Rachel (Bride Brigade Book 5)

by Caroline Clemmons

  Laughter rippled across the sanctuary, and then he launched into his sermon. Zane could hear the preacher just fine. He figured most men were too preoccupied watching the ladies and daydreaming to take heed of the pastor’s fine sermon. Men sitting close enough to inhale the blended perfumes of eight women must be lightheaded.

  Zane reckoned he was as crazy as any of the other bachelors. Here he was trying to figure out how he could speak to Rachel. Obviously, there would be no chance to waylay her as she left the service. He’d have to call on her later today.

  When the women were leaving, she met his gaze and he smiled and nodded a greeting. Her full mouth turned up in an answering smile and her mesmerizing brown eyes sparkled. Hat in hand, he stood in front of the church as the women followed Lydia to her home. A sudden burst of optimism set him humming as he strode home.

  He reheated the stew from yesterday and ate without tasting the food. Two o’clock would be a suitable time to call on her, but he couldn’t pace until then. In his parlor, he tried reading without success. Stretching out on the couch, he hoped the clock’s chimes would wake him in case he fell asleep.

  When he woke, he stared at the clock. Four! He donned his vest and jacket and grabbed his hat from the hall tree. Before leaving, he checked his image in the mirror. He straightened his tie and tugged at his vest before heading down the walk.

  At Lydia’s home, Zane rapped on the door. Suddenly, he was as self-conscious as a schoolboy and his stomach knotted. That stew must have been off because he couldn’t be nervous.

  Rachel answered the door and she smiled at him. “Mr. Evans, won’t you come inside?”

  He stepped into the foyer. “Actually, I came to ask you to accompany me for a stroll about town.”

  “That sounds lovely. Let me tell someone I’m leaving.” She hurried into the parlor.

  Chapter Seven

  Rachel thanked her lucky stars for her good fortune. “Prudence, Mr. Evans has called to ask me for a walk. How’s my hair?”

  “You look great as always. I wish a gentleman would call for me.”

  “Oh, you can count on at least one and probably more.” As she rushed to meet Zane, Rachel pinched her cheeks to add color.

  When they were on the porch, he offered his arm. She placed her hand on his sleeve. Scolding herself for the tingling that shot through her, she had to take hold of her emotions. Tell that to the butterflies swirling in her stomach.

  Cotton clouds dotted the azure sky. A breeze from the southwest swirled around them.

  “Lovely afternoon for a walk. Thank you for asking me.”

  “You ladies looked a picture this morning. I wanted to ask you then, but there was no way to get close enough.” He escorted her down the walk and toward town.

  “Lydia warned us not to dally or we’d be late getting back for dinner. Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Greenburg take turns going to church, but apparently Sunday dinner is always a grand affair.”

  “I’ve been among her guests on several occasions. I’ve wondered if that dinner style applies even when she’s alone?”

  “She’d never ask Mrs. Murphy to go to that trouble for just her. She wants us to learn to be gracious hostesses so that when we marry we can entertain in a way that makes our husbands proud. Some of the girls came from humble homes and others were wealthy.”

  “And which category fits you?”

  “I suppose I’m somewhere in the middle. Tell me about yourself, Mr. Evans.” Maybe that would sidetrack questions about her.

  “I’m thirty, grew up in Pennsylvania, served in the war, worked across the country, but have sunk permanent roots here in Tarnation.”

  She guessed he didn’t say which side he’d been on in the war because he’d been a Union soldier. “After your travel, why did you choose this particular town?”

  He nodded a greeting at a man they passed. “Can’t say why exactly, but this area appealed to me. It’s destined to grow substantially or I miss my guess. I suspect before many years pass there’ll be a railroad line through here.”

  “But won’t that destroy your company?”

  “The opposite. My business will be much easier and grow. There’ll still be people shipping things here that will need to be warehoused until they’re claimed. Others will need to ship things too large to mail. I also provide a packing service to protect against breakage.”

  “Obviously, you’ve thought this out for the long-term. Clever of you, Mr. Evans.”

  “I need a bookkeeper, Miss Ross. Since you said you have experience, I hoped you’d be interested.”

  Of course she was interested—if his offer was genuine. She wouldn’t be made a scapegoat again. Still, working for and with the man who most appealed to her would be perfect.

  “Tell me what you have in mind.”

  “Currently, I travel to and from Fort Worth twice a month. That means I’m gone half the time. Those who want to claim their freight have to wait until I’m in town. If I had someone in the office who could match up orders with goods, then no one would have to wait on me.”

  He grinned and gave a shrug. “And, frankly, I’m not a fan of bookkeeping or filing.”

  “I enjoy keeping accounts. No matter how disappointed you are in people, you can always count on two plus two being four. Numbers never desert you.”

  “Sounds as if you’ve had bad experiences in your past. You’ll find the folks in Tarnation are—for the most part—good people.”

  She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m counting on that, Mr. Evans.”

  “Will you be able to come to the office tomorrow?”

  “I’ll have to check with Lydia to learn if she’s made plans for us. She’s been exceedingly kind to me and I don’t want to repay her with rudeness.”

  “If she has reservations about you being monopolized, you can work half days. Pettigrew would print a sign for the door instructing anyone who needs to claim merchandise to contact you at Lydia’s.”

  “That’s a little better than being closed I suppose, but I don’t understand the logic.”

  “I may as well speak plainly.” He ran a finger around his collar. “Obviously, I’m attracted to you—only one of many who are. Half-days would give you plenty of time to socialize with the other men who want to court you.”

  She couldn’t suppress her laughter. “And you’re certain that would happen? You flatter me.”

  “I’m a realist. You said numbers don’t lie. Seven women at the reception, but fifteen men.” He shook his head. “Odds are not in my favor.”

  “Well, don’t you agree that sometimes numbers can be surprising?” She gazed up at him through her lashes in what she hoped was a coquettish manner.

  A wide smile split his handsome face. “I sure hope so, and in my favor.”

  “If Lydia has no objection, what time should I be at the freight office tomorrow?”

  “Is nine too early?”

  “Not at all. If she objects, I’ll at least come and let you know her decision.”

  He gestured to a building. “Here’s the office and warehouse. The paddock for the mules and horses is behind and to the east.”

  The freight office was a one-story white frame building connected to a tall and long brown warehouse. At one side, a large red barn stood in a pasture surrounded by trees. Mules and horses grazed in the sun.

  Several rail fences separated the large meadow into four sections. Gates—closed now—would allow moving the animals from one part to another. At the edge, four small houses would have been identical except for the difference in exterior paint.

  “I didn’t notice this when we went to church today. You have a large area.”

  He leaned against a rail fence. “Twenty mules and eight horses need plenty of pasture. We use six or eight mules per wagon, depending on what I expect to be hauling.”

  “You go out alone?”

  “No, Ken Hill is my other driver and we take four armed cowboys riding guard with us, which accounts for th
e horses. Have to be prepared for a horse to go lame or some such. We have others cared for at three points along the way. Those four houses are where the guards live.”

  “I had no idea yours was such a large operation. That’s six of you. How can you make any money with so many people to pay?”

  “I charge drayage but none of us are getting rich.” He met her gaze. “Don’t think I’m gouging people because I’m not. When people choose to live in a remote area like this, they take into account that they’ll pay to have things shipped here.”

  “Give me an example of things you’ve delivered.”

  “The piano for the opera house. Draperies, seats, and lights, too. Have a piano in the warehouse now waiting for pickup.”

  “Oh, carting a piano up and down these hills must have been an experience.”

  “Believe me, things like that are a trial, but also my bread and butter so I can’t complain too much.” He looked at the sky. “I’d better get you back or Lydia will be sending the sheriff after us.”

  She grinned at her companion. “That would be embarrassing.”

  He pretended to be aggravated at the thought but his eyes sparkled with humor. “Annoying is more like it.”

  As they strolled back west, Zane told her about each business they passed and who owned it.

  When they reached Lydia’s porch, he took Rachel’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Miss Ross. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He kissed her fingers.

  Flustered by his action, she savored the experience. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Evans.”

  When she was inside, she leaned against the closed door a few seconds. With a sigh, she went in search of Lydia.

  “May I speak to you privately?”

  “Of course, let’s go to my office.” Lydia opened the door and allowed Rachel to precede her.

  Once the door was closed, Rachel dropped into a chair. “Mr. Evans asked me to be his bookkeeper, starting tomorrow morning. Do I dare?”

  Instead of sitting at her desk, Lydia chose the other chair near Rachel. “That’s up to you, of course, but there’s no reason not to accept his offer if you wish to work again.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “I do. I loved my job and I’m not being conceited when I tell you I’m good at accounts. At the Worthington Institute, I was awarded top student. I even brought the certificate with me.”

  “Then, congratulations.” A conspiratorial smile bloomed on Lydia’s face. “And what do you think of Zane Evans?”

  Rachel grinned and clasped her hands to her chest. “He’s expressed interest in courting me.”

  Lydia shook her head. “But, that’s what he thinks of you. What is your impression of him?”

  “I admit I find him attractive. I-I can’t quite bring myself to trust anyone other than you, Sophie, and my brother.”

  Lydia gave Rachel’s hand a squeeze. “I assure you Zane Evans is a good man who has my confidence.”

  Rachel frowned, almost afraid to say more. “He said he’d dined here. You’re n-not interested in marrying him, are you?”

  Her hostess appeared almost wistful. “No, my interest lies elsewhere or I wouldn’t have encouraged you to work for him.” She leaned forward and laid a hand against her heart. “Trust me, I would definitely not push the man I want in front of another woman.”

  Rachel relaxed against the chair. “I thought so, but I had to ask. I’d never knowingly do anything to upset you, Lydia. You saved my life.”

  With a dismissive wave, Lydia said, “That’s overdramatizing things, dear. However, I’m pleased to help in whatever ways I can.”

  Rachel took her leave and hurried to her room before supper. She sorted through her clothes to choose her favorite work dress. Her navy cotton with the tiny white pinstripes had served her well. The trim of solid navy was on the cuffs and in a border around the skirt. A navy front yoke had white buttons down the front.

  She separated her hats and retrieved the matching one and her kid gloves. With her white parasol, she was prepared for tomorrow. That settled, she went down to supper.

  At half past eight Monday morning, Rachel set out toward the other end of town. She smiled at those she met. Several were men who’d been at the reception and others people she’d seen at church.

  Knowledge that she was becoming a part of the community warmed her. She didn’t delude herself. Lydia’s introduction had paved her way. Still, residents appeared to receive her with an open mind.

  She paused for a moment to admire the setting. Sunlight changed dewdrops into thousands of sparkling diamonds on the grass. Wisps of morning fog rose from a stream winding through the fields.

  “Afraid to go inside?”

  She jumped and whirled. “Mr. Evans, my, but you startled me. I was admiring the pastoral scene.”

  With a smile, he stood with his hands in his pockets and gazed at his business. “I always enjoy seeing the place in the morning light. Shall we go to the office?”

  She placed her hand on his arm, surprised at the effect the muscles beneath the cloth had on her. They crossed the dirt street and entered the building. The office was small, but she couldn’t imagine his business required extensive room.

  “This will be your desk. I work from the office behind this.”

  She peeked into his domain. A large desk and a chair took up most of the space, but a cot and chest had been pushed to one corner. A miniature kitchen area had a sink with pump handle at the side. “Oh, do you sleep here?”

  He tugged at his ear. “I used to live here while I was building my home and I used the front room for business. Now this is my office.” He grinned. “Guess I could take a nap if I wanted to, but I’ll soon be clearing out the bed and linens.”

  Embarrassed to have forced him to defend himself, she walked to her desk. She wondered about spending time in such a bland environment. Should she speak and risk censure or keep silent and face austere surroundings?

  “Um, Mr. Evans? Will you mind if I bring a plant and maybe hang a picture or two?”

  He surveyed the room. “Guess it is bleak, isn’t it? Just shows the place needs a woman’s touch. Get what you need at the mercantile and add it to my account.”

  “Thank you. I promise not to go wild and bankrupt you.”

  Changing to pensive, he said, “Jim Boyd paints pictures and sells them through the store. He does nice work. I have a couple at my house.”

  “I’ll certainly see if he has any that would fit this space.”

  She sat at the desk. “Now, show me your record keeping method.”

  There were two filing cabinets behind her desk in addition to a nice hall table against a wall. Two wooden armchairs sat in front of her desk and a comfortable-looking chair waited for her. She visualized the room with a few decorative touches, happy at the prospect of creating a hospitable area.

  Zane gestured to the corner of the desk where an open wooden box overflowed with papers. “These are this month’s receipts and billings… probably still some from last month, too.” He opened the desk drawer and drew out a single ledger.

  She gaped at him then laughed. “That’s it? This is your system?”

  Blushing, he shrugged. “Shouldn’t be hard for you anyway.”

  Oh, my, she shouldn’t have embarrassed him. She tapped a finger on the box edge. “Each of these papers needs to be entered in the ledger and then filed in the correct folder, am I right?”

  He tugged at his ear again. “You might want to set up the files differently. As I said, I’m not fond of paperwork. Frankly, I’m not that good at it either.”

  “We’re more likely to be good at things in which we’re interested. Fortunately, I’m interested in bookkeeping and filing.”

  “Glad you’re here, Miss Ross. I need to run a couple of errands while you get settled. If you have questions, make a list on paper you’ll find in the top right drawer. I’ll answer them when I return.”

  After Zane had left, Rachel explored her desk
and the filing cabinets. She read the ledger to see how he preferred records entered. He used a simple debit and credit system on the same page with a subtotal at the bottom.

  Leaning back in her chair, she realized she was truly happy for the first time in a long time. Oh, she’d been glad when she was released from prison. And, she’d been relieved and hopeful when Lydia chose her to come to Texas.

  This was different. Keeping books was her world. Here she would be useful while creating her new life.

  Chapter Eight

  Zane strode to the warehouse to speak with the men who worked for him. The building was larger than he needed, but he’d built it with the future in mind. He intended to become a successful freight broker when the railroad arrived. In the meantime, he was doing well hauling wagon loads of goods to and from Fort Worth.

  Although he didn’t extort, his charges were making a living for himself and the men who worked for him without touching his capital. Heavily laden wagons made a target for thieves and renegades. So far, none of his men had been killed, but Vic Marshall and Bronco Alvarez had each been shot and he’d been grazed in one attack.

  The four men who rode as guards for the loads he hauled were former gunfighters, and they still had that appearance. Each man was loyal to him and acted grateful for his job, which came with a small home. The salary was not that great, but apparently a rent-free home counted for a lot. They also helped in the warehouse and with the stock.

  He found the men shifting crates. “Morning, men. Did Traveland pick up his piano?”

  Vic Marshall turned toward him. “His man Wood came. We loaded the pianny and he left.” He nodded toward a sheet of paper. “Signed receipt is on the hook.”

  Zane grabbed the document Vic indicated, folded it, and slid it into his jacket’s inside pocket. “He paid me on Saturday and said he’d send someone in today.”

  Zane stepped forward and widened his stance. “I’ve a new employee who’ll be in the office mornings. Her name is Miss Rachel Ross. She’s going to keep books and straighten out the files.”