by Kit Morgan
“Look,” he began haltingly. “I know you’re upset with me for yesterday, and I truly am sorry. Before this goes any further, I need your forgiveness.”
She gaped at him. What he said was true, but she wasn’t expecting him to ask so directly. “All right then, I forgive you.”
“Just like that? After everything I did?”
“Well, there’s no sense holding it against you, especially if you’re willing to let bygones be bygones. I’d rather we just forget about it and start fresh, just as you said.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Thank you.” He went silent again, staring into the hallway and the dining room beyond.
Say something, Daisy thought to herself. For Heaven’s sake, the man is trying to court you. “I shouldn’t have to say anything.”
“What was that?” he asked.
Daisy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, that … I apologize. I have a horrible habit of speaking my mind aloud.”
He looked at her and smiled. “That must cause more than its share of embarrassment.”
“You have no idea,” she said. “It’s gotten me into trouble more than once.”
“It would be handy for me come Christmastime – you’re bound to let slip what you got me.”
She mock-glared at him. “I would never give up such information.”
“Oh? Shall we put it to the test?”
“Test?”
“Yes, say you know something I don’t know. I’m sure it would be only a matter of time before you’d let it slip.”
She grinned at him. “That sounds like a challenge, Mr. Tindle –”
“Morgan.”
“All right then, Morgan. So what did you have in mind? I’ll have to have something for you to … not find out about.”
“I’ll leave that to you. Why don’t you ask Mrs. Adams? I’m sure she can help you come up with something.”
“I’ll do that,” Daisy said with a laugh. She had to admit, this was a much better conversation than yesterday at the café. She also discovered he had a dimple on his left cheek that she found quite adorable.
“Do you cook?”
“Wh … what?” Daisy had been so wrapped up in thinking about his dimple, she hadn’t heard him.
“Cook. Do you?”
“Of course I can cook.”
“Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Why does that sound like another challenge?”
He smiled. “Maybe it is. I suppose we’ll find out come Thanksgiving.”
“Is that an invitation?” she asked.
He fiddled with his hat and smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“I’ll warn you, I don’t back down from a challenge. I accept.”
His smile broadened. “Good. I can’t wait to see what sort of wonders you’re able to whip up in the kitchen.”
Even though their conversation was offbeat and she felt nervous, she realized she liked him a little. After yesterday, it was only natural she’d be a little gun-shy. Perhaps she’d be a mail-order bride after all.
* * *
Morgan sat on his end of the sofa, doing his best not to fidget. He was nervous, no doubt about it, and couldn’t stop fiddling with his hat. He wondered if she noticed. Good grief, he’d just invited her to Thanksgiving dinner – in fact, he’d just challenged her to cook it! What was wrong with him? What was his mother going to say?
He gulped. Actually, he was pretty sure his mother would jump for joy at the prospect, then try to have them married the same day! That is, if he wasn’t already married to Bernice Caulder instead … He shuddered at the thought. Thankfully, dinner with the Caulders had been postponed until tonight, on account of Mrs. Caulder having a headache the night before. But it was still looming.
A knock at the front door drew their attention. Winnie came down the hall, a tray in her hands. She hurried into the parlor and set it on a small table, then went to answer the door.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Adams. May we come in?”
Morgan stiffened, recognizing the man’s voice. Oh no…
Garrett Vander stepped inside, with Julian Smythe on his heels. They turned toward the parlor and their eyes immediately riveted on Daisy. “We were just … looking for Morgan,” Garrett said, his gaze still glued to her.
“We heard you were entertaining a guest,” Julian added.
Winnie looked from one man to the other, then at Daisy. “Oh really? Have you come to fetch Morgan, then?”
Julian jumped. “Oh, we don’t need him right away,” he said as his eyes sought Daisy’s again. “We don’t mind waiting.”
Winnie folded her arms across her chest. “Then perhaps you’d like to wait outside on the porch?”
Garrett and Julian both looked panicked. “What about in the parlor?” Garrett asked.
“I think Morgan might mind.”
“You don’t mind, do you Morgan?” Julian asked.
Morgan narrowed his eyes. He knew what the two of them were up to – Garrett had already made his intentions clear regarding Daisy, and he must’ve told Julian about Morgan’s earlier refusal. He wondered if they’d done something as childish as draw straws before they came over, to see who would vie for Daisy’s attention first. Well, they had another thing coming. “What is it you need me for?”
Garrett and Julian stared at each other. “Well … we wanted to know if you could … help us fix my pa’s wagon,” Julian said.
“Which one?” Morgan asked.
“The … the big one,” Julian replied, looking as if he was savoring every inch of Daisy.
A pang of jealousy struck, and Morgan gritted his teeth. “Your funeral wagon?”
“Funeral wagon?” Daisy asked.
Here was Morgan’s chance to get Julian out of the way. “Yes, Julian’s parents are the town undertakers. Morbid, I know.”
“Well, many people find it quite fascinating – at least in Louisiana they do.”
Hmmm, thought Morgan; that didn’t go where he wanted. “Can’t the two of you work on the wagon yourselves?”
“You’ve seen how big it is,” Garrett said. “We need a third man.”
“Why don’t you to go back to Julian’s place, and I’ll meet up with you there?” Morgan suggested. He had to get rid of them somehow.
Julian slowly nodded. Too slowly. “We could do that.”
Winnie, having read the situation, hurried to the door and quickly opened it. Morgan smiled at her in gratitude. “I’ll see you in about half an hour, then.”
Garrett and Julian backed out of the parlor and into the hall, never once taking their eyes off Daisy, who was blushing furiously. The men’s interest was all too obvious, and it grated on Morgan’s nerves. But why should it? He was primarily there to keep Bernice off his back. Was he looking at her that way? He decided he’d try it and see what she did.
Unfortunately, her attention was on his two friends. It was a good thing Garrett didn’t know she was going to be making Thanksgiving dinner – if there was one thing he loved, it was good food. He’d try to drag her to the preacher himself!
“It was nice meeting you, Miss …” Garrett began, then stopped.
“Evers. Daisy Evers,” she told him.
Oh great, thought Morgan, now they have her name! He almost had to shake himself. What did he care? Isn’t this what he’d wanted?
“We’ll see you in a half-hour then, Morgan,” Julian said as he took one last longing look at Daisy, then headed out the door.
Winnie shut it behind them and, hands on hips, came marching back into the parlor. “Morgan Tindle, what was that about?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said innocently.
“Those two were acting mighty peculiar.” Winnie crossed her arms. “Might I remind you that you’re courting Miss Evers here.” And you’d better make it good, was implied.
“What do you mean, exactly?” he asked.
She smiled at Daisy, then looked at him again. “You’ve got comp
etition.”
* * *
Competition? Whatever did she mean? Daisy glanced at Morgan and did a double-take. The man looked worried. She turned away to hide a smile. Oh, that’s what Winnie meant. The two men hadn’t shown up just to fetch Morgan. They’d come to see her.
Daisy’s smile broadened. At least there were other handsome young men in Independence who found her attractive. What could be done with that? “How do you know them?” she asked Morgan.
“We grew up together,” he told her, snapping out of his stupor. “I’ve known Garrett and Julian most of my life.”
“You’re best friends, then?”
“Most of the time,” he said dryly. “But let’s not talk about them. Let’s talk about … well …”
She smiled and looked at the hands in her lap. “Is it just me, or is one of us not making this easy on the other?”
He sighed. “I think it’s me.”
“What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts again? Because if you are, please tell me now. I…” She looked away. “I don’t want to get my hopes up again.”
“I understand.” Now he looked away – and when he looked back, she could see guilt in his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. You’d be better off with Garrett or Julian.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and shook his head again. “Miss Evers …”
“I thought we were on a first-name basis.”
“I … I have no right to call you by your first name, Miss Evers. I find myself in a very disagreeable situation that has nothing to do with you, and that I can’t presume on you to help me with. By doing so, I’d be lying to us both.”
She closed her eyes against an oncoming headache. Really, the man could be so confusing! “What are you talking about?”
He took a deep breath, as if to brace himself. “Her name is Bernice Caulder.”
“Who?”
“Bernice Caulder. She’s a girl – very much a girl, not a woman and certainly not a lady. But my Aunt Eunice – whom you’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting – is trying to marry me off to her. Meanwhile, my mother wants me to marry you.”
“And who do you want to marry?”
He slumped back on the sofa. “At this point, Miss Evers, I don’t know. If anyone had asked me two days ago, I’d have said I’d prefer to stay single. But now … I’m not sure.”
Daisy, not being one to hold back, laughed. “So sorry,” she said between chuckles. “But the look on your face was so helpless.” And he was; she could see it in his eyes. She could also see that he was being honest with her, and she appreciated it.
“I apologize, Miss Evers. I feel like such a cad.”
“Mr. Tindle, am I to understand that you came here under the pretense of courting me so that you could avoid having to court this Miss Caulder?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, staring at his shoes.
Daisy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. At least he was being truthful. “Why don’t you just tell your aunt to leave you alone? It’s your life, not hers. Shouldn’t you be allowed to choose your own bride?”
“Exactly,” he said. “But then, I kept telling my mother that – and she brought you all the way across the country regardless, without even telling me. So now we’re both stuck in the middle of this mess.” He stood up and began to pace. “Now I feel like I have to fix everything – you included.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He shook his head and waved a hand in the air. “I’m sorry – terrible choice of words on my part. What I meant is, I feel responsible for taking care of you now.”
She sat up and smiled. “Dig a little more and you’ll fall into the hole you’re making.”
“Miss Evers, I’m not only in the hole, I’m pretty sure it’s my grave.”
She laughed at that. “So I see. Perhaps I should call your friend Julian, the undertaker?”
He returned her smile and stopped pacing. “Thank you for being so good-humored about this.”
“Mr. Tindle, one does not grow up in an orphanage and not develop a sense of humor. It’s necessary to survive.”
“I know you’re a survivor,” he told her softly. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen some things, haven’t you?”
Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed to keep her composure as memories came back – her father, the war, Reconstruction … “You have no idea, Mr. Tindle.”
A silence hung between them for a moment before he spoke again. “Can you forgive me, Miss Evers?”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. It wasn’t a very ladylike posture to assume, but she didn’t care. “Yes, Mr. Tindle, I forgive you. But what are you going to do?”
“Well, my aunt is bent on speaking with this girl’s parents tonight, at my home, during dinner. If she has her way, and my parents agree, my life will become … well, you get the idea.”
“You don’t have to go through with it.”
“I know that, and I don’t intend to. But that will mean they’re all going to make my life miserable for as long as they can - especially my Aunt Eunice.”
“Who’s quite capable of that,” she added as realization dawned. “So you were hoping that if they thought we were courting, your aunt would give up on marrying you off to Miss Caulder and you could live in peace, at least until your aunt went back to Portland, is that it?”
He nodded. “That about sums it up. But I couldn’t do that to you; it wouldn’t be right.”
“No, it wouldn’t be,” she said as she stood, “if you hadn’t told me what you were doing. But on the other hand, if I volunteered to help you …”
He stared at her, not knowing what to say. Finally he managed, “You mean you’d do that for me? You’d pretend that we were courting?”
“Tell me, Mr. Tindle, do your parents need any extra help at the mercantile?”
“Er… well… I assume we could use the help now and then.”
“Well, I’ll need a job if I’m going to stay in town. I’ve heard about a couple of possibilities, but they’re not guaranteed. Put me to work in the mercantile and I’ll pretend to be your future bride.”
He paced back a forth a few times, then stopped in front of her. “Rather ironic, isn’t it?”
“What is?” she asked, feeling pretty proud of her offer.
“Well, you already are my future bride –”
“No, Mr. Tindle,” she interrupted, “I’m not.”
Seven
“You’re … you’re not?” Morgan asked with a nervous chuckle.
“No, Mr. Tindle, I’m not,” she told him stoically. “Or I should say, not anymore. I’m going to need work, and I see this as a business arrangement.”
“Isn’t being a mail-order bride a business arrangement?”
“Only if both parties agree to it,” she told him, one eyebrow raised.
“Touché, Miss Evers.”
“Daisy. We’re courting, remember?” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Very well,” he said. “We are now officially courting … in the non-literal sense, of course.”
“Until your aunt leaves. Then we’re done and I have my job, agreed?”
He held out a hand. She stared at it a moment, then took and gave it a healthy shake. “Good,” he said. “Now that that’s settled, I’d better go help Garrett and Julian and tell them my good fortune.”
“Will they be disappointed when they find out we didn’t suit?” she asked teasingly.
“On the contrary – I’d say they’ll both be very happy when they find out we decided to call the whole thing off. In fact, you might want to brace yourself – I don’t know about Julian, but Garrett will come after you hard and fast.”
“Well, I’m glad to know there are a few eligible bachelors in town, seeing as you don’t wish to be among them.”
He smiled and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy on him. But then, no one had made it easy o
n her, himself included. “Until my aunt leaves, Miss Evers. After that you may do as you wish, including marrying whomever you wish.” With that, he put on his hat, turned and left.
He stepped onto the porch and let out the breath that he’d been holding. What in Heaven’s name had just happened? Had he truly just agreed to one of the most ludicrous ideas he’d ever heard? Well … it certainly appeared that way.
He stepped off the porch and headed down the street, half-expecting Mrs. Adams to come running after him. As she didn’t, she must not have overheard their plan – and thank goodness for that! The last thing he needed was for Pastor Adams and his wife to start badgering him about his poor judgment. Granted, it wasn’t his idea; it was Daisy’s … but he’d had his hand in it the moment he agreed.
Which, of course, prompted him to ask the obvious question: how long did Aunt Eunice plan on staying? Hopefully he’d just have to play his part for a week, two at the most, then they’d be done with it. Of course, he did tell Daisy he’d hire her on at the mercantile when all was said and done. What would his parents think when he told them he and Daisy had decided not to marry after all? Would she be able to keep her job, or be asked to leave?
He’d have to make sure his parents understood they were giving her a job based on her qualifications, not any personal affiliation. He had to admit that the girl was eminently qualified – in addition to being nice, she was very smart, as was evident by her talking him into this in the first place …
Morgan suddenly stopped. Why was he thinking she was the one who was smart and conniving? He was the one who’d gone to Daisy, planning on using her to get what he wanted – or more accurately, to avoid what he didn’t want, namely a betrothal to Bernice Caulder. Daisy had created her deal in order to survive, on her own, because he didn’t want to marry her.
“Always in trouble, aren’t you, Morgan?” he muttered to himself as he headed for the Smythes’ to help with the wagon. “Always think you’re so clever, do you? Well, I think you’ve just been outdone.” He stopped again. “Outdone by a girl, and a stranger no less. Ha!” he said aloud.
Several passersby gave him a funny look, but he didn’t care. Daisy had come up with the better solution, a more honest one. A far cry from what he’d planned to do.
