Sibbie sprang from her chair and slammed her fists on her hips. “Well, I’ll have you know, I take care of the business end of my restaurant.”
Eustace got red in the face and tried to look busy, fiddling with the items on the counter. “That’s different for you, Mrs. Whitley. You’re old…er…and anyway, ah, your children are grown…and…well you have time…and ah, the eating business is different…and—”
“Eustace, let me give you a little advice.” Ben reared back in his chair and crossed his big arms across his burley chest. “The only thing worse than telling a woman she don’t have any sense is telling her she’s getting old.”
Sibbie’s cackle rang out. “That’s all right, Eustace. I am getting old.”
“Oh, I wasn’t implying—”
Erich decided to rescue his clerk. “Eustace, did you get those ledgers together I asked about?”
“Yes sir, they’re in back.”
Erich stuffed the envelopes inside his coat. “Then get them for me. I need to study up before I go to the bank.”
As soon as Eustace disappeared behind the brown curtains, Ben bent over the checker board. “So who’re you going to choose, Erich?”
“I don’t rightly know. I’ve got to give it a lot of thought and pray over it.”
Sibbie reached up to pinch him on the cheek, a difficult thing to do with his beard so thick. “You do that, sugar. If none of these work out, we can always send out another ad. I tell you one thing—whoever you choose is a lucky lady.”
Erich smiled. “Don’t know about that. Whoever I choose may take one look and run the other way.”
Ben and Jack started arguing over the game, and their voices grew heated.
Sibbie hooked Erich by the arm and pulled him toward the front of the store. “That won’t happen. I’m going to tell you something I forgot until just now. When your grandpa, God rest his soul, was dying, he told me he’d left you the store, but he hadn’t seen you since you were a little boy and didn’t know how you’d turned out.”
Erich could understand Grandpa’s concern. He’d been opposed to Erich’s ma marrying his pa, and the two men had never gotten along. He nodded for Sibbie to continue.
“He asked Ben and me to watch out for you—and we have. I’ve watched you around town and at church, and you’re a fine young man. I just wish Hal had lived to see you. He’d have been proud.”
Erich bent down to give her a hug. “I appreciate that Sibbie. When I came down from that mountain, I was nervous about getting along with people.” He looked off over Sibbie’s head, trying to corral his thoughts. “But you and Ben and Pastor Lyons and Mrs. Lyons and Eustace have all made me feel welcome. I just hope I can hang onto the store. I don’t know anything about running a mercantile, but I aim to learn.”
“You will, sugar, and one of those young ladies will help you.” She patted his coat where the letters were hidden.
He hoped so. Since coming to Bent Fork, he’d had to make a lot of decisions—faced unexpected problems. That’s the way life went. The things you worried about never materialized, while something else would jump out at you when least expected.
The store had been burglarized three times since Grandpa first got sick. That had pitched the business into debt. The sheriff couldn’t figure it out, but the store hadn’t been robbed since Erich had arrived, so he hoped his presence had run the burglars off. If so, he’d turn the business around.
Maybe he should wait until he’d solved the store’s problems before bringing a bride into it. Could he afford a wife? Yet he’d been lonely so long, he didn’t want to wait.
Chapter 3
Prudie reread Erich Stafford’s last letter. She wasn’t mistaken. He proposed marriage and expected the ceremony to take place soon after her arrival. The money he’d sent was evidence enough of his sincerity. A man didn’t let go of hard-earned money without being serious—well, any man but her stupid brother.
Over the last six weeks, she and Erich had exchanged but three letters, yet she’d learned he was a man of faith, took his responsibilities seriously, and offered her a good future. All she had to do was buy her train ticket, and send him a telegram, notifying him of when she’d arrive.
She’d already packed. Carianne had returned last week, and Prudie knew they all had to move out. She wanted to tell Carianne about Erich, really she did.
But she didn’t. In some way, it was shameful to admit what Samuel had done. Prudie didn’t want to air their dirty laundry. Besides, Carianne would want to help. Prudie had already accepted too much help.
“Prudie.” Carianne’s call followed by the soft thudding of the front door let Prudie know her friend had returned from her business appointment. Shoving Erich’s letter into her reticule, Prudie hurried downstairs.
She found Carianne in the parlor, tugging her long gloves off. “Did you get everything finalized?”
“I have. We leave the end of this week. Oh, Prudie, I shall miss you.”
The two friends embraced. “Life is full of partings, is it not? But we’ll write to each other as we correspond with Adela and Ramee.”
“Yes, we shall, and after I set Grandmother’s plans in action, I’m going to visit. Adela in Crabapple, Kansas. Ramee in Serenity, California. You, in New York.” Carianne plucked the rolled-up newspaper from the side table.
Prudie turned away. “I may do some traveling of my own before I settle down. What do you think of…Wyoming?”
Carianne glanced up from the newspaper. “I can’t say I’ve given much thought to Wyoming at all. Is that where you plan to travel?”
“It’s one of two states allowing women to vote.”
Carianne dropped the newspaper, her lips quirked into a smile. “I believe you’re right. They may have residences rules, though.”
They probably did, but Prudie intended to become a resident. “I would like to travel out west.”
A look of surprise crossed Carianne’s features as her mouth drew into an “o”. “When you mentioned traveling west, I had the most incredible revelation.” She pressed her hand to her chest as though she were afraid her heart might jump out.
Most people experienced an epiphany once or twice in their lifetime. They came frequently to Carianne, so Prudie returned to the sofa, preparing herself for a philosophical musing.
Carianne sat beside her. “After Grandmother converted to the Christian faith, she seemed obsessed with the need to make up for past misgivings. She said she knew she was forgiven, but her love of God compelled her to right wrongs.”
Prudie whenced. She had a long list of wrongs herself. Who didn’t?
Why did Carianne have to turn every conversation into a religious matter? It wasn’t that Prudie didn’t love God. She went to church and participated in charitable events as much as anyone. She just didn’t feel it should be mentioned at every turn.
Prudie was certain Carianne didn’t even realize how often she spoke of God. “As I recall, she had a great many misgivings.” Lady Galenshire was known to be a tyrant, even before she moved to England.
Carianne ignored that. “Grandmother wanted to do something for her native land. One of her visions was to spread culture throughout the United States. I’ve been racking my brain for ideas on how that should be done. Grandmother thought it should be a center of culture set up like a world’s fair, except presenting art, literature, and music instead of industry and science.”
“So it would only be held at certain times?”
“No, she wanted it open at all times. It seemed like an impossible concept to me, but I thought if I started with a library— Yet all the large cities have wonderful libraries already, and most have theaters and meeting halls.”
Prudie rubbed her neck. Carianne would get to the point eventually. She looked off at nothing, her large, gold-flecked eyes widening even more. “As I was visiting the library in Philadelphia, I found an article about the west…it was like the Spirit telling me I should go west. I recalled that Ramee
and Adela both went west to find happiness. Now you tell me you’re going west. Does it not sound like a sign?”
Apprehension crawled up Prudie’s back. Surely Carianne wouldn’t suggest that she go with Prudie to Wyoming. Ordinarily she’d welcome the idea of having Carianne, or someone else, accompany her. But she didn’t want anyone knowing about Erich. No one must know she was so desperate she’d find a husband through an advertisement.
“I thought it was abhorrent to look for a sign.”
“It may be abhorrent to look for a sign, but not to recognize it if it hits you over the head. I feel better when I see a sign. It’s hard to know when an idea comes from God or my own muddled brain.”
Carianne straightened the edges of her lace collar. “I wish that I could go with you to Wyoming.” Prudie froze as Carianne’s gaze pinned her. “But I can’t think of traveling at present.”
Prudie released the breath she’d held. Being assured Carianne didn’t want to go, she felt inclined to argue. “Why ever not? With your resources, you could travel all over the west, not just to Wyoming. You could visit Adela and Ramee.”
“That would be fun, would it not? But it isn’t possible at present.”
Prudie’s laughter sounded more like a derisive snort. She shrugged. “You can travel wherever you wish. You’re independently wealthy. Don’t you understand how rare it is for a young woman to be independent?”
“I do understand, and it’s an enormous burden. You know what I must consider first.”
Prudie rolled her eyes before her lids fluttered shut. Now Carianne would bring up that S-word.
“Stewardship. I wouldn’t think of using Grandmother’s money for my own enjoyment until I’d put her vision in motion.”
“No, of course not.”
“Are you staying with me through the end of the week?”
Prudie cobbled her thoughts carefully. Carianne’s perception was as sharp as the thorns of the rose bush at the back door, and just as likely to snag Prudie when she wasn’t looking. “No, I’m leaving in the morning. I’ve already packed. I just have to purchase the tickets.” And send a telegram to Erich.
Carianne frowned. “You will write to me as soon as you arrive in— Where will you be going in Wyoming?”
“Bent Fork.” Prudie pressed a hand to her lips. She hadn’t meant to reveal her destination.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it. Where is it located?”
“It’s unlikely you would’ve heard of it, Carianne. Bent Fork isn’t a city on the order of Philadelphia. I think it’s located near the Rocky Mountains…or is it the Tetons? I was never very good at geography. But yes, of course I’ll write.” She knew the geography perfectly, but maybe she could confuse Carianne. It would be just like her to follow later with plans to build a culture center in Bent Fork.
She confirmed Prudie’s fears by saying, “If Bent Fork or anywhere in between might benefit from a culture center, let me know.”
Prudie made a mental note to make Bent Fork as unsuitable for culture as any place on earth when she wrote to Carianne. That had to wait until Prudie was settled—married to Erich Stafford, running a profitable store.
“You’ll find the perfect place, Carianne, without my advice. You always do. Perhaps next year we both can visit Ramee and Adela.”
“That will be wonderful. I can still hardly believe they are married, and Adela expecting a baby.” Carianne laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you found some farmer or rancher out west and got married?”
Prudie chortled. “Funny indeed.” She felt bad about deceiving Carianne, but she didn’t want the questions that would follow. She might have to admit the reason she was going to marry Erich Stafford was for no other reason than to get her hands on his store.
That she would use a man to such a selfish end put a sour taste in Prudie’s mouth. She frowned and averted her head.
“What’s wrong, Prudie. You seem distressed.”
“Don’t mind me, Carianne. It just that we’ve been together four years, and now we must part as…well, as Adela and Ramee parted. Goodbyes are distressing.”
“Indeed they are, but everyone must go their separate ways as God leads them. That’s the only way to happiness. Adela and Ramee have found happiness with the men they love.”
“Why does it always have to involve a man?”
Carianne came up from behind and hooked Prudie’s arm. “It doesn’t have to involve a man, although most women wouldn’t be happy without a man. Truthfully, I don’t believe there are many men who would be happy without a woman.”
Prudie forced a smile and patted Carianne’s hand. She certainly hoped that proved the case for Erich Stafford.
Chapter 4
“Hear that?” Ben slapped Erich on the knee as they sat on twin barrels, the only seating available on the depot platform.
Erich didn’t have to strain his ears long before the unmistakable clatter of the train became audible. He got to his feet and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. The day wasn’t hot, but he lifted his hat to let the breeze fluff his hair.
The bath last night had already worn off. Why hadn’t he visited the barber instead of trimming his own hair and beard? This was a civilized town, not the mountains. He should have dressed up. What was he thinking to meet his future bride dressed in jeans and flannel shirt? Too late to worry over that now. She’d be arriving in minutes.
Ben laughed. “She’s not going to run away.”
“She might. One look at me. I should’ve let the barber cut my hair.” And maybe some of that toilet water Sibbie suggested wouldn’t have been a bad idea. “Tell me the truth, Ben. Do I look like a bear come out of the woods?”
“Nah, you look fine. She wouldn’t expect you to be in your Sunday best, here in the middle of the week.”
Erich didn’t know if he could trust Ben. The old man hadn’t had to please but one woman in thirty years. What did he know? The train pulled into the station, kicking Erich’s pulse up another notch. He ought to have brought her something. A gift. Flowers.
Both he and Ben swiveled around so they’d have a good view of the departing passengers. The squeal of the train’s brakes was followed by a blast of steam, and the doors banged open.
The train was full today, and the weary travelers strode through the exit, one by one. Most would get off, though this wasn’t their destination. Bent Fork was more than a water stop, and folks would want to stretch their legs.
Erich’s frayed nerves raveled a bit more every time a skirt swished into view. There were young women, old women, and those in between. Short, tall, slender, stout. Black, brown, gray and blonde heads. But none with red hair. Erich remembered that from Prudie’s description of herself.
Maybe she wasn’t on the train. She might have had second thoughts, even after sending him the telegram—or she might have gotten off schedule. No need for concern. He stared at his boots. Yeah, he was concerned. Ever since receiving Prudie’s reply, he’d thought of nothing else but meeting her.
Ben leaned over and nudged him with his elbow. “Lookee there.”
Erich glanced back to the train’s exit platform and almost fell off the barrel.
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood speaking to the porter—and she had auburn hair, swept up into coils with curls the sunlight set ablaze. She exceeded his imagination by a long stretch.
He headed toward her, Ben by his side. Prudie had her head turned, giving the porter instructions. She looked even better up close. Her traveling costume, a green skirt and jacket—the deep green of a summer forest—showed off her feminine curves to perfection. Lace and ruffles peeked out at the sleeves and rose high on her slender neck.
The porter walked off, and Ben punched Erich in the ribs. “Introduce yourself—and me too, while you’re at it.”
Erich cleared his throat. “Miss.”
Prudie turned her head, and Erich was looking into emerald eyes, deep green radiating from the pupils in concentric
circles, growing lighter with each ring. Sweeping dark lashes fluttered as she glanced from his boots to his hat. “Are you Mr. Stafford?” Her voice held the authority of a schoolmarm.
Erich swept his hat off and clutched it to his chest, as if he needed to protect his heart from this beautiful vision.
Ben guffawed. “Ma’am, we don’t hold with any of that mister stuff out here. That’s just Erich and I’m Ben. My wife, Sibbie, helps me run the boardinghouse and has a room all set up for you. I expect you’d like to rest a bit after being on the train so long.”
She smiled and inclined her head—an action that popped a curl loose at her ear. Desire to touch that curl sent Erich’s unoccupied hand into his pocket to keep it still.
“That’s agreeable with me, and you can drop the ma’am and miss. You can call me Prudie—or Prudence, if you please, though no one has called me that since my father—” Her tawny brows puckered. “Thank you for the accommodations. I must look a fright, covered in soot from the train.” Her throaty laughter flowed like rich, warm honey against the background noise. Erich didn’t know how it was possible for her to look much better, sooty or not.
The porter dropped a trunk and two carpetbags on the floor. Prudie extracted a coin from her reticule and handed it to the man. Erich chided himself for not tipping the man himself. He finally found his voice. “I’ll get your luggage.”
Ben leaned in and whispered for Erich’s hearing only. “I’ll get the luggage. You take her arm.”
After a bit of embarrassed fumbling on his part, Prudie slipped her hand onto his forearm. Even through the thickness of his clothing and her glove, he felt a shaft of heat travel up his arm. He settled his hat on his head and escorted her to the waiting buggy.
As they waited for Ben to store the luggage, Prudie swung around in a circle. “What a lovely town.”
Erich glanced down the dusty street with weathered buildings lining each side. Horses and wagons clattered by, and the riders turned, almost twisting their heads off in an attempt to get a good look at Prudie. And to think she belonged to him. Erich couldn’t help puffing out his chest a little. He’d better marry her soon, or some of these varmints would cause trouble.
The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Page 24
