things first. You need a new wardrobe.”

  Lessie’s temper erupted and he caught her around the middle, kissed her hard. “The camp will see snow by next week, they always do by late October. If you intend to travel back there with me, you need warm clothing. Better boots. A cloak and coat and warm woolen stockings.”

  “I have three new woolen petticoats. One made of flannel.”

  “They’re soiled. We’ll drop them at the laundry on our way out town, but you do require many more if we’ll be in Big Ezra for long.”

  “All right,” she said. “We shop. And then we’ll leave?”

  “The moment you’re properly outfitted, we leave for Big Ezra.”

  She squealed with delight. “Thank you.”

  What kind of a woman was far less excited about a day of shopping for new clothing and new shoes than returning to the wilds of a mining camp? Only his bride— one very special woman.

  “I hope I’m wise enough to listen to your counsel, Lessie, every day of our lives. Remind me if I forget, won’t you?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I believe, wholeheartedly, that you’re right. We will start a pilot program with Big Ezra and see if it helps. I suspect we’ll bring the same kind of changes to the other sites.”

  “You forgot the most immediate reward.” Her smile lit her eyes.

  “You’re happy with me?”

  She chuckled, shook her head. “I believe we might see the destruction of company property and the so-called accidents cease.”

  “I do hope you’re right.”

  Lessie waited in the buggy while Richard delivered the bundle of soiled clothing to the Chinese Laundry.

  He climbed back into the vehicle, his brows tipped together. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you’d bring clean things out with you.”

  “Oh, they’re ready.” He flicked the reins and urged the team into a trot. “But I don’t want to take the time to return the clean clothes home. Can’t leave them in the buggy while we shop, either.”

  Everything she’d seen of Ogden City made it seem the safest place.

  “The railroad brings tramps through town, and more clean clothes are stolen off clotheslines than you’d imagine. Orchards are picked clean. If we have time after shopping, we’ll come back and collect the clean and pressed clothes.”

  “I see.”

  He pulled up in front of the post office. “Want to come in with me?”

  “I’m fine here.”

  “I’ll be back in two shakes.” He leapt from the buggy and had returned before she could admire the gowns on two well-dressed women who’d paused to visit on the sidewalk.

  “You’re a popular lady.” He handed her a thick stack of letters that must’ve collected while they were away at Big Ezra. “I see you’ve received several letters from Massachusetts.”

  “Anything from Josie?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t take the time to look through all of it.” Richard drove toward the next stop on their list, Deseret Telegraph.

  Lessie flipped through the letters. Several envelopes containing business correspondence for Cannon Mining. Letters addressed to Mrs. Lessie Anne Hadley Cannon in care of Cannon Mining. From Alice, Lottie and Leora, Beth and India, Joanna and Judith…

  Worry seemed to increase with every envelope, each addressed in familiar handwriting.

  She searched through the stack twice. Perhaps a note from Josie had been lost between the folds of newspapers. Her husband subscribed to many city papers in the region of his mines.

  Richard’s hand settled over her forearm. A steadying, gentle touch. “Nothing?”

  “Why hasn’t she written?” Her imagination conjured all sorts of possibilities… none of them good. “Their train has arrived in New Mexico hasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Should have, by now.”

  “And she could have posted a letter anywhere along the way, couldn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  She knew her sister. Her lonely twin would have suffered homesickness far worse than she. Why hadn’t Josie written, at least to let Lessie know she was all right?

  Richard halted the team, set the brake, and turned to her. “I’ll send a wire to Adam, ask him to reply specifically about Josie. I’ll let him know we’re going to Big Ezra and to send a message there.”

  She knew he’d stopped at Deseret Telegraph intentionally to wire Big Ezra and advise them of their pending trip. They intended to leave tomorrow morning at first light, allowing ample time for their errands and shopping. He wanted all employees present for his announcement, so evening shift would be canceled— with pay.

  Until there hadn’t been a letter from Josie, she’d felt urgency to return to Big Ezra, to act before the unhappy men there could do anything further to cause damage. If she could distract herself long enough, she might even try to read and reply to several of the letters she’d received. Her friends would no doubt want to know if she and Josie were well. She would try and ease their worries, at least where she was concerned.

  But not Josie. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t answer the simplest of questions about her sister’s wellbeing.

  Unfortunately, Lessie was so accustomed to being part of a pair.

  “She should have written by now.” Lessie squeezed her husband’s hand. “Please ask. I can’t help but worry.”

  “I know.” He jumped down, came around to offer a hand. �
�Would you like to come in? Write the wire yourself?”

  “Thank you.” So very kind of him to offer. But she knew he’d do it right, well, and she didn’t need to watch over his shoulder. “I trust you.”

  She squeezed his hand, then released him. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay here and collect myself.”

  “No problem, my dear.”

  Mere minutes passed before Richard returned to the buggy. “When we’re done shopping, we’ll come back here and check for a reply. I let them know we wouldn’t be at home, so to not deliver a response until we return.”

  “Thank you. That’s most thoughtful.” And it was. Richard continued to surprise her with his gallant determination to see her content and happy.

  She’d been blessed beyond measure when she’d drawn the short straw and won Richard Cannon for her husband.

  She knew he trusted his cousin Adam implicitly… but what if Adam wasn’t all he seemed to be? What if Adam was the reason Josie hadn’t written or wired?

  Dread crowded out her worries, making the anxiety ever so much worse.

  What would she do if Adam had taken Josie away, and hurt her in unspeakable ways?

  Richard clasped her hand in his, twining their fingers together. “I promise you, Mrs. Cannon, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your sister is all right. I’d promise you everything will be fine, if that were in my power to give. You know that, don’t you?”

  Lessie nodded, offering a tremulous smile.

  The sincerity, the affection and warmth in his expression, all for her, eased her pain like nothing else could. She loved him for his generosity and kindness, his loyalty, and willingness to pursue her idea to help the employees in Big Ezra.

  She loved his patience in waiting for her to be ready for marital intimacies.

  And oh, how she loved the tenderness he’d shown her in their marriage bed.

  She loved too many things about him, too many parts of his personality and suspected she was falling in love with Richard Cannon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lessie found herself enjoying her first real exposure to a large department store, though her mind was constantly on the telegraph office and her desire to return. Perhaps Adam had already responded to Richard’s wire. If so, she wouldn’t need to worry a moment longer.

  Z.C.M.I. stood for Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institution, and their Ogden Branch on Washington Avenue was a fine sight, indeed. Filled with all sorts of beautiful things for men, women, and children, and embellish every room in the home.

  Just when Lessie figured she couldn’t have use of anything else, Richard returned, carrying yet one more thing for her to try on, consider, or to have the young female clerk add to the ticket.

  If Lessie enjoyed the newfound experience of shopping, Richard evidently enjoyed it doubly. Joy lit his face like Christmas morning. He took such satisfaction in dressing her from the skin outward, she found she couldn’t disappoint him by refusing his gifts.

  She did say no to a ridiculously expensive fur wrap. She didn’t need it. He’d already selected a short black velvet cape, two heavier and longer woolen cloaks and a coat.

  “Your husband is obviously a man in love.” The clerk, a young red-headed woman named Claudia, fluffed the skirt on a fancier dress than Lessie imagined she’d ever need.

  Her heart stuttered. How could she explain their unconventional beginning? The fact that Richard wasn’t in love with her… not really. He simply found pleasure in providing for her needs.

  But here Richard came, back from one of his hunting forays into the other departments within the store, bearing something small this time. No coat or shoes or scarves.

  Perhaps hair combs?

  The smile on his handsome face widened and grew even more sincere as he took in the too-fancy gown. “You’re beautiful.” His whisper, tinged with awe, bore enough honesty she didn’t think to argue with him.

  “Thank you. I don’t need this dress. It’s too fancy.”

  “We’ll take it.” He told Claudia, who clapped her hands with glee.

  Richard handed her his latest find.

  A box, done up in pretty pastel shades of pink and yellow and lavender, hinting at flower gardens and watercolor paintings. She lifted the lid to see what resided within.

  Writing paper. Pretty stationery, obviously for a woman’s desk.

  Her eyes filled with tears, though she fought to suppress them.

  “Oh, and these.” He withdrew a hand from behind his back. Two lovely, gold-cased fountain pens. “So you might write your letters.”

  Her heart filled to the brim, threatened to overflow.

  The sight of two feminine, expensive pens on the palm of his hand, and everything the gesture said about the man, this husband she’d been so blessed to have married, touched her with the gentle weight of a bird alighting on the edge of a fountain.

  I love him.

  I love this man who thinks more of my comfort than his own.

  She really shouldn’t look up, for fear she’d cry and spill tears on this ridiculously expensive gown. What good would this dress be with tear stains?

  No woman as happy as she should cry.

  This amazing man with paper and pens to spare at home wanted her to have feminine, pretty things of her own.

  How could she resist falling in love with him?

  Awe added to the amazement, spilling over with more gratitude and joy than one heart could hold.

  I love this man, my husband.

  Though shaking with nervousness, Lessie stood beside her husband, listening to him address the people of Big Ezra. They stood on a wagon bed along with the site foreman, Maurice Gibbons, where they could see and be seen, and more importantly, their voices carry.

  The meeting had begun with a few words by the foreman, mostly a call to order and a brief introduction.

  If only Josie or Adam had responded to the telegrams Richard and sent before they left Ogden City, she might be able to keep her thoughts on this occasion. But she couldn’t stop worrying.

  The chill October wind whipped beneath the short black velvet cape she wore. Just an hour earlier, it had been to warm to consider wearing heavier clothing, but as the sun slipped beyond the mountain in the canyon, she wished for her coat. The dark red-and-black plaid of her wool skirt and bonnet helped keep some of her body heat in, as did her new woolen stockings and stiff new boots.

  Still, she couldn’t help but feel conspicuous. The women of the camp wore such simple, heavily-worn clothing that barely met their needs. And here she stood where all could see, sporting costly new attire.

  Almost like she’d worn a garish bright red satin gown to a funeral. Everyone else— well, except Richard— had dressed appropriately for the occasion. And she stuck out like that gaudy crimson satin.

  Never had she felt more out of her element.

  She made eye contact with the woman she’d met at the company mercantile several days ago, witnessed the obvious distaste on her face.

  Never had she felt so different inside than out.

  Beneath the many layers of new, warm, and fancy clothing, she was still the underfed, helpless woman who’d had no control over her life, no way to get ahead, had no hope for a better future.

  Richard stood proud and tall, addressing his people with fervor like she imagined preachers often did. “We foresee a brighter future.” He enunciated clearly, projected so every man, woman, and child could hear him in the clearing. “A time when a row of neatly painted homes stands in the meadow. A time when wages are paid in cash, when the company store accepts scrip no more.”

  Lessie couldn’t contain her excitement. Listening to Richard share their plans, lay out their vision when competing businesses would be welcomed into Big Ezra and prices would normalize. The changes would bring such hope and optimism…

  A rumbling, murmuring… boos? Had someone booed Richard’s speech?

  She searched the crowd, finding most men and women listening
with courtesy, but here and there clusters of men whispered together, gestured with obvious anger.

  A loud thunk struck the wagon.

  Had someone thrown a rock?

  Richard raised both hands as if that would calm a crowd intent on violence.

  Lessie had seen a riot once, in the streets of Lawrence. Factory workers had been locked out, shut out, pay withheld. She never did understand all that had happened, but she’d witnessed the violence on her way home from work. She and the other girls had given that block a wide berth to avoid trouble.

  At her side, Mr. Gibbons drew his pistol. Late afternoon sunlight glinted off iron. He drew back the hammer and fired into the air. She’d seen the shot coming, but she flinched at the rapport.

  Somewhere in the audience more than one baby cried in distress. Their mothers shushed them.

  The gunfire had worked, though— Richard had their attention once more.

  Lessie found herself clinging to the back of her husband’s jacket. One fist knotted in the wool of his coat.

  Ever since they’d returned to Big Ezra, the atmosphere had seemed charged, dampened, as if an undercurrent of something lurked just beyond reach… something vile and sinister…

  And now it pricked at her awareness until the fine hairs at her nape stood on end and fear slipped down her spine.

  “My wife,” Richard stated, “understands working for wages.”

  Murmuring escalated but the shadows and sharply rising mountain at their back caused words to echo. Where were the voices coming from?

  Despite the good news Richard shared, they didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

  She stood on the wagon bed in her fancy ready-made clothing, finer than anything the miners and their wives had a distant hope of providing for themselves.

  Instead of seeing the normal, everyday clothing as within their own grasp because of the positive changes coming within Cannon Mining, they chose to see an impenetrable wall between the working class and owners.

  Dread circled like buzzards overhead. The scavengers threatened to land at any moment. Lessie’s anxiety mounted.

  She’d made a horrible mistake in allowing Richard to talk her into wearing her new clothes.