The food in his mouth became dry, brittle leather. He swallowed it with difficulty. As soon as she hits Helena, men will line up to vie for her attention. She’d have her pick of any of the most successful men in town. How can I compete with that? Should I even try? Would that be fair to her?
He watched her chew her food slowly, then glance up at him, and flash him a small, closed-mouth smile. The brilliant blue of her wide eyes was set off by the dark hair that peeked out from her wool bonnet, and his heart lurched.
He wouldn’t want her to be miserable if she did consent to marry him. She might feel that she owed him for saving her from Croft, and marry him out of obligation. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want just any wife—if he was to risk his heart again, after the wrenching pain of losing Tabitha, then he wanted the risk to be worth it. He wanted Madeline’s love. He needed it, and if he didn’t have it, then he’d have to let her go.
“What’s wrong?”
He realized she was watching him.
“Is there something wrong with your food? You usually shovel it in like it’s the last meal you’ll ever have.”
Clay’s jaw clenched. She had noticed his eating habits. “Nothing. Just…tired, is all.” He picked up his fork and forced himself to keep eating.
He couldn’t take the suspense of not knowing. “So…when we get back to Helena, what are your plans? I mean, I’ll help you find a place, of course, but what else will you do? Will you…uh…want to find a job? Or…a new husband? Or contact your marriage broker again?”
Madeline shook her head. “I doubt he’d have me back, after foiling one marriage arrangement. To be honest, after the…unfortunate experience with Mr. Croft, I’m not exactly eager to jump into marriage with anyone. Not that they’ll be lining up for me.” She laughed, and took a delicate bite of cheese.
Clay felt the tension drain from his body. “Really?”
She nodded, and finished chewing. “Cara suggested I get a job. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hire me, but she had an idea or two about that. I just hope I’m up to the challenge. I’ve never done work of any kind before.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” With his spirits lifted, he ate with gusto. He wasn’t disappointed to hear her say she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry anyone—after the experience with Croft, who could blame her? He just needed to find out if she had any feelings for him. If she did, he was sure that, with enough time, she would want to marry him. Clay was more eager than ever to get back to Helena and begin what he hoped would be their new life together.
***
Madeline watched Clay eat, and knew something was wrong. The man usually ate as if he hadn’t had a meal in weeks. It was a wonder he still had such a fit, chiseled physique with an appetite like that. Her eyes following the lines of his body, resting wherever his clothing hugged his muscular frame. Then she realized what she was doing, and shifted her gaze back to her food, a flush creeping up her neck.
She shifted her attention to his mood. Why does he look so distracted? She wondered if he was worried that she planned to be a burden on him—to try to trap him into marriage, or borrow money to live off of.
Well, he won’t need to worry about that. Madeline Barstow is no one’s burden. She had left Boston to ease her mother’s guilt about being a burden on Mother’s brother-in-law, hadn’t she? Well, that, and the fact that I couldn’t bear to put up with being the target of gossip and jokes for marrying below my station.
What a foolish mistake that had been! Instead of marrying a decent man back in Boston who could provide her with a comfortable life—though not the decadent luxury she’d been raised in—she had delivered herself into the hands of an abusive monster. All to avoid the raised eyebrows of the Boston Brahmin! There was a reason that for the Bible passage pride goeth before a fall.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, of that, she was certain. If she found herself someday able to secure a good position in society, she would have the common sense to snatch it up, and leave the gossips to their own.
She was glad to see that after she and Clay had spoken a bit, he looked less concerned. Perhaps she had reassured him with her plans of finding employment. But when he’d asked if she planned on contacting her marriage broker, she could barely breathe.
Is that what he hopes? That I’ll go back to Boston? She couldn’t imagine that he would want that if he had even the slightest desire to pursue a courtship with her. But he had said, more than once, that she got under his skin. Why would any man want to be with a woman who drove him mad? And perhaps Cara had already told him that there was no danger of Madeline being pregnant. Of course. So there’s no reason, now, for him to pursue the idea of marrying me.
Madeline was besieged with crushing disappointment. When he’d come back for her at the Croft ranch, she’d been so relieved. Not just to be rescued the impending assault, but that he’d cared enough to come back for her. Even after hearing him profess to Cara the night before that he would marry Madeline if it was necessary, she still, deep down, had hoped that he had some feelings for her. He had given up his sleigh and his trip money for her—she had hoped that might mean something…but did it?
It would seem that after rescuing her from such a dire fate, a man who truly cared for her would have been so relieved to have her back that he would fall to his knees, desperate to declare his love for her. At least, that was how it was in all the love stories Madeline had read. If a man didn’t feel moved to admit his feelings at such an emotional time, then didn’t that indicate that he must not really love her? Madeline felt ill at the thought. And now, to hear him ask if she planned to look for another husband…that just confirmed her worst fear. He felt nothing for her.
“Are you alright?” Clay’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You look a little pale.”
“Oh, just eager to get back on the road.” She managed a tight smile. “I’ve been traveling for so long, I’m desperate to just have one full night’s rest in a real bed, all to myself.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that. You must be exhausted. I’d have stayed another night at Cara’s, but Herman must already be worried sick, thinking something happened to me. I would have rushed back if he didn’t have Jack to help, but I’m glad I didn’t need to. I think you needed the rest.”
“I’m fine. And everyone probably is worried about you back in Helena. It’s best we get back as soon as we can. I’ll be fine.”
Once everything was packed onto the horses backs again, they set off. The weather held for the rest of the day, and they made it back to Helena late in the afternoon.
***
A few blocks from the butcher shop, on a side street, was the cleanest boarding house that Clay knew of. It wasn’t fancy, but he’d heard many a new arrival in Helena talk of how clean and neat Mrs. Preston’s Boarding House was. The meals were good, the prices were fair, and Mrs. Preston had a rather nice garden in the summer, which he thought Madeline might enjoy if she was still there come spring.
Clay tied the horses to the rail out front, then helped Madeline down.
“Remember, you’re not paying,” Madeline snapped.
“So you’ve said, about ten times.” Clay didn’t think Madeline had much money of her own, and suspected Cara had forced her to take some. He knew his sister to be persuasive, but forcing Madeline Barstow to do anything was truly impressive.
The sign on the door said “Welcome, Come In”, and so they did. Inside, the house was toasty warm and filled with cozy, but sparse, furnishings. A small table in the hall had a sign that said “Ring Bell for Service”, and a little wooden-handled brass bell sat beside it. He picked it up and rang it three times before setting it back down on the table.
“Coming, coming.” The aging voice of a woman wafted out from the back part of the house, along with the mouthwatering scent of some kind of beef concoction.
A moment later Mrs. Preston appeared, a plump lady of about sixty-five, wiping her hands on her apro
n. Wisps of hair escaped the large, steel-grey bun at the back of her head, and her forehead was damp.
“Well now, what brings you here, Clay? I have no meat deliveries today, do I?” She looked confused, but happy to see him.
“No, Mrs. Preston. I’m here to see you about a room for Miss Barstow. She’s new to Helena.”
“Are you, now? Well, welcome to Helena.”
“Thank you.”
“How long will you be staying?”
“I…” Madeline blushed. “I’m not quite sure. I know I’ll be here at least a week. If I need to stay longer, will that be a problem?”
“Not likely, at this time of year.”
When Mrs. Preston quoted the price of the room, Clay turned on the charm and got Mrs. Preston to give Madeline a small break on the price. He didn’t think Cara would have had much to spare, so he knew Madeline’s budget must be a small one.
***
By late afternoon, Madeline was safely ensconced in her new room at the boarding house, and Clay was bringing her trunks from the butcher shop, using his wagon. He carried the heavy trunks in and set them where she directed him to.
“That’s the last one. Whew! Looks like you packed everything you own.” He took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Not even close.” She smiled. “Or at least, not close to what I used to own.” She looked away, embarrassed.
“Sorry it took so long to get back. The snow is mostly packed down on the roads, but I got stuck in some deeper stuff about a block away. Shouldn’t have let the wagon drift so close to the side of the road.”
“Oh Clay, I’m sorry. I feel bad that you had to do this with your wagon. You need your sleigh.”
“Only in the bad snow. Not so bad now. Most of the winter the snow gets packed down or it melts away under all the road traffic. At least, here in town. Besides, I have enough saved up that I can replace the sleigh if I wanted to.”
“But that’s your butcher shop fund! You’ve done so much for me, and you barely know me…”
“Stop that, now. I know you well enough. We’ve spent as much time together over the last five days as most—” He’d been about to say as most couples do before getting engaged, but stopped himself just in time. “Well, we know each other plenty.”
“And that’s all you’re going to get to know of each other tonight,” piped up Mrs. Preston from the hall. “I told you that you could bring up the trunks, not socialize in the young lady’s room.”
Clay’s breath caught. He didn’t want to do anything to harm Madeline’s reputation, especially before he’d even gotten up the courage to propose. “I’m sorry, Madeline. I’ll be going now.”
“Thank you. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I can ever repay—”
“Now, now, I told you if you keep saying that, I’m going to be offended.”
“Very well.” She smiled at him. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Sleep well.” He backed out of the room, his hat in his hand.
Mrs. Preston winked at Madeline, then closed the door. “Off with you now, boy.” The old woman shooed him down the hall. “And be sure you follow the rules and hours of visitation.”
He had a feeling Mrs. Preston’s crotchety demeanor was mostly for show, so no eager gentlemen got the idea that they could take advantage of her kindness and skirt the rules.
Mrs. Preston escorted him out, then shut the door firmly in his face when he turned to say goodbye. “Nice to see you again, Clay!” She called through the glass, wiggling her fingers at him before retreating to the back part of the house.
***
The sharp rap on the door woke Madeline early the next morning.
“Breakfast in half an hour, Miss Barstow. I won’t be serving a meal again until evening. Up and at ‘em.”
“I’ll be there, Mrs. Preston.” Madeline called out. “Thank you.” She sagged back under the covers as the footsteps retreated. The bed wasn’t as grand as the one in her childhood home had been, or even the one at her uncle’s, but it was a far cry from anything she’d slept on since she’d left Boston.
She wanted nothing more than to roll over and cuddle into the thick quilts and drift back into sleep. But Mrs. Preston only included breakfast and supper in the price of the room, and Madeline planned to make her money last by skipping her mid-day dinner, instead of eating out.
She had taken a bath the evening before, putting on a fresh nightdress, and had turned in early. It felt so good to be clean and wear something fresh, from her trunks, that she didn’t even let it bother her that for the first time ever, she had to share a bathroom that other strangers used. At home she’d had her own lavatory, and didn’t have to share one until she and her mother and sister had stayed at her uncle’s home. But at least that had been family she’d shared with, not strangers.
Nevertheless, the bath had been wonderful. After she’d found the cleaning supplies and gave it a decent scrubbing, that is. Mrs. Preston had probably done a far better job of cleaning the tub than Madeline, who knew nothing about cleaning, but she just couldn’t make herself settle unclothed in the bath until she’d made an attempt at scrubbing away any possible residue from the other residents.
Madeline got up, pulled a fresh dress from her trunk, cleaned herself up, and fixed her hair, then made her way down to the dining room. There were only three other boarders, two young working women and an older lady who apparently had lived at the boarding house for years.
Mrs. Preston told Madeline that she’d stopped taking male boarders because they were “messy and too much trouble.” One of the younger boarders giggled and whispered to Madeline that “too much trouble” meant that Mrs. Preston had gotten tired of trying to keep the male boarders on the men’s side of the house.
The boarders were very friendly and gave Madeline a few leads on where she might look for work. After breakfast, she set out to walk the streets of Helena, eager to find a job as quickly as possible.
Three hours later, she’d checked with nearly every shop up and down the main street, but was turned away every time, either by jealous wives who eyed her suspiciously, and made it clear they didn’t want a pretty young thing working around their husbands, or by men who didn’t want to take a chance on a young girl who was likely to be “proposed to by the first man who walks in the door.”
If only they knew the truth about her—that she was a penniless woman who had jilted her fiancé and had virtually no skill with household tasks—they wouldn’t worry so much about her having suitors lined up.
She plopped wearily onto the steps of one of the few stores she hadn’t checked, too disheartened to even go inside. Madeline could only imagine what her mother would say, if she saw her daughter sitting like a common beggar along the boardwalk, but her feet ached. None of the shoes she owned was appropriate for being on one’s feet all day. She sighed and stared off into space, willing herself not to cry at the mess she’d gotten herself into.
“Madeline! There you are.”
She was startled at the sound of Clay’s voice, and turned to see him walking down the wooden boardwalk toward her, with a small red pail in his hand.
“What are you doing here?” She stood quickly, brushing off the back of her dress.
“I came to bring you dinner. I know it wasn’t included in your boarding fees, and I figured I’d share mine. Mrs. Preston said you’d gone job-hunting, but I couldn’t track you down, so I was headed back.” He was a little out of breath—he almost sounded nervous. “But…well…here you are.”
“Oh, Clay…” she didn’t know what to say. She was touched, but felt bad that this man somehow felt so responsible for her. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“It’s no trouble. Well, looking for you was, a bit, but making it wasn’t. Come with me. I’ve used up my break time looking for you, so I’ll have to eat while I work, but you can sit in the shop and eat with me.” He took her arm and led her to the butcher shop, two do
ors down.
She was so tired, she hadn’t even realized she was so close to the place Clay worked. He held the door open for her, and she stepped inside. The shop was small, just big enough for a counter, a coal stove, and two chairs in the corner, flanking a little table with a checkerboard laid out on it. The shop was plain, but clean and bright, with a large window across the front of the store. Behind the counter stood an old man wearing a dark shirt and trousers covered by a white apron stained with light red smears. He tied up a brown paper-wrapped package with cotton string.
“You be sure to tell that husband of yours that I expect to see him sometime this week for a game of checkers!” The butcher handed the package to a thin, older lady in a flowered cotton dress and a brown wool coat.
“I will, Mr. Kirschner.” She handed over a few coins and took the small package with her, nodding at Madeline on the way out.
“Well, well, is this the young lady I’ve heard so much about? Come in, come in!” The old man wiped off his hands, then came out from behind the counter and patted Madeline on the shoulder. “I was so relieved to hear that you chose not to marry that Croft fella. He’s no good, that one. I can tell. You get to my age, you can tell just by looking what kind of soul a body’s got, and that one’s is as black as night, I tell you.”
Madeline turned to Clay, horrified. “You told him?”
“No! I mean, yes. Only that you chose not to marry Mr. Croft, due to his rude behavior.” Clay leaned in close, his breath tickling Madeline’s ear as he whispered. “I couldn’t very well lie. Herman knew I’d taken you to marry him, and I showed back up with no sleigh. But I kept the details to a minimum, don’t worry.”
Madeline was still embarrassed, but at least the man didn’t know the worst of it.
Mail Order Regrets Page 19
