by Kit Morgan
“When you see Daphne, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it. Genevieve Kinnison is in charge of that. Her ideas are très fantastique. We hope to bring more women to Noelle, not to mention families. Once the railroad arrives, this town will really start to grow.”
“I can see that,” Dorcas said as she surveyed the buildings around them.
“Let me show you Cobb’s Penn, our mercantile.” Birdie led her back the way they’d come.
Cobb’s Penn was fairly good-sized, but nothing like her father’s stores. They were immediately greeted by a pretty dark-haired woman behind the front counter. “Good morning, Birdie,” she said, then looked at Dorcas. “Hello.”
“Good morning,” Dorcas replied.
“Bonjour, Avis,” Birdie said. “This is Mademoiselle Dorcas Minx. She came from Denver to marry Monsieur Hunter, who is opening a bookshop.”
Avis’s eyebrows rose with interest. “You don’t say? Welcome to Noelle, Miss Minx. Anything I can help you with?”
“I’m giving her the grande tournée of our petit village,” Birdie explained.
“And how do you like our little town so far?”
Dorcas studied the shelves, automatically rearranging them in her mind. “I like it fine, thank you.” She took a few steps toward the counter, her eyes on the top shelf behind it. “Just curious – why do you keep the heavier items way up there? Doesn’t that make it difficult for you? What if someone gets hurt?”
“I beg your pardon?” Avis said, turning to look. “Oh, those aren’t heavy. I use those boxes to store spools of string for now. They’re really quite light.”
“Oh, I see. I know those large blue boxes often contain canned goods, or small heavy implements. My father owns dry goods stores.”
Avis studied her a moment before her eyes flicked to Birdie. “I see. Thank you for your concern.”
Dorcas went to a display of ribbons, hair brushes and other fripperies. “These are pretty.”
“Yes, we just got those in from Denver,” Avis said with pride.
“There’s a manufacturer out of Massachusetts that makes lovely ribbon,” Dorcas mused. “You should try ordering from them.”
“That wouldn’t be Coleman’s Beau Petite Ribbon and Twine, would it?” Avis asked.
“Yes, it would,” Dorcas said with a smile.
“Oh, they’re too expensive for us. People here don’t have that kind of money. These ribbons are sturdy, just the sort they need.”
“Ah.” Dorcas put the ribbon down and went to another display, this one of women’s stockings. “And are you getting these from Burdock’s?”
Avis exchanged a quick, irritated look with Birdie. “If you’re referring to Burdock’s in New York, again, too pricey.”
“I see,” Dorcas forced a smile. She wasn’t making a very good impression. “What about …?”
Avis sighed. “Miss Minx, around here we serve miners, ranchers and laborers. Noelle isn’t anything like Denver.”
Dorcas realized her mouth was hanging open, snapped it shut and nodded. “Sorry. I … should have realized there would be a difference.”
Avis shrugged. “What sells well in the city might not out here.”
“She didn’t mean anything by it, Avis,” Birdie said. “All newcomers, us included, needed time to learn Noelle’s endearing peculiarities.”
“I know,” Avis said. “But I also know that Cobb’s Penn meets the needs of everyone here just fine.”
“Avis,” Dorcas said, hoping it was all right to use the woman’s first name. “I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean …”
“As I said,” Avis cut in, “you’re not from around here. Did you live in Denver all your life?”
“Since I was a baby.” Dorcas frowned. She was naïve, that was all there was to it.
“That explains it, then,” Avis said with a hint of resentment. Clearly she didn’t like a stranger telling her how to do her job.
Birdie moved to pour oil on the troubled waters. “Did you know that Mademoiselle Dorcas is good friends with Daphne Brooks?”
“Is she?” Avis said. “I imagine you’re disappointed she isn’t here.”
“I was, but I hear she’s returning any day now,” Dorcas said, still embarrassed.
“I’ve heard that too. When are you getting married?”
“Next Tuesday, if all goes well.”
“I hope you’ll be very happy,” Avis replied.
Dorcas saw the look on her face was genuine. Apparently she wasn’t going to hold her earlier foolishness against her. “Thank you.”
“Splendide,” Birdie said with a note of forced cheerfulness. “Next we shall visit Nacho’s establishment.”
“Nacho’s?” Dorcas said.
“The only restaurant in town. We can have a cup of coffee if you like before I return you to Elwood’s shop.”
Dorcas smiled at Avis and said, “That would be fine.” A cup of coffee would probably do her good. Maybe by the time she finished it, she wouldn’t feel like such a cretin.
By the time Dorcas and Birdie reached Elwood’s shop, Dorcas had come to realize just how naïve she was. Avis was right – having grown up in Denver, a small but rapidly growing city, and in a well-off family, she had no idea how people lived elsewhere. How would she know that Noelle would have different needs than Denver, or how the local mercantile met those needs? She’d have to educate herself on how people here thought, worked and lived. Noelle was an isolated town (at least until the railroad came), where people had to depend on one another.
“Voilà! Here we are,” Birdie said. “I hope Avis wasn’t too rough on you. She tends to be … pointed.”
“It’s all right,” Dorcas insisted. “She made me realize a few things.”
“Many of us are from different parts of the country, or even different nations.” Birdie said as she studied the building. “I was born in Quebec and have only recently grown comfortable sharing my heritage.” She took Dorcas by the hand. “We all felt a little out of place when we arrived. Don’t feel bad if you do too.”
“Thank you, Birdie. I do feel out of place.”
“Don’t worry – once you and Elwood marry, you’ll be too busy helping your husband to worry about anything else. Now I’d better get back to my sewing. We’ll talk again soon. Au revoir pour le moment.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
Birdie smiled, waved and was off. Dorcas watched her go, then went into the shop.
Inside, men worked to put the shelving up. Elwood joined her and grinned, taking her hands in his. “There you are. Did you have a nice time with Birdie?”
“Yes, I did.” She glanced around before looking at the floor, Avis’ admonishments still on her mind.
“Dorcas.” He tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. “What’s the matter, dear?”
Her heart fluttered with the thought that he could read her so well. “Well, I met the proprietress of Cobb’s Penn and … made an awful fool of myself, I’m afraid.” She sighed.
His brow knitting, he glanced around, took her by the hand and led her toward the back of the building. As soon as they reached the living quarters, he motioned her to sit. “Tell me what happened.”
Dorcas sat in the chair offered. “I told you my father owns dry goods stores in Denver. Well, I saw a few things I thought could be improved upon in Cobb’s Penn and made suggestions – suggestions which turned out to be inappropriate, given that Noelle isn’t Denver. Avis rightfully set me straight …”
Elwood laughed, reached across the table and took her hand. “I imagine so. The mercantile here’s probably nothing like what your father has back in Denver. And of course neither would come close to some of the stores in Boston.” He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles, sending a delightful shiver up her spine.
“Thank you, Elwood, that makes feel better. It’s just that I’ve never left Denver, not since my parents moved there in ’59, when I was just a babe. This is the farthest from home I’
ve ever been.”
“That’s all right, you’ll learn.” He glanced toward the front of the store. “And I have plenty of books for you to learn from.”
She laughed. “Thank you. I suppose I’d better start reading right away.”
His other hand came up and covered hers. “You’ll like it here, trust me. People are friendly, kind and always willing to lend a helping hand.”
Dorcas looked into his eyes and saw that he truly believed everything he said. Good – she could do with more friends. After Daphne left, she was devastated and withdrawn, not giving herself the chance to grow. Good heavens, had she defined herself by her relationship with Daphne all these years? She hoped not, but … she shook her head at the thought.
“Dorcas?”
“I’m simply going to have to remember that I’m not tucked safely away in Denver anymore.”
He gave her hands a squeeze. “No, you’re not. You’re here, safe with me now.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Elwood,” she said as her cheeks grew hot. “That means a lot to me.”
He chuckled and gazed into her eyes. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, Dorcas Minx, you are. Wait a minute, what am I saying? You’re soon to be Dorcas Hunter. And Dorcas Hunter is very beautiful indeed.”
She looked him over. “Well … you’re a very handsome man.”
His ears turned pink. “Thank you,” he said. “Good thing to hear from the woman I’m about to marry.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand again and sighed heavily.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Lot to do.”
“Can I help?”
Elwood’s eyes roamed her face. She suddenly felt warm all over, and more relaxed than she’d been since … well, since Father had told her she’d soon be Dorcas Fink. Dorcas Hunter was a decided improvement.
They left the table and went up front, where Elwood left her by the counter and went to speak with a few workers. She watched him in admiration. Here was a hard-working man willing to leave everything behind, travel to a speck of a town and start a new life. He had courage, lots of it. More than she did.
Dorcas leaned against the counter and sighed. She still hadn’t told him the real reason she was there – that she’d left Denver to escape one marriage by jumping into another. She couldn’t wait for Daphne any longer – she had to get this over with. For Heaven’s sake, at this point she was being ridiculous. Daphne would likely tell her to do it anyway and hang the consequences.
She did want to marry, had wanted to for a long time, but had instinctively waited for Daphne to go first. She’d always dreamed they’d marry about the same time, have children and be neighbors. But this wasn’t a dream world – she had no control over Daphne’s life any more than she did over how Avis ran her store or Elwood wrote his books. But she did have control of herself, which meant she had control of when to tell Elwood about Vernon.
Elwood was back at her side and took her hand. “Got to fetch more books from Jack’s place. Care to help me organize them?”
“I’d love to.” She swallowed hard. “But there’s something I need to speak with you about first.”
“Certainly.” He motioned her toward the back of the building again.
They hadn’t taken two steps when there was a commotion outside. Several men shouted greetings to someone, and the next thing she knew, a familiar frame stood in the doorway. “Oh my goodness – Daphne!” She ran to her friend.
“Dorcas?” Daphne said as they fell into each other’s arms. “Felicity told me you were in town! I can hardly believe it.” She drew back, looked at Dorcas a moment, then at Elwood standing behind her. “Is this your husband?”
“Not yet, but he will be.” The tears started and wouldn’t stop.
Daphne pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Here, please don’t cry or I’ll start.”
“I can’t help it! I have so much to tell you …”
“I see the two of you need to catch up,” Elwood said with a smile. “Dorcas, why don’t you go and have a visit? I can handle the books.”
“Really?” she said before blowing her nose. “My goodness, I don’t know what’s come over me.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. It was warm, gentle, reassuring. “You haven’t seen your friend in a long while. I understand that. At least they’re happy tears.”
Dorcas nodded and took Daphne’s hand. “Thank you, Elwood, for understanding.”
His smile was heartfelt as he waved them on their way. She smiled back, her heart melting. She hoped he still looked at her like that after he found out about Vernon. But that revelation would – once again – have to wait.
Chapter 8
Elwood was on his way to the shop with a wheelbarrow full of books when Sheriff Draven called him over. “Mr. Hunter – a word?”
“Of course,” Elwood said, the wheelbarrow tipping to one side. He righted it and tried to remain calm. Would he finally get his interview with the man? For crying out loud, were his palms sweating? They were, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to his sudden excitement or his labors. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
Draven sauntered up to him, looked at the wheelbarrow and raised a curious eyebrow. “Ya gotta lot of books. How many trips ya made?”
“About a half dozen so far, and, well, I do have a bookshop,” Elwood said with a grin.
“Yeah, ya do. Anyway, ‘bout that interview ya been wantin’ …”
Elwood straightened, his eyes bright. “Yes?”
“… answer’s still no.”
Draven’s words were like a punch to the stomach.
“But I’ll make arrangements for ya to speak with Marshal Charles Gant.”
“Marshal Gant? Hmmm … Jasper was telling me about him.”
“Yeah, he mentioned it. If ya wanna talk to somebody who’s had some real adventures, Gant’s yer man. He’s got stories under his saddle that make me look like a fumblin’ schoolboy.”
“He does?” Elwood said as his heart raced.
“Yep. I’ll send word, and I figger he’ll be more than happy to make a little trip to Noelle. I hear tell he’s been up north, somewhere near Fort Collins.”
“Really?” Elwood said excitedly. “I can’t thank you enough, Sheriff.”
Draven smiled, a rare sight. “Think nothin’ of it. I’ll just mosey back to my office, write a note and have Woody take it to the telegraph office in Junction. I guarantee Marshal Gant will be flattered yer interested in talkin’ with him.”
Elwood grabbed Draven’s hand and shook it. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to hear this. But I’d still like to …”
“Think nothin’ of it, I said,” Draven interrupted, yanking his hand away. “I’ll go take care of that. Ya have a good day.”
“Oh, I will. I most certainly will!” Elwood said to the sheriff’s retreating back. With a grunt, he picked up the wheelbarrow. What luck! If this Charles Gant was as tough as Draven said, he’d be the perfect man to help him create Polecat Pete. And after he spoke with the marshal, maybe the sheriff would change his mind. But right now, he had to get his books unloaded and go back for another several batches. He whistled the rest of the way to the shop. Just wait until he told Dorcas – wouldn’t she be surprised?
Speaking of Dorcas, what had she been about to tell him before her friend showed up? She certainly looked worried about it. He’d give her a nudge when he saw her next.
He reached the shop, unloaded the wheelbarrow and went back for another load. He’d move what books he could today and get the rest tomorrow. Not all the shelves were up, but at least he could start getting his inventory organized. And once he was done with that, he should start working on a list of questions to ask the marshal. Maybe Dorcas could help with that …
He hoped she didn’t forget what she wanted to talk to him about. Maybe she didn’t like the thought of living
in a one-room apartment behind a shop. But he’d told her he planned on adding a second story as soon as his investment in the mine paid sufficient dividends. Though how long would that be? Had Rev. Hammond or his wife said something to her? Come to think of it, did Mayor Hardt mention how long it might take? What about the other investors – were they already drawing a profit?
He’d ask Rev. Hammond about it at supper. He and his wife were directors for the mine, so they would know.
Several loads later, Elwood stopped for a break. He sat on the front steps of his shop and watched the street. Several miners walked by, followed by a man with a really large dog. Where did such a beast come from? He’d seen the man before, but always with a woman, probably his wife, rather than a pet.
“Afternoon, Elwood. Taking a rest?”
Elwood looked up. “Sure am, Jack. Have a seat.”
Jack joined him on the steps. “I see you’ve spotted Bear. I haven’t seen him about much – maybe he has a lady friend. Good. I wouldn’t mind a puppy.”
“Bear – is that what that behemoth’s name is? I’ve never seen that man out with it before.”
“Nice fellow, Hank. Blind, you know.”
“I didn’t know.” Elwood sat straighter to get a better look.
“Yep. He married Miss Jolie of La Maison des Chats, the brothel that burned down a few months ago.”
“La Maison – heard about the place.”
“Miss Jolie was the madam back then. Hank married her, moved his sister here and they own the printing press on the other side of town. They make greeting cards, mostly.”
“Blind man married a soiled dove?”
“He wouldn’t be the first around here.”
“Really?” Elwood asked.
“Of course not. Sheriff Draven married Pearl, who used to work at La Maison. Kindhearted woman.”
Elwood could only stare. He knew Sheriff Draven was married, but didn’t know he’d married a prostitute … well, ex-prostitute now. But now that he thought about it, did it matter? Soiled doves had as much right to marry as anyone, though they probably faced more obstacles in doing so. Maybe Dorcas wasn’t the only one who needed to broaden their point of view.
