Rachel (Bride Brigade Book 5)

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Please call me Zane whether or not we’re by ourselves. True, we haven’t known one another long, but I fell hard at the reception. I’ll give you time to become better acquainted with me, but there’s no doubt about my feelings.”

  “You’re very kind, Zane.” She finished her meal and blotted her lips with her napkin. “Shall I return our dishes and the basket to the café?”

  He exhaled and his blue eyes appeared sad. “I’ll take them back. I have one more errand.”

  “Zane, please realize I want to be certain the attraction I feel for you is not a lonely woman’s hopeful fantasy.” She loaded dishes into the basket.

  A wide smile split his handsome face and his blue eyes sparkled. “So, you do feel something for me?”

  “You must know I do. I’ve been wrong before and can’t trust my judgment where men are concerned.”

  “Ah, so I’m paying for whatever some cad did to you. Have you been lonely, Rachel?”

  “All my life, but especially the last three years.”

  “But, you have at least one sibling because you’ve mentioned your brother.”

  She took a deep breath to calm the panic she experienced whenever he asked about her past. “Besides Patrick, I have three sisters. Hannah is one year younger than me. Although I can’t imagine why, she’s always been very jealous of me and acrimonious. Ruth and Sarah are spoiled, silly young women whose main interest is gossip and parties.”

  “That left you out as far as family companionship is concerned, didn’t it?”

  “Patrick has always been protective and my friend, but he’s being groomed as heir to our father’s business. When I left home, he was the only one to show regret. He hugged me and promised to come for a visit. My mother bid me goodbye, but neither of my sisters even said anything.”

  She almost confessed the reason but wariness stayed her admission. What if she and Zane weren’t destined to marry? In that case, he would have no reason to keep her confidence. No, she had to keep her own counsel for now.

  He held her shoulders gently. “That’s wrong, my dear Rachel. Unless you choose to be, you’ll never be lonely here. At least, not if I have any say in the matter.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Zane. Perhaps you can understand my reluctance to commit this soon.”

  He released her. “All right, I understand. I can wait, Rachel, as long as I know I have a chance.” He fished in his pocket. “You’ll need this key to the office.” That said, he grabbed the basket and walked from the room.

  Rachel was overwhelmed by the trust he displayed in her. After putting the key inside her handbag, she sighed and returned to her filing. Zane was correct in that her experience with Howard Forsythe filled her with fear she’d misplace her trust again. He had crushed her confidence and she wondered if she’d be able to have faith in any man.

  By the end of the day, she was about halfway through her filing. Zane didn’t return to the office. She made tidy piles of those folders she had yet to straighten then locked the door and went on her way.

  Chapter Ten

  Zane quietly whistled a tune as he headed for the hotel. Perhaps John had answered his wire by now. Not that he would have had time to learn anything, but John would let him know if he could accept his request.

  At the hotel, he stood at the front desk. “Have you had a wire for me, Lemuel?”

  Lemuel pulled an envelope from the pigeon holes behind him. “Put this aside for you a half hour ago.”

  Zane pushed a quarter across the counter. “Thanks.”

  He couldn’t wait to read John’s answer and ripped open the envelope there in the hotel lobby.

  “Leaving now for Richmond. Stop More in a couple of days. Stop”

  Zane smiled and stuffed the wire into his pocket. John would arrive in Richmond later today. But, in a couple of days, Zane would be headed for Fort Worth.

  “Lemuel, let me send an answer to Richmond. Would you give me paper and a pencil?”

  “Here you go. Hope everything is okay.” Lemuel was the nosiest man Zane knew, but he could keep a secret when asked.

  “Couldn’t be better.” Heedless of the hotel owner peering on with curiosity, Zane wrote out his message.

  “Leaving dawn Thursday for Fort Worth. Stop. Gone eight days. Stop. Thanks for doing this favor. Stop. I owe you. Stop.”

  John insisted Zane had saved his life on two occasions and promised that he’d always be at Zane’s beck and call. Zane had never expected to make use of that pledge but now he had. By the time he returned from this trip, he’d have the information he wanted.

  Today, Rachel had revealed a little more about her family. She was still guarded about details. Perhaps her hesitation was because of something to do with the man who’d caused her withdrawal.

  Whatever had happened wouldn’t dissuade Zane from pursuing Rachel. His attraction might not be logical but the power of it indicated that she was the one for him. Naturally he wanted to know more about her, so what?

  Was he wrong? He hoped she wouldn’t reject him because of his prying. She might be angry, but something put fear in her eyes. Damned if he wouldn’t try to fix the problem.

  ***

  Rachel detoured by the mercantile.

  Michael Buchanan stood at the counter. “Hello, Miss Ross. May I help you?”

  “I need to browse. I’m looking for a container for a houseplant. A wide vase or large bowl will work.”

  She ambled up and down the aisles. Nothing fit her mental image but she chose a crockery ware mixing bowl. After she set that on the counter, she selected vinegar and furniture polish.

  When she set those beside the bowl, she asked, “May I have a half yard of white flannel? That is, unless you have polishing cloths in stock.”

  Michael Buchanan came from behind the counter. “I’ll measure off the flannel. Most people use old clothes, but I don’t imagine you ladies brought those with you.”

  When he’d cut the length, he asked, “This go on Evan’s account?”

  “No, these are for my desk and the windows. I would like to add to his account several of Mr. Boyd’s paintings and that Seth Thomas wall clock. Also, do you have a map of this area?”

  “I’ll take down the clock while you look at the paintings. Boyd does nice work and includes the frames in his price.” He strode to remove the clock from the wall.

  “Oh, he’s painted one of the freight wagons. I’ll take that one.” She tapped a finger against her chin while she surveyed the other paintings.

  “You’ll want me to deliver the clock and pictures, won’t you?”

  “That would be helpful. I’m trying to decide on two other of Mr. Boyd’s work.”

  “Take your time, Miss Ross. I’ll have to box up the clock carefully. In the meantime, I do have a map that you might like.” He unrolled one. “This map of Texas is hand-colored and is pretty expensive to my mind, but I have to break even. I have a sepia map that’s much cheaper.”

  After checking the price of each, she said, “I’ll take the hand-colored one. Do you suppose Mr. Boyd could make a frame for me?”

  “Gallagher is the one who makes the frames and I’m sure he would build one. Neither of us has a glass this size. You could ask Evans to bring a pane on his next trip.”

  She wondered how a pane of glass could remain undamaged on that trip. “Good idea. I’ll take the large paintings of the wagons and of the men at the warehouse, those smaller of the lone horseman and of the mountains. That should be enough.”

  “I’ll bring these to you in the morning along with a hammer and some nails the size you need.”

  “Thank you for your help, Mr. Buchanan. I’ll take the bowl to see if Mr. Ramirez has any plants that would be suitable for an office desk.” Before she left she told him to set up separate accounts for Zane’s personal and business expenses.

  Using Mr. Buchanan’s directions, she found the Boyd brothers’ small home. When a man answered, she heard loud snores from the
next room. The smell of turpentine and oil paints greeted her.

  “Are you Mr. James Boyd?” she asked.

  “Yes. You’re one of the Bride Brigade, but I don’t know your name.” He stood back for her to enter.

  “I’m Rachel Ross. I just bought several of your paintings on behalf of Mr. Evans to decorate his office.” How could she manage this so she didn’t show her regard for Zane? “Could I commission you to do a portrait of Mr. Evans without his knowledge.”

  “I’d be happy to. Anything in particular about the pose?”

  “Him sitting at his desk, maybe leaning back in his chair and smiling. Do you need a lot of time to catch him in that pose and sketch him?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I have a very good memory. Once I see something, all the details come to me as I paint.”

  “I understand why your paintings are so wonderful. Of course, I’ll be paying you for this portrait. Can you tell me about how much you’ll charge?”

  For a couple of minutes, he thought over her question. “Ten dollars. That includes the frame from Colin Gallagher.”

  “That’s fair. Please let me know when you’ve completed the work. Shall I give you half now as good faith and half when you’re done?”

  “That’d be good.”

  She was glad she hadn’t spent money when she went shopping in St. Louis. After opening her handbag, she fished out five dollars. “There you are, Mr. Boyd. Um…I’ll appreciate if you keep this a secret.”

  His face held a puzzled expression. “As you wish. Probably take me a week or ten days, depending on how much other work I have.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  She left Mr. Boyd and walked to the Gallagher home. When she’d explained what she wanted, he nodded.

  “Won’t take long. Forty-five inches square for a map. I can have that ready for you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll get the glass. Mr. Buchanan doesn’t have any that size. He suggested I ask Mr. Evans to get a pane in Fort Worth.”

  He looked askance. “Naw, send the frame with Evans. He can have the glass cut in Fort Worth. That way, you can be sure of a good fit and the glass will be stable in the frame.”

  Why hadn’t that occurred to her? “That’s a grand idea. He’s leaving at dawn on Thursday.”

  Her errands in town completed, she practically danced to Lydia’s. Before going inside, she walked around to the small home where the Ramirez couple lived. She found Mr. Ramirez working in his own flower beds.

  He rose from his knees and brushed the soil from his pants then nodded respectfully. “How are you, Miss Ross?”

  She showed him the wide bowl. “I’m working at the freight office as bookkeeper. Do you have plants I could put in this to go on my desk?”

  “Sí, I have what you require. Small cacti would be easy to care for but add green to your desk. If you will leave me the bowl, I will prepare the arrangement for you tonight.”

  She handed him the container. “That’s kind of you, Mr. Ramirez. I’ll pick up the bowl from you in the morning and pay you then if that’s acceptable.”

  He waved his hand back and forth. “No, no, there is no charge. The plants are those I remove from Mrs. Harrison’s garden to prevent overcrowding. She pays me well to do this.” He smiled broadly. “I like everyone to have plants to brighten their lives.”

  “Thank you, and your effort will add cheer to my life. The freight office is bleak now and I’m trying to improve the atmosphere there.”

  “Bueno. This will be heavy when filled. I will bring it to the freight office tomorrow.”

  “You’re very kind. I appreciate your help more than I can say.”

  He carried the bowl to his porch while she scooted through the gate into Lydia’s garden and then into the house.

  Lydia spotted her. “How was your day? You were gone longer than I expected.” She raised a hand in a staying motion. “That’s all right, I’m just curious.”

  “I have a lot to tell you. Usually, I’ll only work half a day but I started organizing the files and had them scattered. I didn’t think I should leave. Mr. Evans—he told me to call him Zane—brought our dinner from the café. After I left the office, I was in time to go by the mercantile.

  “Zane said I could decorate the office so it won’t be bleak. I hope he meant it because I charged four paintings to him and a lovely wall clock. Then I stopped by Mr. Ramirez’s home to show him a bowl and ask him about plants for it to set on my desk.”

  Lydia grinned. “I gather you like the job… and your employer.”

  Rachel sensed the heat of a blush spread across her face. “H-He wants me to marry him, but I want to take my time and be certain he really means that.”

  “He wouldn’t have spoken unless he was sure. He travels to Fort Worth once or twice a month and has the opportunity to meet and court any woman there.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I hadn’t considered that. Honestly, I pictured him going from one warehouse to another and then heading back to Tarnation.”

  “I believe he has a circle of friends in Fort Worth. He’s an amiable man and is certain to meet eligible women.”

  “Oh.”

  What a ninny she was. What if he fell for someone on a regular basis and she was simply his latest? What if he decided to marry another woman?

  She’d have Zane’s portrait. With an inward grimace, she decided the painting would make a good wedding gift even if she did feel strange giving it away. She could hardly keep the portrait of a married man.

  What if she didn’t find love? At least she would have her bookkeeping business. Her work for Zane would give her a start. Renting a small office would be possible. No, she’d rent a small home and work from there, turning her parlor into an office.

  Lydia laid a hand on Rachel’s arm. “You appear upset. I only meant to reassure you, dear, not cause alarm.”

  “Not your fault, Lydia. I realized I counted on Zane remaining committed to wedding me. I took too much for granted. You’d think I’d learn.”

  “Not the same thing at all, Rachel. Did the man who—” Lydia glanced around to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard—“framed you declare himself for you?”

  “He dropped hints, but no, he didn’t actually speak for me. I was naïve and foolish and read more into his comments than I should have.”

  Lydia raised her eyebrows and nodded. “As I’m sure he intended. Promising without truly speaking a promise that could be held against him later is an art among rats like him. I assure you, if Zane says he wants to marry you, he is being truthful.”

  “Even if he means what he says for now, he may change his mind as he gets to know me better. He might become aware of habits of mine that annoy him.”

  “Such as?”

  Rachel shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes an innocent gesture or way of saying things can annoy another person. I can’t accept without telling him my past. He well might change his mind then.”

  Lydia squeezed Rachel’s arm. “You’re overthinking, dear, but I understand your hesitation. Please, give Zane a chance, will you?”

  “I intend to. I’m very attracted to him but I have to tread lightly.”

  “Excuse me, Rachel, but Cassandra is vying for my attention. Give what I said consideration.”

  Lydia hurried across the room. Rachel went to her room to wash up for supper.

  Later that evening, she composed a letter to her brother.

  Dear Patrick,

  So much has happened since last I saw you! The train ride to Texas in Lydia Harrison’s private rail car was a wonderful, luxurious experience. Besides enjoying the changing landscape, I never imagined such opulence existed on a train. The car was like a fine hotel.

  But, the stage ride was exhausting! I’m surprised the jostling and bumping didn’t break bones and crack teeth. I don’t think I’ll leave town until the railroad reaches Tarnation. Imagine nine women (counting our chap
erones), baskets of food, and valises squeezed into a stage. We could hardly take a deep breath, much less move.

  The seven of us plus Lydia and Sophie Gaston arrived to a welcoming committee of over a dozen eligible bachelors. You would be surprised at Lydia’s home. Her late husband built a replica of the old Virginia plantation where she’d lived so she’d feel at home here in Texas. Of course, it’s lavish but is tastefully decorated and I immediately felt at home. I’m the lucky one of the girls who has my own room.

  On Saturday, Lydia hosted a reception for us to meet the fifteen men she had selected as eligible. Each appears nice and several are handsome as well. On Saturday, she’s hosting a dance for the town at her home’s ballroom. Yes, her home has a ballroom!

  Things continue to get better! I started work as bookkeeper for the man who owns the freight office. His name is Zane Evans and he is the most attractive man I’ve ever met (of course you are an exception, dear brother). Don’t worry!!! I’m being very cautious about choosing a husband. If I don’t find one to my liking who wants to wed me, I’ll set up as bookkeeper for the public. There are enough businesses in town to support my services. I can rent a small house and work from home.

  I’m so happy here, dear brother, except for missing you! I wish I could say I miss the rest of the family, but their recent treatment makes that impossible. I will let you know if I decide to wed. I’ve already had one proposal from Zane Evans! He appears perfect—he’s tall with blond hair and very blue eyes and a good sense of humor and strong work ethic! But, I believe I should take more time before I commit.

  Please write soon. Give my regards to Dahlia. You both deserve the best! You may also tell Mama of my happiness here.

  Much love,

  Your sister, Rachel

  She reread the letter. Maybe she’d used too many exclamation marks but she wanted Patrick to know how enthusiastic she was about her new home. Folding the paper, she added Patrick’s home address. She hoped one of her sisters wouldn’t be mean enough to hide or destroy the missive before her brother read it. What did she care if one of them sneaked a peek at the letter?