by Zina Abbott
“Why would I want to do that? I have no interest in what is going on at the mine.”
Eddie Joe quick-stepped towards the door of the ranch office. “True, but they can tell you more about how this bridal agency thing works. Can’t hurt to learn all the details, just in case. You know, considering your age and all…”
Zeb jumped to his feet and leaned forward over his desk, balancing his body on the knuckles of his two fists. “Don’t start in with that ‘old’ business again, Eddie Joe. I’m not pushing forty.”
“Nope, Boss. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll tell Rusty to get things ready for your trip to town.” With that, Eddie Joe escaped the office.
.
.
.
.
jubilee springs, colorado – august 1881
CHAPTER 9
~o0o~
Zeb rode his horse at a leisurely pace staying just far enough ahead of the wagon Rusty drove to keep the young driver moving, but far enough away to discourage talk. He let Rusty eat what little dust Bruiser kicked up instead of him eating the dust from the wagon. Bruiser was an old enough gelding he no longer signaled he wished for a long, hard run very often. So, Zeb enjoyed the sights around him the best he could, considering there was very little green left in the valley this time of year unless he was close to a water source, and he felt frustrated it was necessary to make this unexpected trip.
Bruiser started moving faster of his own accord as soon as they saw sights and sounds of the town before them. Zeb couldn’t help but grin. The old horse knew what it was about. He knew the sooner he got to town, the sooner Zeb would take him to the livery for water and some feed before it was time to return to the ranch. Some of his friends had expressed the opinion he fussed too much with his horses. He disagreed. He intended on partaking of a meal in town before his return home. Bruiser, who body size was much bigger than his, no doubt would appreciate a meal, too, especially since when he wasn’t being ridden, he spent his time in the pasture grazing.
Rusty followed Zeb to the livery. After Zeb turned Bruiser over to Johnny B. who ran the livery, he turned to Rusty. “Unhitch the horses, get them fed and watered, and be back here in two hours. I’ll need the wagon hitched back up and pulled in front of Brinks Mercantile. If they have what we need, they should have it ready by then.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Jacobson.”
“And another thing, if you want a bath, that’s all right, but stay away from the Corner Saloon. And no crossing the river for any reason.” Zeb narrowed his eyes as he studied his young cowhand who might be all of seventeen or eighteen. He could tell his orders didn’t set too well with Rusty. Too bad. Zeb was looking out for the best interests of the young man whether it was appreciated or not. Zeb dug into his pockets and pulled out a few coins. “Here. Why don’t you see what they have at DeMitri’s Bakery. You can ask them where you can get a real meal while you’re at it.”
“What if the only place with food is the Corner Saloon?”
Zeb narrowed his eyes and assumed his sternest expression. “Hear they were opening a new eatery on Main Street next to the mercantile. If it’s not ready yet, there’s the River Valley Inn. If you end up at the Corner Saloon for lunch, only food, no beer, no hard liquor, no card games and billiards only if there’s no money involved. I have my ways of checking up on you. I find out you’ve done any different than my instructions, you’ll be an old man before you get to town again. Hear me?”
“Yes, Mr. Jacobson. I’ll have the wagon back at the mercantile in two hours.”
The list along with Eddie Joe’s three letters in his pocket, Zeb headed on foot towards the mercantile. Best to this over with. He planned to mail the letters, give Simon Brinks his list, and walk around the block to get some dinner.
Upon entering the mercantile, Zeb stood inside next to the door and looked around. He didn’t see Simon. He noticed Mrs. Brinks behind the counter. Good. She was the one to give the letters to. Since mail service in Monarch Bend amounted some kindly neighbor or the general and feed store owner picking up mail on their way back from Jubilee Springs with a promise to bring it out to the ranch as soon as possible, he’d also check to see if he had any mail.
Zeb had taken several steps down the aisle when he noticed someone he had never seen before come from behind the counter and walk towards him. He slowed his steps, at first surprised to see an unfamiliar woman. He shrugged. Why should he be surprised? All Eddie Joe had been able to blather about the last month was the new brides that had been coming to Jubilee Springs. Somewhere in the middle of all his tall tale telling, Eddie Joe, confirmed by the other hands who had gone to Jubilee Springs for the Fourth of July celebration, had mentioned that the son of the mercantile owner who worked as a miner for Prosperity Mine was one of the men who got married. Perhaps this was the son’s new bride. If so, judging by her demeanor and appearance, the man had done all right for himself.
A pang of jealousy slammed Zeb in the chest. The woman gracefully walking towards him who now was only ten feet away wasn’t a real looker, as the men might say, but she was attractive. It was more the air about her. She appeared to be well brought up and trained to behave properly. Intelligence and an eagerness to be helpful radiated from her eyes. She was older, no spring chicken barely out of school, which appealed to Zeb more than a fresh young thing would have. He was no good at guessing ages, especially when it came to women, but he judged her to be late twenties, no more than very early thirties. From what he recalled of the Brinks son the time or two he had seen the man, he was about thirty years old or almost there. This woman was just about the right age for him.
She’s about the right age for me.
Unsure where that thought came from, and determined to not let it rattle him to the point his tongue tripped all over itself, he smiled as she stopped about four feet from him.
“Hello. Welcome to Brinks Mercantile. Is there something I can help you find?”
Zeb had a feeling he already found what he wanted. Too bad she was already spoken for. Chastising himself, he pushed his feelings aside. The yearnings coursing through him were what he got for listening to that Eddie Joe flap his jaws about the brides coming to Jubilee Springs.
Zeb removed his hat with one hand and pulled the list and the letters from his pocket with the other. He handed the list to the young woman. “Howdy, ma’am. Name’s Zebulon Jacobson, and I own a spread over in Monarch Bend. Turns out we need a few things to get us by before I go on my big shopping trip to Denver. I’d be mighty obliged if the mercantile can fill most of this order.”
Bessie took the list and began to study it. “I think we can fill all of it. If not, I believe we can get what you need up by train within a week. Excuse me, I’m not sure of this one word.”
Bessie stepped closer and showed Zeb the list, her finger pointed to the word to which she referred.”
Zeb felt his entire insides scramble within him as soon as she stood less than two feet from him. Although they didn’t touch she had turned so they were standing almost side by side, her shoulder within inches of his. He inhaled the lilac fragrance she wore, and his eyes kept darting away from the page she held in her hands to take in the graceful curve of her neck, her heaving bosom which, although modestly clothed, still sent his heart racing. God sure did build women to look different than men. Zeb wasn’t sure exactly why, but at the moment he found those differences intriguing—especially with this woman.
Stop it Zeb. You’re making a fool of yourself with another man’s wife.
Zeb forced his eyes to focus on the word to which she pointed and his brain to focus on the handwriting. “Sorry, ma’am. My foreman wrote out the list for me. It took a moment to make out his handwriting. It’s ‘airtights.’ He said we need some airtights of pork and beans, peaches, tomatoes and whatever else you got that will keep well up in line shacks through the freezing weather of winter.”
“Oh! You mean canned food.”
“Probably, ma’am.
Whatever they’re calling them these days. I’ll just drop these letters off with Mrs. Brinks and say hello to her. My man will be back in about two hours with the wagon to help load out what you can give us. I can talk to Mr. Brinks about ordering in what you may be missing.”
Bessie nodded and stepped out of the man’s way so he could continue to the back of the store where her aunt kept the post. She watched is back as he walked. Back in Terre Haute, she hadn’t had occasion to see many men who worked with cattle. Here in Jubilee Springs she had mostly seen miners and shopkeepers or other townspeople. She found his dress, his wide-brimmed hat with its high crown—Stetsons, is what her uncle had told her was the brand—and the jangle of the spurs with its small rowel he wore intriguing.
Truth be told, Bessie found the man himself interesting. Of average height, he walked and acted like a giant among men. His broad shoulders and the thick muscles on his arms and legs gave evidence he worked physically worked hard for a living. His backside was flat, a testament he spent a lot of time in a saddle. And although Bessie had no idea what direction to head to reach Monarch Bend, she had picked up enough information about it to know it was an area of farms and ranches with only a few small businesses to support it. The train followed the Arkansas River, not the wide creek that flowed past Monarch Bend and emptied into the river south of town, so the area didn’t have access to the railroad. It didn’t have its own post office, which explained why ranchers from ten to fifteen miles away came into Jubilee Springs for their mail. After all, from what her aunt had explained to her, Jubilee Springs had only gained its own post office earlier that year when the railroad opened for business in April. The coming of the railroad was one of the changes that had made it feasible for the Bainbridge brothers to set up conditions for their men to correspond with prospective brides, and then bring them to Jubilee Springs to marry.
Bessie turned away and forced her attention to the task before her. She couldn’t afford to ogle every handsome man who walked into the store. It wasn’t the proper behavior for any decent woman, let alone a confirmed spinster. Besides, a man the age of Mr. Jacobson with a successful ranch was no doubt married, and had his reasons for not bringing his wife and family on such a long trip to pick up a few supplies. She read through the list more slowly, and began the process of gathering the items their latest customer requested.
Zeb inhaled deeply and stiffened his spine as he walked towards the back counter. The letters he promised to mail for Eddie Joe were at risk of being crumpled into a tight wad, he had them clutched so tightly in his fingers. That woman got his attention far more than he should have allowed. Why couldn’t he focus on what he came to town for so he could get back to the ranch as soon as possible?
Zeb greeted Mrs. Brinks. Always friendly, he knew if he approached it right, the woman would tell what he wanted to know. He handed the letters to her and made small talk before he got around to the subject on his mind. By that time, Simon Brinks, who must have been in the back storage room, joined his wife and him at the counter.
Zeb decided it was now or never. “I met your son’s new wife. It looks like he picked out a lovely lady.”
Desi’s face lit with a smile. “Yes. We are so happy for Aaron. She’s a lovely young girl, even though she is on the shy side.”
Zeb bit his tongue to keep from saying anything unseemly. His impression of the pretty woman with the thick brown hair and large matching eyes did not include shyness. Although quiet and politely reserved, she had been well-spoken and seemed to be comfortable about helping him with his order.
Zeb sensed more than heard the young woman walk up behind him and join him at the counter, standing about two feet away from him. “Uncle Simon, I’m glad you’re out front. Do we have maple syrup? I haven’t seen it and I’m not sure where to find it.”
Uncle Simon? Did Aaron Brinks marry his cousin? Is it even legal to do that?
“We have it in kegs, like molasses, Bessie, only they tend to be smaller. I’ll help you with that.” Simon turned to Zeb. “Mr. Jacobson, have you met my niece yet? May I please introduce you to Miss Elisabeth Carlson, although we call her Bessie? I just brought her home with me on the train this past week after the funeral for my dearly departed sister. She has come to live with us and help us in the mercantile.”
Zeb’s mind raced as he put it together. Being busy on the ranch in Monarch Bend, he had not known the shopkeeper had gone out of town. But, here the man said he had returned just the week before bringing his niece, this same woman before him, to live with them. The miners who had married had done so over the Independence Day holiday a good month earlier. And the man had made a point to introduce her as a “miss” not a “missus.”
Zeb turned to the woman, his lips wavering as he fought back an uncharacteristic for him bought of being tongue-tied. “I’m sorry, Miss Carlson. I addressed you incorrectly earlier.”
“That’s understandable, Mr. Jacobson. You had no way of knowing.” Bessie’s eyes lit with laughter and her lips twitched into a hint of a smile. “You mistook me for my cousin’s new wife, didn’t you?”
Zeb, who never blushed, felt his neck and face grow warm. “Yes, Miss Carlson, I will confess. That was my first assumption. Although…” Zeb paused as he studied her face, then turned to look at Simon. “…now it’s pointed out to me, from what I recollect of seeing Aaron Brinks, I can see the family resemblance.”
Bessie’s lips widened into a full smile. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobson. I consider that a compliment.”
Desi chimed in. “We always called Aaron and Bessie the cousin twins. They behaved a lot like twins even though they came from different parents and were born several months apart. She’s like a daughter to us.”
Unable to take his eyes off Bessie, Zeb watched her as she turned to her aunt and offered her an affectionate smile.
The words were out of Zeb’s mouth before he knew he spoke them. “Miss Carlson, I’m on my way over to the River Valley Inn for some dinner. I’d be pleased if you could join me.”
Startled by his invitation, Bessie stepped back and brought her free hand up to her chest. How long had it been since a man invited her out for a meal? Almost ten years? “Thank you for your offer, Mr. Jacobson, but I’m working right now. Your order…”
Desi cut her off. “Give me his list, Bessie, dear. Your Uncle Simon and I will fill the order.” She laughed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “We’ve done this kind of thing before, you know. Why don’t you go to dinner with Mr. Jacobson? We can vouch for him.”
Zeb reinforced his request with a smile. Feeling out of sorts and tongue-tied from being in the presence of the pretty woman or not, Zeb Jacobson had gotten where he was in life by going after what he wanted. Right now, he wanted to spend time with Bessie Carlson. “I’d consider it a great honor, Miss Carlson. Besides saving me from having to eat alone, it will give me the opportunity to get to know one of Jubilee Springs newest residents better.”
Before Bessie could respond, Simon spoke up. “Bessie, may I speak with you in the storage room a second?” Simon turned to Zeb with a smile. “She’ll be with you in a few minutes. First I want to show her where we keep the barbed wire—for next time.”
Bessie stepped around the counter and followed Simon to the storage room. Once the door was closed, Simon turned to her, a serious expression on his face. “Bessie, I want you to go to dinner with Mr. Jacobson as a representative of the mercantile, if nothing else. You will be doing your aunt and I a great favor, if you’re willing.”
“I don’t understand, Uncle Simon.”
“Mr. Jacobson is not a poor homesteader of a struggling rancher trying to get by. He has one of the largest ranches in the county. He employs quite a few men. Before the railroad reached Jubilee Springs, in spring and autumn he used to take a caravan of wagons into Denver to purchase supplies for the ranch, everything from food, to tools, to clothing, to building and fence materials. Now that the railroad is here, I can order these things up for him
if he chooses to order through me rather than deal with the stores in Denver. If he is favorably impressed with your ability and he feels confident this store can handle a big order, you could help him decide to give us a chance for more of his business. Consider what you are doing as good public relations.”
Bessie tipped her head as she considered his words. “Honestly, Uncle Simon? Do you think me spending time with Mr. Jacobson will help your business?”
“Yes.”
“But is he married? Even if going to dinner with him would help the mercantile, it would not be proper for me to be seen in a public place alone with a married man.”
Simon slowly shook his head. “No, Bessie. He’s not married. He’s of an age he should be, but he’s devoted all his time and energy the last decade or more to building his ranch. There is nothing improper about you being seen in the middle of the day having your noon meal in a public place with him.”
“If you’re sure it will help with the store, I’ll do it.”
Simon had to force himself to not laugh with satisfaction. “Let’s go out and put the man out of his misery. Your Aunt Desi and I will put together his order so it’s ready when the two of you return, so don’t try to rush back. Just take your time and enjoy his company.”
Once the pair returned to the front of the store, Bessie smiled at Zeb. “Please let me go upstairs long enough to get my hat and gloves, Mr. Jacobson, and then I’ll be ready to leave.”
Zeb quietly released the breath he had been holding. “If you’d like, Miss Carlson, I can run right quick to the livery and get a buggy for us. It will help you stay out of the sun.”
Bessie shook her head. “No need, Mr. Jacobson. It’s not all that warm and I’m used to walking. The River Valley Inn is just around on the other side of the block.”
