Lottie_Bride of Delaware

by Kit Morgan

  Sam turned a full circle where he stood, looking for a dress shop. “Aha!” He made his way across the street and into an establishment that looked promising. A tiny bell rang above the door as he entered. A fashionable woman sat in a chair near some mirrors, talking with another woman behind her who was positioning a hat on her head. “May I help you?” the standing one asked, her expression pinched.

  “Yes, if you may. I’d like to see some dresses.”

  She studied him. “Dresses?”

  “For my wife. We’re going on our honeymoon.”

  Both women looked him up and down. “I see,” the standing woman said. “Perhaps, dear sir, you’d like to try the mercantile down the street? This is a dressmaker’s shop. I don’t have ready-made clothes that would suit you.”

  Sam took a few steps toward them as he glanced at the racks of dresses near the far wall. “Is that so? Then may I inquire as to the frocks over there?”

  She turned to him, as did the woman in the chair. His accent had finally caught their attention, it seemed. “Excuse me?” she said and looked at him more closely.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Where are my manners?” He removed his worn hat and flashed them a brilliant smile. He wasn’t dressed as a gentleman, so they’d assumed he couldn’t afford anything in the shop. He should probably remedy that too, but first things first. “Now about those dresses over there?”

  The woman glanced between him and her current customer. “If you’ll have a seat. As you can see, I’m helping this fine woman at the moment.”

  Sam nodded and found a nearby chair. “Take your time.” He could afford to wait a few minutes, but if she took too long he’d pick out some dresses without her help. Either that or leave. No, he decided, he’d do his business here. Lottie needed proper clothes, and he was going to make sure she got them. After all, she was his wife. He had to start taking care of her.

  He sighed and perused the racks of ready-made dresses against the wall. He could just picture the look on Lottie’s face when he presented her with one. Or two. Or more? No, best not get carried away …

  “I wonder if she’ll need a hat?” he mused as he spied a lilac frock. He resisted the urge to get up and cross the room to the racks, choosing to give the proprietress a few more minutes. In the meantime, he could plan the perfect evening with his new bride. Somewhere along the route west, he’d give her one of the new dresses, take her to dinner, then they’d retire to their hotel and …

  He sighed as a little pang of loneliness hit. “Ah, Lottie,” he whispered. “What are you doing right now?”

  Eight

  Lottie stood in front of the two-story home and stared. There were no curtains in the windows, or furniture in the rooms. The yard was full of dead leaves and needed a good amount of raking. This was Bob Brown’s house, she knew that much … but it looked to have been unattended for longer than the last few days. More like months.

  So what had happened? Had he abandoned the property because he was out of money? Yet the mill seemed to be running as well as it always had, its employees paid as usual. She knew he could be gruff and was rarely at the mill over the last year, but …

  Wait a minute … was Bob Brown married? She didn’t know. As an employee, all one cared about was doing one’s job and doing it well in order to keep it. Everyone assumed he wasn’t married, as there was never any mention – or sight – of a Mrs. Brown. But that didn’t mean it was a certainty.

  “Most curious,” Lottie mumbled as she studied the shriveled flowers in the window boxes. Why had he gone to Dover? And how could she find out? She turned from the house and studied several more across the street. Maybe she could ask one of the neighbors. She had so little time left – she had to make it count.

  She walked across the street and knocked on the door of the first house she came to. A maid answered the door. “May I help you, Miss?”

  Good, she’d probably get more information from a servant. Lottie cleared her throat, surprised she felt nervous. “Yes, I’m looking for Mr. Brown from across the street. Has he moved? The house looks empty.”

  “Indeed it is, Miss – has been for months. I hain’t seen Mr. Brown for just as long. No one has. Terrible to hear about his business, the poor man.”

  Lottie cringed at her words. If the woman only knew … “Yes, the fire.”

  “Indeed. I hear he lost everything.”

  “Everything?” Lottie asked intrigued. Did the maid know something she didn’t? “What do you mean, everything?”

  “Ain’t it obvious? If he lost his business, what’s he got left? I don’t know why he hain’t sold or rented his house yet. You’d think he needed the money now.”

  “So it still belongs to him?”

  “Hain’t been a for-sale or for-rent sign. He must still own it.” The maid shrugged.

  “Of course,” Lottie muttered to herself. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss,” the maid said and closed the door.

  Lottie went back to the street. It had taken her a good hour to walk to this part of Lawrence, and she’d gotten lost twice. Now she would have to figure out how to make her way home. At least she’d have time to think about what the maid had told her. But now she had new questions. Why did Bob Brown leave his home? If he needed money, why didn’t he sell it or rent it out instead of destroying his own business?

  If he destroyed it, Leora’s voice echoed in her mind.

  “Of course he did,” she protested aloud. She stopped, turned and stared at the empty house behind her. “But what can I do about it? I’m leaving.” She sighed. All she could really do at this point was relay the information to Beth and hope she continued the investigation. Maybe the two should have become Pinkerton detectives, she thought with a chuckle. But it was too late for that now – she was married, Beth would soon be too.

  She needed to try and forget about the whole mess before she and Sam headed west. Hopefully her new husband wouldn’t notice her disappointment. She knew it would take time for her to let it go. Any sort of injustice done to others always was a thorn in her side. She’d missed half her wedding vows, for Pete’s sake – how embarrassing was that? She hoped he didn’t think she was that addle-brained all the time!

  Lottie determined then and there to make sure her husband thought highly of her. But how? She’d worked in a mill for years. Her cooking skills were minimal. Her sewing wasn’t much better – after all, she could never afford the fabric to make a new dress, only patch old ones. Cleaning – well, she could clean like a dervish, so that was something. As far as private wifely duties … she’d just have to learn …

  She wrapped her shawl around her, then noticed she was near the train station. “How did I get here?” She glanced around. She must’ve taken a wrong turn – again! She shook her head in annoyance. Her sense of direction was usually better than this.

  An image of Bob Brown skulking to the station from his abandoned house came to mind, but she shook it off. There was no more to be done, but … it’d be just like the skunk to slink off in the middle of the night, wait for the ticket office to open in the morning, then take the first train out of town …

  “Oh, stop it!” Lottie fussed.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Lottie turned. A well-dressed matron stood near the steps leading to the station’s platform. “Oh, don’t mind me, ma’am. It’s nothing.”

  The woman looked her over slowly, assessing Lottie as one would a stray dog. “Yes, I have to agree,” she said with a smirk. She turned, her brown skirts swishing, went up the stairs and straight to the ticket office. Lottie stared after her with envy. The woman’s dark hair was perfectly styled, her hat and day dress the latest fashion. The sight almost made her mouth water. What would it be like to have such beautiful clothes and … what was the word? Refinement.

  “What am I thinking?” she grumbled to herself. She looked after the woman again, but she’d disappeared inside the ticket office. Maybe one
day I can have a fine dress like that, she thought. Only without the insults to others.

  She eventually reached home to find her roommates sitting around the kitchen table, several with letters in their hands. “What’s this?”

  Leora stood. “He wrote to me! He finally sent something!”

  Lottie went around the table and hugged her. “I’m happy for you! I saw the letter before I left on some errands early this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “And he sent train fare!” Leora said, tears in her eyes.

  “Mine did too!” Judith said with glee.

  Lottie swallowed hard, tears in her eyes. “All right then. Things are looking up.” Her eyes darted between them. “For all of us.” She wiped her hands on her skirt, smiled and left the kitchen. She had packing to do … well, stuffing some things into a bag. She thought about the woman from the train station with her fancy dress, pretty hat and perfectly coiffed hair. “Someday,” she muttered, and flung her shawl across the back of a chair.

  “Lottie?” Leora asked behind her. “When do you leave?”

  “Sam will be by anytime. For all I know, we’ll spend the night at his hotel, then leave first thing in the morning.”

  Leora was in her arms before she could say another word. “You’ll write me as soon as you get to Clear Creek? I have my intended’s address – I’ll write it down for you.”

  Lottie gently pulled away. “Of course – and I’ll make sure Sam gives you the address of his ranch, just to make sure. After all, his letter was mailed from St. Louis.”

  “Nevada City, California,” Leora whispered dreamily. “I’ll become a pastor’s wife.”

  “Does this pastor have a name?” Lottie asked as she pulled a small traveling bag from under her bed.”

  “Pastor Theron Drake. How could you forget a name like that?”

  Lottie’s brow furrowed. How did she forget? Easy – it was that blasted Bob Brown’s fault! Well, she wasn’t going to let him ruin what little time she had left with her sister and friends. “Yes, I remember now. He sounds like a fine man. It’s a good thing the Grooms’Gazette investigates the men who send advertisements. At least we know none of the gentlemen we’re marrying have sullied pasts.”

  Unlike Bob Brown, her mind was quick to add. Oh, do shut up, she told it.

  “Yes, it is,” Leora said, then recognized the look on her sister’s face. “Not another word about the mill. It’s in the past. What’s done is done and you need to keep it that way.”

  “I will, I promise. Now help me find my comb,” Lottie told her, changing the subject. Thankfully Leora didn’t argue. They gathered what few belongings Lottie had, including her copy of The Pirate’s Peril and Other Adventures, then went to wait in the parlor for Sam to arrive.

  *

  Sam knocked on the door, and a young, pretty blonde answered. “Hello, I’m Samuel Cooke. I’m looking for my wife.”

  The girl smiled and blushed. “Come into the parlor, Mr. Cooke. Lottie is packing.”

  He entered and stopped short. The parlor was small, incredibly so, with two chairs, a settee and a fireplace. “How … charming.”

  “You can say tiny,” she told him. “We’re aware of it.”

  “Quite so,” he confirmed. “And you are?”

  “Alice. I’ll go tell Lottie that you’re here.” She crossed to a door on the other side of the parlor, knocked softly, then poked her head inside. Sam could hear the murmuring of women’s voices.

  Lottie appeared. “Sam, you’re here.”

  “Have I come at a bad time?” he asked. “Were you able to get everything you wanted accomplished?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the room full of women, presumably the rest of her roommates. She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “Yes.”

  His heart went out to her, to all of them. This was unmarked territory for the women. Who knew what turns their lives would take once they left the tiny shelter they’d been sharing? “I trust you and your sister’s last night together was well-spent?”

  “Last night?” Lottie echoed. “Oh yes, last night. To tell you the truth, we were both very tired.”

  “You went straight to bed?” he inquired.

  “Yes,” she told him as Leora emerged from the room, followed by the others. Introductions ensued, and by the time Sam had given salutations to each, he was ready to have his new wife to himself. He sidled over to her and took her hand in his. “I’d like to take you to dinner if I may.”

  “It’s still early,” she said, studying her skirt. “Wouldn’t you like to eat here … no, that’s not such a good idea …”

  “Here?” he confirmed. He noticed how the other women’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose …” One of the women – Beth or Judith, he wasn’t sure which – breathed a sigh of relief. He just smiled and kept his eyes fixed on Lottie. “We can take your things to the hotel if you wish, have dinner, then come back here for a few moments. Our tickets are for early in the morning.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Yes, I assumed as much. We’ve been trying to say goodbye, but …” She glanced around the room at the others. “… it’s not easy.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  Lottie took a deep breath. “Very well, then. Let me get my bag.” She pulled her hand out of his, disappeared into the other room and came back with a small bag and her threadbare shawl around her shoulders. His bride, he realized, was more destitute than he’d thought. He’d speak to her about her sister and the others. He didn’t want to give away that he was well off – yet – but he also didn’t want to leave Lottie’s housemates hungry.

  He held out his arm. “Shall we?” he asked.

  The other four women all sighed softly. “Where are you from?” one of them asked.

  “Beth, right?”

  She nodded. “You have a very distinct accent.”

  “How right you are. I was born and raised in Oregon, but my family is originally from Sussex, England.” He hoped she didn’t ask any more questions. He’d rather let Lottie find out about his family’s holdings first, then she could inform the others if she wished. Thankfully, no more questions were forthcoming. Lottie wrapped one of her arms through his. He in turn reached over and took her bag to carry it. “Ladies,” he said with a nod, and he and his new bride left the little house behind.

  Sam hoped Lottie didn’t faint when she saw the Triple-C ranch for the first time – her tiny abode in Lawrence could probably fit into the main ranch house’s parlor. He pushed the thought aside and proceeded to escort his wife into her new life.

  Nine

  Lottie stared in awe as the landscape rolled by. They’d spent the night at his hotel, a small one not far from her house. It also had a small bed, so Sam had offered to sleep on the floor their first night together.

  His suggestion made her sigh in relief. She didn’t want to get to know (in the Biblical sense) her husband on a rickety bed meant for one. He obviously didn’t either, and was willing to wait to exercise his husbandly rights. The same held true the next night on the train, though there they hardly had a choice – they slept sitting up in their seats in the passenger car.

  “Does it hurt bad?” she asked, watching him rub the back of his neck.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your neck. I’m sorry if it’s bothering you …”

  “Quite all right – I bought the tickets, you recall, so I knew what I was facing. Though hardly ideal for our first nights together, I admit. But I have something else in mind for our wedding night.”

  She smiled. “What wedding night? This is the fourth day of our marriage and we haven’t had one yet – not really.”

  He laughed, reached over and took her hand in his. “Tonight might be different. We’ll be stopping someplace with a better hotel.”

  Lottie froze. Tonight might well be the night she became a real woman. She and Leora had often wond
ered what the marriage bed would be like, but just as often shied away from the subject. After all, it was like the blind leading the blind. Neither one knew anything about it, and had been too nervous to ask. When one got right down to it, their ignorance at their age of what went on between a man and a woman was embarrassing.

  Lottie wished she’d have gotten up her nerve and asked one of the married women from the mill. What if Sam wasn’t pleased with her? What if it hurt? What if she hated the act? “Oh dear.”

  Sam slid his arm across the back of the train seat as he turned toward her. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, uh… nothing. Just thinking about something.” She blushed at the lame answer, but what was she to do? If you must know, I’m scared to death about tonight … No – he’d think she was just a silly woman. Or was she? Didn’t most women go through this when it came to their wedding night? She recalled snippets of conversation from her fellow roommates on the subject: Oh, I hear it’s terrible! A man does what? I’ll never survive it! Then the infamous you’ve got to be joking!

  Perhaps ignorance really was bliss.

  “Where are we?” she asked to change the subject.

  “About a hundred miles out of Buffalo. We’ll be stopping there in a couple of hours, then pick up another train west tomorrow. In the meantime, we can eat, then go to bed.” He put his arm around her. “I could use a hot bath as well.”

  “Shameful!”

  Lottie and Sam turned as best they could to see who’d spoken. A plump woman with a huge hat sat behind them, her eyes narrowed. Sam glanced at her, then the arm he had around Lottie. He smiled. “On the contrary, we’ve just married.” Lottie tried not to giggle as he flashed the woman a brilliant smile and faced forward again.

  She leaned toward him. “Well done.”

  “That was nothing. I’ve had lots of practice.”

  Lottie gazed at him in admiration. She noticed little things about Sam Cooke the more time she spent with him, and was beginning to enjoy his idea of using their journey to get to know each other. “How so?”