Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride)

by Mary L. Briggs

  Addie shook her head, glad for the low lighting, else he would see the heat blooming on her cheeks. “No. . .I. . .”

  “Well sometimes there’s just no need for conversation, is there?”

  Addie gasped as his mouth touched hers in a brief kiss. He pulled her closer and put his lips on her forehead. The butterflies in her stomach turned to a swarm of bees, writhing faster with every second. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back, away from him.

  His eyes widened as they met hers. “I’m. . .I’m sorry, Miss Fleming.” He took another slight step away and offered a slight bow. “I shouldn’t have taken such liberties. It’s just. . .” he glanced up. “The sky and air out here on the sea gets the best of me. And you here beside me, so beautiful and sweet. Please forgive me.”

  He seemed so earnest, so sincere. And it had been innocent, perhaps – although such behavior shocked her, not only with its impulsiveness, but with its contrast with her own inexperience. She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his pleading stare. “It’s fine. Really. Per. . .Perhaps we should have another dance?”

  He gave a slight nod and charmed her again with his smile. “An excellent idea.”

  He offered his arm and she took it at once, glad to be leaving the deserted deck and heading back inside.

  ***

  “Where were you?” Rose demanded, her cheeks hot with anger. “Michael and I looked everywhere for you. We were about to report you missing to the captain. I. . I was so worried, Addie!”

  Of course Rose would have wondered where she was. She shouldn’t have been gone so long. What had she been thinking? “I am so sorry. I. . .I just didn’t think. I never meant to cause you concern.”

  Slightly out of breath, guilt pulsed through her. She had been gone longer than she intended. After the second dance she had accepted another cup of punch. Spilling a bit of it on her dress, Adam had offered his handkerchief to clean the spot. And now she squeezed the fabric treasure tight in her hand. Her one memento of tonight.

  “Well, I’ll say! Don’t you ever do that again, Addie. When people disappear from a ship, it usually means one thing. And you’ve been so. . .so. . .upset lately, and–”

  Addie reached for her friend’s hand. “No Rose, please don’t ever think that. I know I’ve seemed despondent lately, but really I’m just contemplating my future. I promise, I’ll never disappear again.” A promise easy to keep with only a few days until they reached Galveston.

  Rose appeared to calm a bit. She smiled and sat on the bunk next to Addie. “So tell me where you were.”

  Chapter 7

  The massive door swung open and Mark stared into the young girl’s watery brown eyes. “What’s wrong, Penny?”

  Her voice trembled as she spoke. “A wagon, sir. It turned over on Mr. Fleming out by the barn.”

  Mark studied the face of Samson Fleming’s young maid, Penny Larson. “How bad is it?”

  She shook her head and motioned for him to come inside the long hallway. “I reckon both his legs are broke. Lizzie, Birdie, and Shirley are up there with him,” she said, wadding and twisting her linen handkerchief as she stared up the massive stairway. “The boys got him in on a blanket out there in the barn. They managed to splint up his legs some, but he was hollerin’ the whole way up there. I don’t reckon you ought to go up,” she added, turning her face back to him.

  He shook his head. “No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I take it the men I saw leaving were going for the doctor?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. The doc and your sister-in-law, Miss Missy. Mr. Fleming insisted they get her, too. And his lawyer. Reckon he thinks he‘s gonna die?”

  “Let’s wait and see what the doctor says about that, Penny.” Mark stared up to the landing above. He wasn’t surprised that Fleming wanted Jared’s wife. She wasn’t a doctor, but she had a lot of experience with surgery after working with her grandfather, a Civil War physician, for several years. “I’m sure Missy will be glad to come, too.” He automatically ran his hand across his left arm, finding the exact spot of the break she had repaired almost ten years ago. She’d done a perfect job, too. Not once had he had any trouble from the severe injury.

  A loud moan and then a shout of pain sounded from the upstairs.

  “Oh dear,” Penny said, her lips quivering as she hugged her arms to herself.

  Mark‘s heart went out to her. She was no more than thirteen years old. She ought to be at home with her mother, not working full time for Samson Fleming. But this time last year her father had been trampled to death by his own cattle. The accident had made it necessary for Penny and her sisters to find work in the community. And today‘s event would only refresh those painful memories for her.

  He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go on out to the kitchen and make yourself some coffee? There’s nothing anyone can do until the doctor gets here. And don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit over here on this bench,” he indicated the carved oak bench he had fashioned himself at the request of Mr. Fleming. If anyone comes to the door, I’ll be sure and answer it.”

  She hesitated and glanced around the hallway. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. And I could do with a bit of coffee. Would you like a cup, sir?”

  Mark tried to swallow and realized how dry and dusty his mouth was. “What I would really like is a cup of cold water. Do you think you could manage that?”

  She seemed to regain some of her composure at the idea of a task. “I’m sorry, sir. You must be thirsty from the ride over. I’ll get it for you right away.”

  ***

  It seemed an eternity before the pounding of hooves neared the house. Mark had the door open at once as the buggy came to a halt. Missy, seated beside the ranch hand, jumped from the contraption without waiting to be helped. Mark was down the stairs in a moment and reached for her bag on the seat, handing it to her.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” She spoke in a quiet tone, her usual merry green eyes masked in a cloud of anxiety. “How bad is he?”

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t know. They already had him upstairs by the time I arrived. The housekeeper and a maid are with him.”

  She nodded and followed him inside.

  “Just up the staircase and on down the landing. His room is the one on the end,” he instructed her. “Would you like me to come up with you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I can handle things until the doctor gets here.”

  ***

  Mark settled himself on the hard bench again, his fingers nervously turning the brim of his hat round and round with his fingers. Dr. Stratton had finally arrived and was upstairs with Mr. Fleming. The physician was fairly new in town and most said he was a good doctor. If Fleming was hurt as bad as the staff thought, this case ought to prove the physician’s abilities one way or the other.

  A sound on the staircase attracted his attention and he looked up to see Missy descending to the living area. She now wore a white smock covering her dress and she had tied her golden hair back with a leather string.

  He stood as she reached the bottom of the staircase.

  She motioned toward him. “He wants to see you before the doctor does the surgery on his legs.”

  Mark swallowed hard. “He wants to see me?”

  She nodded. “He won’t let the doctor proceed until he’s talked to you and his lawyer. Mr. Fleming has sent someone to fetch him here, now. He says it’s important.” She glanced up the stairs, then back to him. Her eyes met his. “You’d better hurry.”

  ***

  The room was large and bright, the curtains pulled open, letting in maximum light as the doctor arranged his surgical instruments on the table next to the bed. The rancher’s Apache cook, Birdie, stood by the bedside, quietly dobbing the man‘s forehead with a wet cloth she continually dunked into a basin of water placed on a small table. A long black braid, silver intermingling with the dark hair, hung down her back. She glanced at Mark and he saw the tears in her black
eyes. She blinked hard, as if to hold them back as she turned back to her patient.

  The big man was propped against the massive carved headboard with numerous pillows, arranged to offer him a sort of comfort. His face was gray and contorted. He forced his lips into something resembling a smile, but his dark eyes belied his suffering. “Come. . .come over here, boy.” His voice was raspy and harsh.

  Mark swallowed hard and approached the bed. “Yes, sir.” What could the man have to say to him that was so important? They barely knew one another, other than their business arrangements. Surely it was more important to get the surgery started.

  The injured man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed before he spoke. “You know. . .you know about my daughter coming?

  Mark nodded. “Yes. The mantel you commissioned is for her room.”

  Fleming nodded, then winced. “I need. . . .I need someone to go meet her. Will you do it?”

  “Go. . .meet her, sir?”

  “Her ship. . . .lands at Galveston on the twenty-first. The ship. . .the . . .Agatha Marie. . .it. . .” he stopped and swallowed. “Please. You are. . . .someone I can trust to bring her. . .home,” he gasped.

  Mark stared at the man’s face, awash with exhaustion from the few words he had spoken. And now it was up to him to reassure the rancher. He fidgeted and cleared his throat. “Of course, sir. I’d be glad to do it for you.” He hoped those were the right words. Going to fetch the man’s daughter had been the last thing on his mind.

  Fleming nodded. “I’ll. . .pay. . .”

  Mark felt the heat rise to his face. He was a neighbor, not a hired hand to do his bidding. “No, sir. I don’t need to be paid to help you out.”

  Fleming opened his mouth to argue. The door of the room squeaked open. Mark turned to see Jed Ward, the most expensive attorney in Chance, enter the room. The lawyer’s face was pale as he stared at the big rancher. He glanced at Mark before he spoke.

  “Mr. Fleming. You want to see me, sir?”

  Fleming blinked hard. “Yes. . . .I need you to. . .”

  Dr. Stratton interrupted the conversation. “Mr. Fleming, you really need to rest and get ready for this operation. It could take hours, sir.”

  The rancher jerked his head around to get a full face view of the physician. He seemed to find energy even as he spoke. “I’ll do as I please about this. I told you no surgery until. . .until I’ve spoken with these two men.

  He turned his face back to Mark. “Now you wait downstairs while I finish up here with Ward. He’ll give you . . . .details. . .about. . .my girl.”

  Mark nodded. Fleming could keep up the bluster for a few moments, but there was no doubt he was starting to wear down. Pain would soon overtake his ability to be in charge of the situation. The lawyer would probably have to make the conversation short.

  Chapter 8

  At exactly nine o’clock Monday morning, Mark sat in front of Jed Ward’s massive desk. Sunlight streaming through the large front window cast shadows on the floor of the people busy hurrying by on the sidewalk outside. The lawyer, sorting through papers, was ignoring him.

  Clamping his jaw, Mark pretended to be patient. There were better things to do than sit in a stuffy office. How detailed could Fleming’s instructions be? Meet the girl at the railroad station and bring her home was about all it could amount to.

  Jed Ward carefully stacked the documents in his hands and put them to the side of the desk. He opened the drawer of the writing table and pulled out a packet. Handing it across the desk, he said, “These are your instructions.”

  Mark took the bundle and offered a puzzled expression to the lawyer. “I thought I was just meeting her at the train.” Surely the man hadn’t mapped out the conversation he was supposed to have with the girl.

  Jed shook his head. “He wants you to meet her when she gets off the ship. In Galveston.”

  “Galveston? But it would be easier for her to take a train to Houston, or even New Braunfels and I could meet her there.”

  Jed nodded. “I know. I tried to talk him into it. But he wants someone to meet her the minute she is off that boat.” He nodded toward the bundle in Mark’s hands. “He already had hotel reservations in Galveston. You’ll take his. The next morning, the two of you will take a train to Houston, then New Braunfels. From there, you’ll rent a buggy and bring her home.”

  Mark fidgeted. It was one thing, picking her up and driving her home. But spending the night in Galveston. . .“Shouldn’t he have some sort of chaperone for her? I mean. . .we will be alone in Galveston and. . . ”

  The lawyer’s eyebrows rose. “I suggested it. He said no. Said there was no need, he could trust you.”

  Mark felt the heat rise to his face. “Well of course he can trust me. It’s just what other people will say when they know about the situation. He has his daughter’s reputation to think about.” Not to mention his own. “I’ll get a room at one of the hotels down the road.”

  Jed shrugged. “Well, I suppose. And if you’ve changed your mind. . . “

  Mark shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’ve already promised to go get her.”

  Jed leaned forward in his chair. “If it makes any difference to you, the rooms are on different floors. And it’s just for the one night. She won’t even arrive until sometime after two o’clock. And that’s if the ship is on schedule. You’ll have dinner, retire, and then be up early to catch the train to Houston.”

  Mark sighed. “Why in the world is she landing in Galveston?”

  Jed reached for a folder on his desk. “According to the correspondence from England, the lawyer for her grandfather’s estate purchased the ticket. The ship sailed from Liverpool a little over two weeks ago. To the folks over there, they probably think Texas is Texas and it doesn‘t matter where you land. I figure they bought the first ticket on the first ship they could find. Apparently, they wanted rid of her as quickly as possible.”

  Mark stared. “I thought Fleming told me the grandfather’s place was going to some sort of cousin.”

  Jed nodded. “That’s right. And with the entailment laws, the cousin doesn’t owe her a thing. From what I know, he could send her away with nothing.” A grim cloud passed over his face. “And I think that’s just what he’s doing. The ticket is third class.”

  Mark started. Third class was the way most of the new immigrants came. He’d heard stories of the hardships endured on those trips. This young woman was raised on an estate, used to fine things. The story didn’t make any sense. “But Fleming‘s her father, why–”

  “He didn’t know about the ticket until he received the lawyer’s letter,” Jed interrupted. “By then it was too late. It never occurred to him she would be treated in such a way, until he‘d received the letter. I guess he expected them to be a little more decent than that. If he had known, she would be on her way to him in first class.”

  Mark leaned back in his chair. His thoughts of meeting a spoiled, rich girl were starting to change. He was going to escort a woman who had lost her grandfather, probably the one person she knew loved her. He was no more than buried, when she had been cast out from the only home she’d ever known.

  She might be a Texan, born and bred, but her heart would be in England, where she was raised. And the trip to America’s shore would not be leaving her with very fond memories.

  He would have to do his best to give her a pleasant welcome. Maybe it would help ease the uncertainty she would surely be experiencing.

  Chapter 9

  “You take care, now, Addie. We can stay until your father comes, if you want.”

  Addie gave her a sweet smile. “That won’t be necessary. You go on with Michael, now.” She could see him standing near the dock’s edge. He was having a conversation with another crewman from the ship, but his eyes were on the woman he loved.

  Rose nodded. “Alright, then. But you remember where I am if you ever need anything. Shepherd’s Point Lighthouse. You’ll be able to find me there. And I’ll be writing you soon.
”

  Addie dropped her bag and threw her arms around Rose. It was just like her to be so kind. Why had God let such a hard-hearted woman as herself find friendship with a sweet angel like Rose? “I’ll remember. Shepherd’s Point.”

  She watched as her only friend walked away. Rose had a man waiting that loved her, ready to marry her today, as well as a whole family back in Ireland that waited to hear from her.

  She turned her eyes away and searched the crowd. Surely the man that was such a poor excuse for her father was out there somewhere.

  She nervously shifted the bag to her other hand and stared into the moving throng of people. Was it possible her father was not coming to get her? She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach. If he never came, it didn’t matter. Her mother had survived without the man. So could she. Rose had said anyone could start a new life in America.

  She turned and looked back at her friend. She was going to miss her.

  “Miss Adeline Fleming?”

  She turned and stared into the face of the man speaking her name. He was probably a few years older than herself and taller by several inches, forcing her to tilt her head to meet his face. His blond hair was mussed and tousled, presumably from wearing the hat he now held in his hand. His brown trousers were clean, but wrinkled, the same state as the blue shirt and brown jacket he wore. Blue eyes, the color of the sky and ocean, were openly curious as they gazed into her own dark eyes.

  Her heart gave a slight flutter as their glances met. She ignored the nervous reaction and took the note he was offering to her. The writing was spidery and shaky, as if the note had been written by an unsteady hand.

  Unable to come to Galveston. Mr. Mark Murphy will meet the ship and escort you home. Papa.