by Linda Ellen
Feeling her face flame even hotter, she looked down and then met his eyes. “I’d like that, too, Finn.”
He drew in a big breath and then gave a firm nod of agreement. “That’s settled then. So—for right now, you can sleep in here, and I’ll sleep in the parlor on the settee.”
That seemed wrong to Charise, and she immediately made to argue, “Oh, but Finn, I feel bad putting you out of your own bed—and to sleep on a settee sounds uncom—” she paused as he interrupted, firmly shaking his head.
“No, it’s not. Matter of fact, I can get up and down easier from the settee than I can from the bed. Truly.”
Placated, she let out a stuttering breath. “Oh, well, all right then. If you’re sure.”
Just then, they both heard a knocking on the door to the shop downstairs.
“I wonder who...” Finn grumbled, glancing down at his casted leg.
Charise understood immediately, and sent him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. As of now, I start my duties. I’ll go down and see who it is.”
She turned and left him balancing in the bedroom doorway.
Charise could see several people through the glass panes of the narrow front doors as she unlocked the right hand side and swung it open.
“Yes?”
Standing there smiling were two males and two females—one a handsome woman of about thirty, with blue eyes and wavy brown hair peeking out from under a bonnet, and the other a woman of similar age, with frazzled reddish blonde hair and wide hazel eyes. With them were a young man who looked to be about sixteen, with bright red hair and light brown freckles dotting his fair skin, and an older man who appeared rather short in stature, with salt and pepper hair and wearing a railroad uniform and cap. The latter was holding the handle of a two-wheeled conveyance that bore her trunk and valises.
“Hello!” “Um, hi.” “Ma’am.” “Hey there.” They each spoke at once.
Charise didn’t know who to address first. One of the women cackled, Charise thought rather like a hen, and stuck her hand out. Then, she opened her mouth and, much like a Gatling gun, began to spew forth words with nary a pause to take a breath.
“Hey there, I’m Elvira Davis. You must be Finny’s new proxy bride, Charise, am I right? Oh I know you are; he showed me the photograph you sent him. Why, you’re even prettier in person than you looked in your portrait! I’ve been taking care of him since he broke his leg, you know. Oh, the poor man,” she shook her head, tsking. “He was in such pain when it first happened. I felt so sorry for him, the poor dear. Why, he couldn’t even get out of bed by himself, and I’ve been coming in each morning and taking care of his needs—you know—emptying the night time necessity, bringing him his food, and—”
“Elvira, I need to finish my business so’s I can get back to the depot,” the uniformed man interrupted, causing the woman to clamp her mouth shut with a snap and give him a glare.
Blinking from the barrage of words that had spewed out of the Elvira woman’s mouth, Charise turned her attention to the man as he greeted her and said, “I’m Charlie Cooper, ma’am. I’m the telegraph operator and railroad ticket agent. I’ve got your trunk and things here.”
“Oh...oh yes, please, bring them on inside,” she requested, moving back out of his way and holding the door for him. The man hefted her trunk off the cart and set it inside the door, followed by her valises.
“Where would you like these, Miz Maynard?” he asked politely as the two women and the young man crowded in the door behind him. Charise allowed herself a few seconds of pure joy at hearing her new name before she collected her thoughts and demurely directed with one hand back toward the tight staircase. “I’m afraid I’ll need them taken upstairs...if that’s possible.”
The man grimaced, but set his lips and gave an answering nod. “No problem,” he mumbled as he carried the trunk over to the staircase door and started up, dragging it behind him as he occasionally let out a labored grunt and grumble with each step.
Charise pivoted back to the others and the second woman held out a hand.
“Hello Mrs. Maynard. My name is Dorothea Plasters. My husband, Dave, is the sheriff and I wanted to come and welcome you to town. And, it being your first evening and all...I brought some stew for you and Finn,” she added, indicating the pot she held with potholders over its handles. “It’s such a shame that Finn got injured right before your wedding,” she added kindly.
Charise hadn’t even noticed the pot in the woman’s hands, and hurried to take it from her, but Mrs. Plasters shook her head and held it just out of Charise’s reach. “Oh no, hon, I’ll take it up. I know the way,” she added with a smile and a mischievous sparkle in her bright blue eyes as she moved to maneuver around Charise.
She paused, however, and asked over her shoulder, “If that’s all right?” Charise nodded numbly and the woman marched over to the stairway door and started up. Oh my, what in the world did she mean by she knows the way? Several reasons for the sheriff’s wife being familiar with Finn’s quarters above his shop went through her mind, and none of them were nice. But...surely not...
Turning back, Charise only just then realized that the woman named Elvira had once again taken up her monologue, although the topics seemed to be bouncing from one thing to another. My goodness, she doesn’t even finish one thought or sentence before zigzagging to another! It was positively enough to make one’s head spin! Charise tried to smile at the bubbling woman, but then encountered the eyes of the young man, who was standing there gazing at her with a hangdog expression, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers.
“I’m...I’m Toby Keller, Mrs. Maynard. I’m...I’m the reason your husband got hurt,” he mumbled over the flow of verbiage, his freckled face flaming bright red.
“Oh, yes. Sam told me about you...and that the accident was just that, an accident,” Charise answered, hoping to help put the boy at ease.
He gave her a small smile before immediately shifting his attention to his feet and adding, “I...I just wanted you to know that if you need anything—anything at all—you just send somebody for me, if I’m not here already, that is,” he murmured so low that Charise had a hard time hearing him over the barrage of nonsensical words flowing out of Elvira Davis’ mouth. The boy tipped his cap at Charise and turned, fleeing out the doorway, leaving Charise utterly alone with the unstoppable word shooter. Good heavens...being subjected to Elvira Davis is like being near a pot of water boiling over onto everything around it... Charise hazily mused.
Bending, Charise picked up one of her carpetbags and the woman grabbed the other, babbling on and on about how the citizens of Brownville had been so excited the day the train first came to town. Wide-eyed, Charise could only nod, as there was no way to get a word in edgewise without blatantly interrupting the effervescent woman. She made her way to the stairway to follow their first two visitors, with Elvira tagging along at her heels.
Reaching the second floor, Charise just caught a glimpse of the edge of her trunk disappearing around the corner as Finn once again seated himself on one of the settees in the entry hall. Mrs. Plasters had paused to let him peek inside the pot of stew.
Charise moved to take her place at his side just as Elvira pushed past and plopped herself down next to him on the settee!
“Finny, I’m so happy that your new bride is here. Now, maybe you won’t be so grouchy all the time,” she gushed, elbowing his arm playfully. Turning to Charise, she continued right on, “Oh he’s been terrible grumpy, trying to pace the floor with those God awful crutches, wishing the days to pass so that you and Sam would arrive. Let me tell you, why he just about—”
“Elvira,” Finn cut in, commanding her attention.
She turned her head and smiled at him, blinking her eyes, obviously clueless. “Yes, Finny dear?”
Charise felt her breath catch and watched her husband absolutely blanch at the endearment. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the woman turned back to Charise.
“Miss Davis,” Charise interjected, fuming. That’s the last straw. I’m Finn’s wife and I’m here now—and there is no way I am going to let another woman take care of my husbands...needs.
She’d had enough. She was tired, covered in grimy travel dust, and all she wanted to do was relax in her new home with her new husband. Summoning every bit of tact she possessed, Charise forced herself to smile and address Elvira. “I do thank you, and I’m sure Finn is grateful for all you’ve done for him since his injury, but...I’m here now, and I think I can handle things from now on. Don’t you, Finn?” she asked her husband, meeting his eyes and noting his pleased expression.
He merely gave a nod, but she could see he was trying his best not to all out grin. She had the feeling he was proud of how she was handling the situation.
Mrs. Plasters came around the corner from depositing the stew in the kitchen. Obviously having heard the exchange, she sent a wink Charise’s way, took a firm hold on Elvira’s arm and propelled her along as she called back over her shoulder, “Welcome to Brownville, again, Mrs. Maynard. We’ll be seeing you soon. Come along, Elvira.”
Charlie Cooper followed close behind. Charise descended the steps to see the visitors out and thank them for their help, locking the door firmly before once again ascending the narrow, winding stairway.
Alone again, the house was quiet as the newlyweds sent shy looks at one another with matching smiles.
“Well, Mrs. Maynard...shall we sample the stew?”
She smiled happily. “I think that’s a fine idea, Mr. Maynard.”
And so they did, enjoying their first meal together as husband and wife.
Chapter 6
T he following morning as Charise stood at the kitchen table whipping up a batch of scrambled eggs, she fought back a yawn.
She had managed to get some sleep, but awakened early, dressed quietly, and hovered out in the hall as she peeked in at a sleeping Finn. She admired his dark, wavy hair all disheveled from his sleep, and observed how one arm was thrown over his face while the other was flung outward, suspended in mid air. Her eyes greedily took in his form that was only half covered by an old quilt. He’d removed his shirt during the night, and Charise felt herself blush as she remembered him telling her he usually slept in the buff. His broken leg, in its nefarious cast, was propped securely on the armrest, while the other was hidden just beneath the cover. She forced herself not to go in and risk the chance of waking him, but instead she had made her way into the dark kitchen.
Now, she was quite proud of herself that she had been able to get the fire started in the large cook stove and glanced over at it with a smile that quickly turned to a worried frown as thoughts cycled through her mind.
I hope Finn likes scrambled eggs...I forgot to ask him what he usually eats for breakfast. I hope he eats breakfast...most men do...right? I need to find out what his favorite meals are. Who would know? Maybe Sam? No, what am I thinking, I’ll just ask Finn...he’s such a nice man...and so handsome—even with that awful cast on his leg. I’m so glad I answered his advertisement for a mail-order-bride...
With a soft smile as she remembered the spark of attraction and awareness she felt each time they touched, Charise paused in her breakfast preparations to stare out the window next to the stove and allowed her thoughts to drift over the events of the previous evening.
They had enjoyed one another’s company as well as the delicious stew Dorothea had thoughtfully provided. What a kind woman, Charise mused, thinking it would be nice to have a friend in town. She missed Beth Ann terribly, and made a mental note to find the time to write her friend a letter. At that moment, she couldn’t imagine feeling friendship toward Elvira, but stranger things have happened. Indeed, she’d need to pray about that and ask for help.
Thinking of Dorothea again, Charise relived her surprise when Finn had shared that Dorothea Plasters, the wife of the town’s sheriff, was also a cousin of the infamous outlaw Jesse James! Good heavens, I can’t imagine being related to a man who robbed trains and banks for a living. She knew that people had different opinions about the robber. Even back in Louisville, whenever current escapades of Wild West outlaws were reported in the Courier-Journal, everyone seemed to want to voice their opinion on the degrees of evil or good in each one. Some people poured over each account as if they were reading a dime novel. None of it had seemed real to Charise—but now, to actually be friends with a family member of a renowned outlaw made everything come into sharp focus.
Shaking her head to get her thoughts back onto the task at hand, she set the bowl of eggs aside, went to the potato keeper, took out several, and began peeling and chopping to make hash browns. However, more memories of last evening insisted on floating through like a full-color dream. After they had finished their supper and cleaned up the dishes, she had helped Finn take what her roommate used to call a bucket bath—and once he’d taken off his shirt, she had found herself having a hard time stopping her eyes from straying to his muscled chest and torso with its fine sprinkling of masculine hair. Finally, shyness had gotten the better of her and she had retreated to the bedroom, taking her time finding clean clothing for him to put on in order to give him a chance to wash his...unmentionables.
At that memory, she felt her face pinken and she snickered in a whisper as she shook her head. It surely hadn’t been what either of them had imagined for their first night together as man and wife!
She had made certain he was as comfortable as could be in the parlor, and then, after kissing him sweetly on the cheek, she had finally retired to the bedroom. Once there, despite the fact that she was worn out from days of travel and very little sleep, she had suddenly rallied with a second wind and an abundant amount of energy. So, she spent some time emptying her two carpetbags, neatly placing her clothing into the areas in the dresser and armoire that Finn had indicated were hers to use.
After that, she had quietly made her way down the winding steps to the bathing room for the first bath she’d had in days—and oh it had felt heavenly!
As she had luxuriated in the deep, hot water, she had paused to thank the Lord for matching her up with Finn. His home...their home now...was quite comfortable and she was confident that once Finn got back on his feet again, they would be able to create a nice life together.
Relaxing back against the tall rounded end of the tub and staring at the peeling paint on the bead board ceiling of the bathing room, she had indulged in some daydreaming about how their day-to-day lives might be in a few months. Would she and Finn fall in love...or just ease into a mutual affection for one another? Would she get with child right away? Would she be able to make friends and truly think of Brownville as home? Life here would surely be different than her life had been in Louisville—recently as well as her early years, before everything had changed and her world had turned upside down.
Feeling nostalgic, Charise had slid down and wet her hair for washing. When she sat up, she reached for the bar of Honey Landing Lavender soap, one of a supply of special items she had brought from home—correction, from Louisville—and paused to take a sniff of the lovely fragrance before commencing her wash.
As she began to rub the smooth concoction into her long, dark tresses, the action reminded her of how her mother used to wash her hair as a child. Idly, she began to think back to her childhood, when she had lived with her beautiful mother, her dashing father, and two older brothers in an elegant stone home on Chestnut Street. Running her hand through the warm water and over the smooth, rounded porcelain of the tub, she mused, we had a custom-made porcelain tub in our house, but I certainly took it for granted...until everything she knew and loved was gone...
Her handsome, debonair father, Lovell Willoughby, had
owned Willoughby Packet Company, which had operated several steamboats and made a quite prosperous living transporting goods from the southern states up to ports in the northeast. He was more than able to maintain an elegant home in a nice neighborhood, keep his wife in the latest fashions, and pay for the best schooling for his children. Her parents had been quite popular at the time, attending parties and dances and socializing with their peers. Lovell had even entertained the thought of running for public office.
However, when the war started, her father, a staunch Confederate, had pledged his steamers to the South’s cause and eventually lost his ships and ultimately his business.
Charise’s mother had been heartbroken and embarrassed by her husband’s political bent, as she had been from northern Ohio and a firm unionist. Politics had been a source of more than one argument between the fashionable couple.
Divided ideologies seemed to be the norm in Louisville at the time. Kentucky, situated between three slave states and three free, was considered a border state and had declared itself neutral after the first shot was fired at Fort Sumter. Very few families in Louisville kept slaves before the war—those who did were mostly the owners of large tobacco plantations on the outskirts of the city. Working class folks in town didn’t know what it was to have slaves do their work for them. Indeed, Charise’s family had employed white servants from the less fortunate areas. Nevertheless, many pledged allegiance to the South and the Confederacy.
Louisville, however, soon became a major stronghold of union forces, even while a large amount of the city’s population quietly sided with the Confederates. They were what people referred to as closet patriots—or as the North considered it—closet rebels.
