by Kit Morgan
Hmmm, was that why he was so nervous? He wished there’d been more time to send letters back and forth, but Mrs. Pettigrew the matchmaker insisted on train fare right away. Miss Minx had accepted his proposal and was anxious to wed. Who knew how long he’d have had to wait for another mail-order bride to come along? In the meantime, what if Mayor Hardt came to the conclusion he had enough investors in the mine and he missed out on the opportunity? He took Miss Minx and that was that. Great Scott, did she have all her teeth?
He reached the Golden Nugget, adjusted his hat, went inside and ran smack into Rev. Hammond. “Excuse me, Reverend. I didn’t see you there.”
The reverend stepped back. “Yes, I guess it’s hard to see someone standing right in front of you,” he teased. “I do hate it when that happens.”
Elwood sheepishly grinned. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“I’d say you were a lot of nervous. There’s no reason to be. You ready to get married?”
“You mean you want to marry us now?” Elwood squeaked.
“No time like the present,” the preacher said with a happy smile.
“But I haven’t even met the woman!”
“I have, and I must say, she’s lovely. You’ll be very pleased, Mr. Hunter.”
“Elwood – call me Elwood.” His eyes drifted to the staircase. Pretty? He did say “pretty,” didn’t he? No, “lovely” – that was the word.
“Very well, Elwood – you’ve been here long enough. How goes the bookshop?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. More books are coming in every day – I’m storing them at Peregrines’. Most of the shelving should go up in the next few days, then I can start moving them in.”
“Fine, fine,” Rev. Hammond said. “Let me know if I can help. In the meantime, let me introduce you to your bride.”
Elwood tugged at his shirt collar. “Probably a good idea.” He followed Rev. Hammond upstairs to the guest rooms. Seamus was still putting on a few finishing touches, though he’d also found time to help Elwood with building the bookshop and had given him some good suggestions besides. The Golden Nugget looked great, and he wondered if he should rent a room for the wedding night.
Egad, his wedding night! He hadn’t thought about it much. Truth was, he’d tried not to. How could he do that with a perfect stranger? He wanted to get to know his bride first – what were her likes, her dislikes? What did she eat for breakfast? Her thoughts on President Hayes’ election? Did she read? Did she mind if he snored? What about if he belched now and then? He had a delicate stomach and couldn’t help it sometimes. But he knew nothing about her, and she nothing about him.
Before he could wonder anything else, Rev. Hammond stopped in front of room 4 and knocked. The door opened … “Rev. Hammond?”
“Oh my,” Elwood sighed. The reverend hadn’t been exaggerating – she was lovely. She had a willowy build, with dark hair and green eyes, a heart-shaped face and a voice soft as silk.
“Hello again,” Rev. Hammond said. “I’ve brought you something.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
She looked past him. “Mr. Hunter?”
Elwood nodded, his eyes glued to hers. “At your service, milady.” He wanted to smack himself. Milady – where did that come from? Well, he had been reading the Arthurian legends of late. But this woman was surely no Guinevere – by all appearances, she was pure as the first-fallen snow.
“May we come in?” Rev. Hammond asked.
“Certainly.” She stepped aside.
Elwood followed the reverend inside and noticed a couple of satchels on the bed. One looked empty, the other still full. The thought of getting a room for a night began to look more practical – in fact, maybe they should stay at the hotel until the back wall was finished. June nights were still cold up here in the mountains. Though he could keep her warm …
She was studying him. “Mr. Hunter.”
“Yes, that’s me,” he whispered, then shook himself and cleared his throat. “Elwood Hunter at your service,” he added, stronger this time. He took her hand, bent at the waist and kissed it. Oh for Heaven’s sake, what was he doing? That romantic literature had gone to his head.
She flushed pink. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“And you.” He stared at her, wanting to study every inch, but thought it would be rude. He had a sudden memory of the first time he met Gertrude Van Housen when they were children – she looked at everyone like they were a horse she might want to buy. Still did.
“Would you like to sit?” she asked.
Rev. Hammond pulled the chair away from the desk, sat and motioned to the bed with both hands. “Let’s discuss your wedding, shall we?”
Elwood nodded and sat at one end of the bed, with Miss Minx perching warily at the other. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, left up to me, I’d marry the two of you this evening. Unless you’d like to take a little time to get to know one another – then I’d be happy to chaperone, as would my wife. What say you?”
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Elwood quickly agreed. He turned to his future bride. “What do you think?”
She looked at him like a frightened doe. “Oh, um … yes. That would be fine.”
Elwood’s brow furrowed. She was frightened – he could see it in her eyes. But of what?
Dorcas kept looking at Elwood Hunter and nodding. What was she doing? She was putting this man in danger. Granted, Vernon might have shrugged off her disappearance, chalked it up to bad luck and found another skirt to chase. But how would she know? If she wrote her parents, they’d know where she was, tell Vernon, and …
“Is that all right?” Mr. Hunter asked.
“Yes, yes.” She blinked a few times. “Sorry – woolgathering.”
“I can see that,” he said with a warm smile and turned to Rev. Hammond. “I think it’s best if Miss Minx stays here at the hotel for a few days. Back of my shop isn’t quite done – I don’t want her to catch cold.”
That got her attention. “Why would I catch cold?”
He looked sheepish. “The back of the building doesn’t have a finished wall yet. Our living quarters are there, and …”
“I understand,” she cut in. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
His smile faded. “Of course I would think of you.”
Dorcas opened her mouth to speak, but was thankfully interrupted by Rev. Hammond. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s set a date. How long would you like to spend getting to know one another?” He looked at each of them, a smile on his face.
“Thank you, Reverend,” Dorcas said. “That’s most kind of you. What do you think, Mr. Hunter?”
“Call me Elwood, please. Now let’s see, today is Tuesday … how does next Tuesday sound?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Rev. Hammond turned to Dorcas. “You?”
“Yes, fine,” she nodded. “Mr. Hunter and I will have a week to court.” And I get a whole week to get up the nerve to tell him about Vernon. Hopefully Mr. H … Elwood will still want to get married after that.
Mr. Hunter raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Being in accord with one another is very important in a marriage,” Rev. Hammond said. “Everyone should take a few days to get to know one another, share a few meals, take some walks. And there’s no better way to get to know a person than by working alongside them – on a project.”
“Project?” Dorcas said. “What sort of project?”
“I’m glad you asked,” the reverend said with a happy smile. “My wife’s heading up one of several committees for the big Fourth of July celebration, and the railroad’s finally coming to Noelle around the end of the month. There’s a breakfast meeting tomorrow here at the Nugget to discuss both.” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “In fact, I’d best get going – I need to meet with Mayor Hardt and Mr. Hawkinson of the railroad about a few things. Why don’t the two of you go downstairs and, I don’t know, share a glass of milk?”
Mr. Hunter blushed – Dorcas had no idea why. “I think I need something stronger,” she said.
Mr. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Oh – I meant coffee,” she corrected.
“Yes, of course.” He jumped to his feet. “Anything you need. I know you’ve had a long journey. Would you rather rest?”
“No. There are … some things we need to discuss.” Oh heavens, did she just say that? Did she really want to tell him about Vernon right now? But what did it matter – she had to tell him at some point. Which reminded her … “Rev. Hammond, do you know a Daphne Doolittle?”
“Daphne? You mean Daphne Brooks?”
“Oh yes, I suppose that’s her name now. She’s a friend of mine.”
“Of course I know her – I married them. She and Mr. Brooks are in San Francisco.”
Dorcas’ heart sank. Daphne was gone? “Oh … I’d very much like to have her at my wedding. Do you know when they’ll be back?” If only she could speak to Daphne about her situation. Maybe she’d advise her not to say anything to Mr. Hunter. But if their situations were reversed, is that what she’d tell Daphne? Probably not.
“Well, they are due to head back any day. They wanted to be here for the celebration.”
“Thank Heaven,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping with relief.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Hunter said, concerned.
“Nothing.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you sure you don’t need to rest?” His voice was gentle, a soothing balm to her raw nerves.
“Thank you, no, I’ll be fine. I just need some coffee.”
“Then let’s go downstairs.” He motioned toward the door.
Dorcas stood and followed the men down into the bar. “Seamus, three coffees please,” Rev. Hammond said, then turned to them. “I could do with a cup as well – I’ll take it to my meeting.”
Dorcas had to smile at the reverend’s casual demeanor. He reminded her of a journalist she knew in Denver named Reese Wellington, who wrote the most fantastic stories. And speaking of stories … “Mr. Hunter, you own a bookshop?”
“Yes – I mentioned that in my letter, didn’t I?” He motioned to a table. “Sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Dorcas sat and willed herself to be calm. Otherwise she’d wring her hands or twist her hair, both nervous habits. She didn’t want him to think anything was wrong, nor blurt out what was wrong. Surely the best course of action would be to keep silent for now, until she talked with Daphne. Daphne had always advised her wisely.
“I built it across the street from the future church, next to a bakery and sweet shop,” Mr. Hunter went on with a grin. “Too bad I couldn’t have put it next to the sheriff’s office. Wait until you meet Sheriff Draven – now there’s an interesting character for you.”
“Oh?” she said, shoving thoughts of Vernon aside.
“Yes indeed. He’s had quite the illustrious career, you know.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t.”
“Well, I’ll have to tell you all about it. But you did ask me about the bookshop, so I’ll start there. I have quite the library and personal collection. I’ve always thought of opening a shop, but I was always stuck working in my father’s shipping business back in Boston.”
She smiled shyly. He was boyishly handsome, tall and solidly built. He had the most mesmerizing blue eyes, and she liked the way his golden hair curled slightly at the ends. All in all, now that she took a moment to really study him, she liked what she saw. “Boston?”
“Born and raised. I did put that in my letter, didn’t I?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, I must be more tired than I thought.”
He nodded in sympathy. “Shipping wasn’t for me, so I … left town.” He shifted in his chair and looked at the back of the saloon, probably wondering where Seamus was with their coffee.
“How big is it?” she asked. “Your shop, I mean.”
“Well, the building is twenty feet wide and fifty deep – half of that is the shop proper. I spared no expense. The rest of my money … well, we’ll talk about that later. Do you like to read?”
What was that about his money? Oh well, he’d tell her soon enough. “Yes, I love books.”
“You do?” he said, eyes bright. “That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to show you my collection.”
“Are you planning on selling it off?”
He looked horrified. “Great Scott, no. I’m selling the ones I’ve read and don’t wish to keep. As the business grows, of course, I’ll get new inventory.”
Dorcas did the math – half of twenty by fifty … “Five hundred square feet?” she asked, wide-eyed. Just how many books did this man possess?
“Oh, but that’s small in the scheme of things. And we have an equal space in the back to serve as our living quarters.” He gave her an apologetic look. “It’s only to start, mind you – Jack Peregrine and I constructed it so we could add a second story later on. Eventually our living quarters will be over the shop. I didn’t have the money to do everything I wanted, and, you might as well know …” He took a deep breath, held it as if to brace himself, exhaled. “I needed to get married so I could invest in the silver mine.” Still as a statue, he stared at her.
Dorcas stared back. “You … what?”
“It’s true,” he said, abashed. “I wanted to invest in the silver mine, and one of the requirements is you have to be married. So now you know. I’m not ashamed of it, and don’t you dare think you’re only a means to an end. I wanted a wife.”
Her heart raced and she lowered the hand she’d placed over her chest, not sure when she’d put it there. “So you sent for a mail-order bride?”
“At Rev. Hammond’s suggestion, yes.” He bit his lower lip and looked away. “There are no eligible women in the area save for some soiled doves, and … and I did what I had to do to secure an investment in the mine.” When he looked at her again, his face was full of determination. “I did want a wife as well – this just wasn’t how I pictured getting one.”
Her hands were at her chest again. This time she took a deep breath and blew it out. “I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled. “Say you’ll still marry me?”
Before she could answer, Seamus approached with their coffee. “Here ye are. Cream, sugar? I’m afraid I left them in the kitchen.”
“Please and thank you, Seamus,” Mr. Hunter said. “Does Norah have any cookies back there?”
“She surely does. She just started her afternoon baking.”
Mr. Hunter gave his belly a pat. “If I don’t stop eating Norah’s cooking, I will get fat.”
Seamus grinned. “Aye, that’s me Norah. She does like to feed a man and around here she has plenty of chances.”
Dorcas smiled as Seamus headed back toward what had to be the kitchen. She stared at her cup but didn’t pick it up.
“Waiting for the cream and sugar?” Mr. Hunter asked.
She nodded, unsure what to say. She didn’t want to leave their conversation unfinished, but couldn’t help feeling a little put out. Her mind began to run in multiple directions and she couldn’t pick a thought to hold on to. He’d just confessed his reason for sending off for a mail-order bride. But at this point, did it matter? At least he was honest and forthright. Was she willing to be the same?
Chapter 5
“Miss Minx?”
Dorcas jumped. “Oh, terribly sorry – woolgathering again. I do it a lot, I’m afraid.” It was as good an excuse as any. His honesty made her feel guilty.
Still, she didn’t want Vernon to come between them. She liked what she saw in Elwood Hunter and genuinely wanted to get to know him better. Before Elwood and Rev. Hammond knocked on her door, she was considering fleeing Noelle and going into hiding. But then she’d have no protection, no means of supporting herself. Marrying Elwood would alleviate those problems. And he was a very likable fellow besides – perhaps he’d turn out to be a good husband.
>
“Cream and sugar, as ordered,” Seamus announced, setting them on the table. “The cookies will be out of the oven in a minute or two.”
“Thank you, Seamus,” Elwood said with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. He looked at Dorcas. “You’ll love Norah’s cookies. A fine baker and a wonderful cook … not to say that you aren’t. Er, are you?”
She couldn’t help but smile. He was a grown man with a boyish innocence she found attractive. “I’m a fair cook, if that answers your question. But I haven’t tasted Norah’s cooking, so I don’t know how mine compares.”
His eyebrows lowered as he thought about her answer. “A smart man would keep his mouth closed at this point. But sometimes I’m not that smart.” He waved at the kitchen. “I wouldn’t mind if you happen to swipe Norah’s stew recipe.”
Dorcas laughed. “I’ll remember to ask her for it.”
He theatrically sighed in relief and wiped his brow. “Thank the stars I survived that.”
“So it seems.” She reached for the cream pitcher, poured some into her coffee, added a spoonful of sugar and gave it a stir. “Tell me more about your shop, Mr. Hunter.”
“Elwood,” he corrected. “As soon as the shelves are up we can start hauling the books over, maybe as early as tomorrow. Would you care to help?”
“Carry books? I’d love to.”
He chuckled. “No, not with the hauling, but the organizing. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Would you like to see it?”
She took a sip of her coffee, his concern for her welfare warming her. “After our coffee, yes.” The hot liquid burned her throat, but she was much more interested in the man sitting across the table. Still, she shouldn’t get too interested until after she talked to Daphne, and that talk would have to wait. For now, she needed to relax long enough to get to know him better. After all, he was going to be her husband.
“I put in the stove two days ago,” he continued proudly. “And we have a small table, with four chairs.”
The excitement in his voice was hard to miss. Dorcas smiled. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yes, ma’am. As soon as I got into town I began to execute my plans.”
