by Kit Morgan
Elwood laughed. “If there were someone around here for me to marry.”
“That’s not what I meant,” the reverend said with a smile. “Around here we deal in mail-order brides.”
“Mail-order brides?” Elwood said with some surprise. Not that it was news – Mayor Hardt had suggested that if Elwood got a mail-order bride and settled in Noelle, he could invest in the mine. He was especially eager when he found out Elwood had a bit of money, but then, what mine owner wouldn’t be?
“What’s the matter, son?” Rev. Hammond asked. “Don’t you want to get married?”
“Of course I do. But not to a perfect stranger.”
“Lots of men around here have and are happy as larks. Ask a few if you’d like.”
“No, I’ve seen it with my own eyes - the storekeeper at Cobb’s Penn, the blacksmith at the livery, the couple that runs the post and freight. And of course Mayor Hardt. But … maybe they were lucky. What if I’m not?”
“It’s not a matter of luck, son, but attitude. If you expect bad to come out of a marriage, then that’s what you’ll get. But if you expect good, work to make it good, that’s what you’ll get. I inadvertently got myself a mail-order bride – she was supposed to be someone else’s, but that’s another story.”
“You did?” Elwood asked with interest.
“Yes, and I couldn’t be happier. My wife’s a fine woman, a perfect match for me. Things … tend to work out for folks around here. If you really want to invest in the mine, then I’ll help with the proper arraignments. Women don’t show up here out of the blue.”
“No, I suppose they don’t.” Elwood drank the rest of his milk, set the glass down hard and motioned to Seamus. “Another.”
The barkeep was quick to fetch his glass, refill it and return to the table. “That’s the fourth one you’ve had, Mr. Hunter. Isn’t four enough?”
“Can never have enough milk,” Elwood stated. “Especially when you’ve got problems.”
“Let him drink, Seamus,” the reverend said. “Can’t you see he needs it?”
“Well, aye, but I hope there’s enough left for supper tonight,” Seamus returned to the bar.
Rev. Hammond leaned forward. “Son, I’ve got connections. We can get you a bride in no time.”
Elwood shook his head and picked up his glass. “I just can’t see myself getting married right now. But investing in the mine is the only way I can make it here long-term. After speaking with some of the townsfolk, they make this place sound wonderful. And I like what I’ve seen so far.”
“Then by all means, stay,” Rev. Hammond said with a smile. “Get yourself a wife, invest in the mine. You won’t regret it.”
Elwood noted the clergyman’s heartfelt expression. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
“Son, there’s no place like it on Earth.”
“I can believe that,” he said with a chuckle. “Tell me, Reverend, how well do you know Sheriff Draven?”
“Draven?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Well enough. Why?”
“Well …” Elwood glanced around, then leaned toward him. “I’m writing a book, see, and I’d very much like to interview the sheriff. I want to create a character like him, and the best way to do that is to sit down and speak with him awhile.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Of course, but he’s not keen on the idea. At least not yet.”
The reverend smiled. “That sounds like Draven. He’s very private, but a good soul with a good heart. Oh, he’s rough to look at, I know, but …”
“That’s part of why I want to create a character after him. He’s perfect.”
“So you’re a writer?”
Elwood sat up proudly. “Yes. I am.” He gulped his milk down and set the glass on the table. “And I’m opening a bookshop.”
“A bookshop? Why, that’s wonderful – just what this town needs. I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Thank you. Reverend – that’s mighty kind of you.” Elwood smiled. Maybe things were looking up. He motioned to Seamus. “Another!”
Seamus placed his hands on his hips. “See here, lad, I can’t give ye any more. Ye don’t know my wife. If I let ye drink all the milk, someone’s going to pay for it, and I don’t mean money.”
Rev. Hammond laughed. “Don’t worry, Seamus, I’m sure we can get more.”
“From whose cow?” he shot back.
Elwood waved at the barkeep. “Have it your way. Bring me some coffee.”
Seamus nodded and headed for the back.
Rev. Hammond watched him go, then turned back to Elwood. “How about I set something up with Sheriff Draven?”
“Would you?” Elwood said, eyes bright. “That would be wonderful.”
“My pleasure. Now tell me, where are you planning to put this bookshop of yours?”
Elwood glanced around again. “There’s an empty lot right across the street from where the church is being built. I thought I’d build it there.”
“Build?” Rev. Hammond said in surprise. “You must have a lot of money, then.”
“Some,” Elwood confirmed. “I don’t want to use it all up, just enough to build something with small living quarters in the back. I know some townspeople would buy books from me, but I don’t know if there are enough to make a living at it. I’d have to supplement, preferably with my novels.”
Rev Hammond nodded. “And your investment in the mine.”
“Perhaps. I like the thought of making it on my own.”
Rev. Hammond shook his head. “Son, I don’t know how much money you’ve got, but if you want to make it here for the long haul, you’ll need a wife. Thankfully we have the railroad coming in July. We’re planning a big celebration for it – you could be a part of that. But it’ll take a while before more folks move here. It could be years before your bookshop is able to support you. Do you have enough to get you through?”
“Probably not. I keep running the numbers, and …” Elwood shook his head. “There’s my dilemma.”
Rev. Hammond slapped the table, making Elwood jump. “Then let me help you. I know we can get you a fine wife. You’ll want one anyway if you’re settling here.”
The preacher had a point. He would want one, so why not now? At least it wasn’t Gertrude Van Housen. Not that she’d have anything to do with him at this point – he could just imagine the tantrum she threw when she found out he was gone. He hoped she didn’t entertain thoughts of finding him. Sure, everyone would be upset he’d hightailed it out of Boston, but who could blame him? For Heaven’s sake, even her brothers couldn’t stand her most of the time! “All right, Reverend, I’ll do it. Find me a wife.”
“That’s the spirit, son!” The reverend offered his hand again. “You won’t regret this.”
Elwood shook it, smiled and thought, I hope I don’t.
Two months later …
Dorcas let Mr. Burnside help her down from the stage. “Thank you,” she said with a smile, though her stomach was in knots.
“Yer welcome, ma’am. The hotel’s across the street.” He tossed his head at it.
Dorcas turned to look. “I’m sorry, but all I see is a saloon.”
“Oh, don’t mind that,” Mr. Burnside said. “Seamus ain’t got a new one yet. But when he does, it’ll say the Golden Nugget Hotel and Saloon.”
“Ah, I understand. Thank you for clarifying. I’d hate to think I was staying in a saloon.”
“No, ma’am. Can I carry yer bags?”
“Yes, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder. She’d done a terrible thing, a terrible, awful, horrible thing. She’d left Denver the night before her wedding.
But she had to! If Vernon got his hands on her, he’d do something she was sure to regret. Wasn’t running better than a lifetime of unspeakable horrors at that man’s hands? She’d never be happily married to the likes of Vernon Fink. Let her parents (not to mention the Finks) fret for a few weeks. They’d get over it.
Vernon, on th
e other hand, might not. She hoped she covered her tracks well enough – she’d made sure to swear Mrs. Pettigrew the matchmaker to secrecy. Lucky for her, the eccentric widow happened to have an applicant when Dorcas went to see her. Better yet, it was in Noelle, which meant Daphne, her best friend who’d been sent to Noelle months before as a mail-order bride, would be there for her in her time of need.
She followed Mr. Burnside across the street and into the hotel. “Seamus!” he called to the barkeep. “This here’s Miss Minx. She’s here to get hitched.” A few miners looked their way, smiled, then went back to their drinks or their cards, or both.
“Good afternoon, lass,” the barkeep said with a smile. He came out from behind the bar, walked past a staircase, and went behind a counter on the other side of it. “Norah!” he called over his shoulder.
A woman appeared, looked at her and smiled as well. “You must be the future Mrs. Hunter.”
Dorcas swallowed hard. News traveled fast in small towns. She didn’t wonder if the entire population would attend her wedding. “Yes, I am.”
“Happy to have ye. I’ll take ye to yer room.” Norah came around the counter and gave Dorcas’ arm a pat. “Is this everything?”
Dorcas glanced at the bags Mr. Burnside carried. “Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder again. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Vernon was lurking behind a corner somewhere, waiting to pounce.
“Aye, of course – follow me.” Norah went to the stairs, waited for Mr. Burnside and Dorcas to catch up and started her ascent. They reached the second-floor landing, went down a hall past several doors and stopped. “Number 4. If yer betrothed hadn’t got his little shop built, you’d be right next door to him. He was staying in number 5.”
“He was?” Dorcas said weakly, checking behind her once more.
“Are ya expectin’ someone, ma’am?” Mr. Burnside asked as he looked toward the staircase.
“Oh, don’t mind me. Just … looking around.”
“Aye, the place isn’t how we want it just yet,” Norah said. “But we’ll have it done by the celebration.” She put the key in the lock and opened the door.
“Celebration?” Dorcas followed her inside.
“The big Fourth of July celebration – we’re all looking forward to it.”
Mr. Burnside set her bags down. “And the railroad’ll finally be here at the end of July.” He tipped his hat. “Hope you and Mr. Hunter have time to help with the preparations.”
“Mr. Hunter,” Dorcas whispered. “I almost forgot about him.”
“Forgot?” Norah said in surprise. “How could ye – ye’re here to marry him, aren’t ye?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said weakly. “Forgive me, I’m very tired.”
“Denver is a long ride,” Mr. Burnside commented. “And it’s warm out. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound …”
“Oh, think nothing of it,” Dorcas said. “It’s far but not so far.” Not so far that Vernon couldn’t find her …
Norah shrugged and handed her the key. “Supper’s at six. I like everyone to be prompt. The washstand’s over there, desk in the corner, bed and dresser. That should do ye until ye’re married. When is the wedding?”
Dorcas blanched. “We … haven’t set a date yet. Come to think of it, where is Mr. Hunter?”
“Oh, I meant to mention,” Mr. Burnside said. “He woulda come with me to Junction, ma’am, but he had some things he wanted to get ready before you arrived.”
“What other things?” Dorcas asked.
Mr. Burnside blushed. “I don’t wanna say too much, ma’am. I think it’s a surprise.”
“Oh,” Dorcas replied. “Well, then let’s not spoil it.”
“Aye, let’s not.” Norah winked at Mr. Burnside.
Hmmm, just what sort of surprise was her future husband planning?
Dorcas saw them out, closed the door and sighed heavily as she turned and sank to the floor, her face in her hands. “Oh Lord, what have I done?” It was only a matter of time before Vernon set out after her. The question was, would he find her?
Finally she struggled to her feet, picked up her bags and set them on the bed. Should she unpack? What if she had to leave in a hurry? Oh heavens, had she made a mistake? Maybe she should’ve given marriage to Vernon a try … no! How could she submit to such … such …
There was a sudden knock on the door, and she yelped.
“Miss Minx?” Norah called. “Are you all right?”
Dorcas sighed in relief and opened it. “Yes, of course. Your knock startled me, that’s all.”
Norah nodded and came in, a glass of water in hand. “What kind of hostess am I if I don’t offer ye something cold to drink? I wasn’t sure what ye’d want, so let’s start with this.”
“Thank you.” Dorcas took the glass and had a healthy sip. “Thank you so much.”
“I can make ye lemonade. Seamus got some lemons in – he ordered them special.”
“Lemonade,” Dorcas said with a heartfelt sigh. “Yes, please.”
“Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Norah hurried out.
Dorcas sat on the bed and drank her water. She had to calm down. There was no way Vernon could find her – she’d left no notes behind, no correspondence of any kind, nothing to give him a clue of where she might’ve gone or that she’d become a mail-order bride. Adelia Pettigrew’s confidence was sound. For all anyone knew, she got the wedding jitters and left town to stay with a relative.
In fact, her first idea had been to run to Daphne for help – the “mad matchmaker” had just been a means to that end. But Mrs. Pettigrew, after hearing her situation, reasoned that going to Noelle to find Daphne wasn’t enough. She’d need the protection of a husband – and she just happened to have one in Noelle handy. What luck! Dorcas took the opportunity, wrote a quick note to the applicant, received train fare and grabbed a seat the night before her wedding to Vernon.
Regardless of any other difficulty, anything was better than marrying Vernon Fink. She hoped her parents would come to realize it too one day.
With another sigh Dorcas opened one of her bags and pulled out the first thing she saw: her Bible. “Looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.” She hugged it to her chest a moment, lay back on the bed and began to read from the Psalms.
Chapter 4
Elwood reached for another stack of books. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, Jack.”
“Think nothing of it,” Jack Peregrine told him, picking up another pile. He carried it to Elwood and set it next to the growing stacks. “You sure do have a lot of books.”
“They’re a longtime hobby of mine. And I am opening a bookshop.”
Jack laughed. “Good point. Hey, this one looks interesting.” He held up a book on carpentry.
“Oh, indeed it is. Carpentry fascinates me. I wish I was as talented at it as you are.”
“You can be talented at anything with practice,” Jack said as he leafed through the book. “All depends on how bad you want it.”
Elwood crossed the large room and reached for another pile. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving these here for a time.”
“Not at all. Now that your bride’s arrived, you’d best go fetch her and see about your wedding.”
Elwood pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “You’re right – not to mention prepare to apologize. I should have gone to Junction with Woody Burnside to pick her up.”
“Don’t worry,” Jack consoled. “She’ll understand. Especially when she finds out how busy you’ve been getting the place ready for her.”
“But it’s still not done.”
“She’ll be fine with that. Besides, summer’s coming on. We’ll have that back wall up in no time. The tarps should hold until then.”
“I hope so – Liam Fulton warned me about the summer storms around here.”
“Unfortunately true,” Jack said with a solemn nod. “They can be nasty and cold.” He
slapped Elwood on the shoulder, then fetched another stack of books. For a man with a wooden leg, he moved with a grace Elwood didn’t expect.
“I’ll have to bring the future Mrs. Hunter around and introduce her to your wife,” Elwood said.
“Birdie would love it. She’ll want you both over for supper. Oh, and could you set that carpentry book aside for me? I’d like the honor of being your first customer.”
Elwood smiled. “Then there’s no sense taking it to the shop, is there?”
Jack laughed. “I suppose not. Leave it then and I’ll get your money. How much do you want for it?”
“Let’s not worry about that now.” Elwood slipped into his jacket and gave both sleeves a tug. “How do I look?”
“Nervous. Take a few deep breaths – you look ready to bust a gut.”
Elwood ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I am nervous. I never thought I’d be this nervous.”
“She is a perfect stranger,” Jack pointed out. “I was nervous when I met Birdie.”
“Thanks, Jack, that’s some comfort. Knowing all the married men in town got themselves mail-order brides and made things work is encouraging.”
Jack smiled and bit his lower lip. “Not every married man got a mail-order bride. Sheriff Draven, for example.”
“Draven?” Elwood said, his eyes lit up. “What happened?”
“Never mind about that now – you need to get going.” Jack gave him a friendly shove toward the door.
“Promise you’ll tell me later?”
“I promise. Now get.”
Elwood put on his hat. “Wish me luck.”
Jack laughed. “Stop it, will you? You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Elwood muttered under his breath. He left Peregrines’ Post & Freight, the family business Jack shared with his brother Max, who ran their Denver office, and his Grandpa Gus. Maybe in time, he’d have a family business too. He began his march to the Golden Nugget. “All right, you can do this,” he said to himself. “No need to be nervous. So what if she’s a perfect stranger and you haven’t got a clue what she looks like?”
