“Oh, my, Nutmeg. You are a crazy one.” Maria crossed herself and pulled Meg into a hug. “Who would think that God works in ways this mysterious?”
Meg’s breath whooshed out at her relief. “Oh, thank you, you two. If you think you can say very little, I’d like to introduce you. But remember, Sam and I have been married for two years and we own the mercantile.”
Maria crossed herself again. “I plan to say nothing, little one, but it is very good to see you happy.”
“I’ll be happy when this is all over and his mother returns to New York. Can’t be soon enough for me.”
“You don’t like her?” Rosemary said and squeezed Meg’s hand.
“Oh, she’s wonderful. Truly wonderful. Reminds me very much of Mama. But I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep this up. She’s so happy that we’re married and Sam owns a store, he just doesn’t want to break her heart.”
“I don’t quite understand,” Rosemary said, “but I don’t have to. Not now, anyway. We’ll have lots of time to talk about it later, after she’s gone. Now, let us see if we can help out.”
“Oh, thank you so very much,” Meg said as she grabbed their hands and led them toward Sam and his mother.
Chapter 23
“I would have known you were Meg’s sister without an introduction,” Mrs. Allen said as she held her hand out to Rosemary. “Two true beauties.”
“And there are four more where they came from.” Maria smiled and Meg wiped her brow with her handkerchief thinking that maybe Maria would cooperate after all.
“Goodness, I can’t imagine. I would love to meet them all,” Mrs. Allen said and Meg held her breath at the thought.
Maria cocked an eyebrow at Meg and Meg knew whatever was coming would not be good.
“And I know that Mr. Archer and the family would love to meet you, too, Mrs. Allen. I feel confident that he would agree that we would love for you to join us for dinner one night during your stay.”
Meg took a step back behind Mrs. Allen and held her palms up, shaking her head violently at Maria and Rosemary, who both looked as if they’d love to burst out laughing. Fortunately, they were able to control themselves and Maria said, “Tomorrow night is a good night. Will you join us?”
Mrs. Allen looked to her right where Meg had been, and then looked around further to find Meg standing behind her, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Meg, what are you doing back there? How about it? Is that all right with you and Sam?”
“Is what all right?” Sam said as he waved at the customer he was helping on his way out.
“Maria has invited us to dinner at the ranch tomorrow night,” Meg said, hoping that he would read her mind and say, ‘no’.
“It sounds wonderful, dear, doesn’t it? It’s very gracious of them, and I’ve never been to a ranch before.” Mrs. Allen clasped her hands together at the thought.
“I think it sounds like a fine idea. I’d like to see Hank, after all, and I love the ranch. Thank you, Maria, and thank Mr. Archer for me as well. We’d love to come.”
Meg stared at him, her mouth open, not believing what she’d just heard.
“What’s wrong, Meg? Don’t you miss us?” Rosemary said with a sly smile.
“I…I suppose it would be all right,” she said slowly.
“It will be fine.” Maria winked at her. “I promise I won’t make anything too spicy.”
“Spicy?” Mrs. Allen said, her eyebrows raised. “I’d love to try anything at all. I’m always grateful for anything someone will cook for me, as long as I don’t have to cook for myself.”
“And we appreciate when you don’t cook, Mother,” Sam said, his eyes twinkling.
Mrs. Allen nudged him with her elbow as Maria and Rosemary laughed.
“Are these eggs, and is that milk in the pails?” Mrs. Allen leaned over the basket of eggs.
“Yes, we bring them from the ranch to sell in the mercantile. It used to be Meg’s job.” Rosemary picked up the pails of milk and headed toward the icebox in the corner of the store.
“I’d love to see what you do with that, if you don’t mind,” Mrs. Allen said as she followed behind Maria and Rosemary.
“We’d be happy to show you, and when you come to the ranch I’ll show you how to milk a cow.” Rosemary winked at Meg.
“Oh, this can’t be good,” Meg said when they were out of earshot.
“What do you mean?” Sam looked over at the ladies as they began to place eggs in smaller boxes.
“It’s been difficult for just the two of us not to make mistakes. Imagine adding nine more people into the equation.” She rubbed her forehead, pushing back a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair that had escaped her hair-do and shoving a hairpin back in that threatened to fall out.
Sam ran his fingers over his chin. “I hadn’t thought about that. Think we should back out?”
“It’s too late now. We’d never hear the end of it from Maria. She seems a little put out that she missed all the excitement, and this is her way to make up for it.”
Sam sighed as the ladies returned. “I guess we’ll just need to make the best of it.”
“That was so interesting,” Mrs. Allen said. “I can’t wait to actually gather some myself. Rosemary said she’d show me how.”
“I’m not sure why you even want to know how, but I’m happy to show you,” Rosemary said, laughing as she opened the door. “Meg, I wrote down what we delivered, and you can have Suzanne—um, you can just add it as a credit for the ranch.” Rosemary’s eyebrows shot up at her mistake, and she hurried through the door, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s go, Maria.”
“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Allen, and I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” She smiled and hurried out behind Rosemary, closing the door hard behind her.
“Is Suzanne an employee of yours?” Mrs. Allen asked as she turned back to Sam and Meg.
“Yes, yes she is,” Sam said. “She works here part time.”
Whew, thought Meg as she walked toward the counter, wondering how she and Sam were getting so quick on their feet. She still knew it wouldn’t take much to stumble.
“Well, I’d like to do some shopping now, if you don’t mind, and then I’ll be getting back to the house. I have some things I’d like to do before the show tonight.” Mrs. Allen walked toward the back of the store, to the fabrics and sewing notions.
“I’ll be right there to help you,” Meg called. She rested her head on Sam’s shoulder and felt him stiffen, then relax. “All this is exhausting, don’t you think?”
Sam lifted his hand and then paused. She closed her eyes as he continued, stroking her cheek softly. “Yes, it is. And it’s only been a couple of days. I had no idea what I was asking you to do.”
He lifted his hand quickly as Mrs. Allen said, “Now, now, you two lovebirds. You’ll be alone soon enough.”
Sam squeezed Meg’s hand and bowed his head slightly as he headed back to the cash register. As he stood behind it, he winked at Meg and she headed over to help Mrs. Allen.
It didn’t take long before there was a pile of goods on the counter, waiting for Sam to finish with a customer. He looked through the pile, lifting up a juice squeezer. “You don’t need this. We have one.”
Mrs. Allen took it from his hand and placed it back on the pile. “Well, I don’t have one, and I’ve found it’s something I can actually make. I want it.”
“And what is this for?” He lifted up a biscuit cutter, turning it over in his hand.
“Obviously, it’s for cutting biscuits,” Mrs. Allen said, her chin jutting out.
“I know, but why do you need one?”
His mother laughed, taking the appliance and placing it back on the big pile on the counter. “Never you mind. I want these things, so please add up the cost, if you don’t mind.”
“Mother, I—”
“Must I explain to you again that it is a great pleasure to be supportive of your venture while at the same time pur
chasing things I sorely need?”
Sam reached for the bill of sale pad. “I am willing to admit when defeated. Thank you, Mother.”
“There. He knows when to quit,” she said as she took one last trip around the store while Sam added up the total.
“This really is nice of her to do.” Meg laughed behind her hand. “Suzanne and James will be delighted.”
Sam smiled, looked down and said, “It’s the least we can do for taking over their store. But what I don’t understand is why she’s buying all these things she doesn’t actually need.”
“What do you mean? She explained the juicer and the biscuit cutter.”
“Sort of, but all this fabric? And ribbons and needles and thread?”
“She said she wanted to make a dress. It’s beautiful fabric, isn’t it? It will look very elegant on her.”
Sam laughed loudly, and waved at his mother as she turned around and smiled. He leaned in to Meg and whispered in her ear, “My mother couldn’t sew a dress to save her life. She doesn’t know how to sew.”
Chapter 24
Sam had walked his mother home with the goods she’d purchased—well, some of them. They’d had to bring the rest home later, when Suzanne and James had returned. James had slapped his forehead and Suzanne shook with laughter as they relayed the events of the morning.
“I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you two,” Suzanne had said before they’d left, and James’s eyes had grown wide as he looked at the bill of sale from Mrs. Allen.
“Goodness, that’s quite a lot. Thank you,” he’d said just before they’d left.
“Don’t thank me. My mother is nothing if not generous, and we are happy that today, it was your windfall.”
Sam had tipped his hat in thanks to both Suzanne and James as they left, heading home after what had been at least a very interesting day.
Sam held out his arm for Meg, and they walked home slowly, quiet after their experience.
“How do you think it’s going, Sam?” Meg said as they approached the house.
He pushed his hat back on his head and looked up at his mother’s window. “I honestly can’t say. I have high hopes, but I’m not so dim as to think that my mother’s easily fooled. She hasn’t said anything, so I’m hoping that I’m right.”
“We’ve had a few missteps, but I think overall it’s gone very well.”
“I think so, too, and like I said in the store, I am very grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever met such a compassionate, kind person as you, Meg.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have.” She felt her ears heat at the compliment, and squeezed his arm. They’d been so busy at the mercantile that she’d barely had a chance to talk with him alone since his mother arrived, and warmth spread through her heart as her hopes rose, once again, that he might see her for who she was—the perfect wife for him.
“I…I wanted to apologize for last night. For putting you in a compromising situation. I hadn’t anticipated that would be a problem.”
“Sam Allen, I am a big girl. I didn’t feel compromised at all. It was for the cause, after all.”
“Well, maybe I was the one uncomfortable, then. Having you in my room was…maybe more challenging for me than for you,” he said as they reached the steps of the house.
She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to him. “And why would that be, Sam?” She knew she’d been feeling something from him. She wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was, but she did, and if she could get him to say it…
“There you two are.” Mrs. Allen’s bright voice interrupted their moment as she flung the door wide for them to enter.
Sam held Meg’s eyes for a moment longer, a question in them, before he turned and greeted his mother.
“Yes, we just got here. Closed up the shop.”
“Perfect timing. Don’t forget, we’re going to the show tonight. I don’t know what you usually do for supper, but I thought I could take you out to dinner beforehand. Maybe to the Occidental—”
“Oh, that’s kind of you, but we eat at the Occidental all the time.”
Meg squeezed Sam’s arm while she smiled at Mrs. Allen, imagining the disaster that would certainly occur if Sam went into the Occidental on a night he normally would be working. All his customers would be there, and would wonder why he was sitting at a table instead of serving behind the bar.
“Oh, right, right.” Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Meg. “We can go there before you leave, but how about the Crystal Palace? They’re famous for their steaks.”
“Lovely. I have no preference. I will take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
“Thank you, that would be nice. Can I just have a moment to change and freshen up?” Meg glanced in the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door, shaking her head at the mess that her hair had become.
“Of course, dear. After a bit, I’d be happy to come up and help you with your hair. It’s so lovely, and I’d like to show you a current New York style, if you’d like.”
Meg’s hand rushed to her hair. “I know it’s awful,” she said, glancing again in the mirror.
“Not at all, my dear. I just thought you might like to see something new. If you don’t like it, we can take it out.”
Meg thought of all the times her mother had done her hair for her and regretted not paying more attention. “My mother used to do that for me. That would be lovely.”
“Good, it’s settled, then. I’ll be up in a few minutes, and Sam can use the time to get cleaned up as well.”
Meg climbed the staircase and had her hand on the doorknob of her room before she realized that Mrs. Allen would be expecting her in Sam’s room. She couldn’t even imagine what Sam would think when he realized that they were doing her hair in there.
She giggled as she grabbed a dress, her brush and her combs and ran next door, changing as quickly as possible into the green satin dress with peach gores that she’d grabbed in a hurry. It would have to do.
Just as she sat down at the vanity and began to take the pins out of her hair, Mrs. Allen knocked twice and said, “Meg? You ready?”
“Yes, Mrs. Allen, come in.” Her quick breathing was just coming back to normal and she hoped that Mrs. Allen wouldn’t notice.
“What a lovely dress, my dear,” she said as she set some ribbons down on the vanity.
“Thank you. It was one of my mother’s.”
“She had fabulous taste, then.” She eyed Meg for a minute, then said, “And I think I have the perfect thing to go with it. I’ll be but a moment. Oh, and Sam’s on his way up.”
Meg couldn’t wait to see the expression on Sam’s face when he entered his room and saw her there—and she wasn’t disappointed. His face turned scarlet as he opened the door and looked up at her, her “stepping out” dress hanging over the sides of the vanity stool and her hair brushed out, hanging down to the middle of her back. She thought his eyes might pop out of his head, and she was pleased that she could produce such a reaction.
“What…what…”
“Close the door, Sam.”
“No, I…”
She stood and walked past him, closing the door before she turned and stood in front of him, her eyes twinkling.
“I remembered in the nick of time that I wasn’t supposed to be in my room, so I raced over here to get ready. She would have wondered why I wasn’t getting dressed in here.”
“Oh…” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Yes, it takes quite a bit of energy to stay on top of things.”
Sam looked around his room and then down at Meg. “I’m beginning to feel very fortunate that every other mail order bride said no.”
Meg looked into his blue eyes, knowing that there would be a spark there—and she saw it. She knew she did. Her stomach did a flip as he reached out and took her chin, pulling it up toward his.
“Here, I’ve got the perfect color ribbon to match that peach—” Mrs. Allen stopped short as she spotted Sam and
Meg, and then broke into a big smile.
Sam dropped his hand and took a step back, Meg’s sigh louder than she would have liked it to be.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt you.”
“Mother!” Sam said as he backed toward the door.
“What? You’re married, remember?” She looked from Sam to Meg, her arms folded over her chest.
Sam hurried to his wardrobe and grabbed a clean shirt, jacket and tie and left the room without a word.
“Sit down, dear.”
Meg returned Mrs. Allen’s smile through the mirror. Meg watched as her hair was turned into a sight to behold, peach ribbons weaving through her hair as it was piled on top of her head.
“You like it?” Mrs. Allen rested her hands on Meg’s shoulders.
Meg stared at her reflection, and was struck at the resemblance to her mother. She’d never felt so lovely before, so grown up, and she couldn’t wait for Sam to see her, too.
“He’s going to be so pleased,” Mrs. Allen said. “I see the way he looks at you normally, and this will really do him in.”
“You do? He does?”
Mrs. Allen gently lifted Meg’s chin and met her eyes. “Yes, I do, and yes, he does.”
Chapter 25
Meg’s steps were so light she felt she was walking on air as they went the short distance from their house to the Crystal Palace for supper.
The food had been excellent, although no rival for the Occidental, and Meg had even ordered dessert, which she shared with Mrs. Allen—a very good piece of apple pie. Sam had refused to share and had a slice all to himself.
They’d taken another short walk to the theater, which was just beyond the Bird Cage, the theater with the slightly tarnished reputation that everyone in town knew about. As they approached, Sam escorted his mother and Meg to the opposite side of the street.
“The theater is just a little further, on the same side of the street. Why are we crossing?” Mrs. Allen asked as she looked over at the Birdcage, the line of men of all types waiting to enter, from miners to what looked like cowboys.
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