Lottie_Bride of Delaware

by Kit Morgan

  He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy. “You could have put yourself in danger, do you hear me?” He kissed her again and Lottie’s knees went weak. “You’re my wife, do you understand? It’s my job to protect you and by God, I’m going to do just that!”

  Her lower lip trembled as she realized that he was scared, scared that something might have happened to her. She sucked in a breath. She’d never experienced something so powerful as a man’s determination to protect her. “I’m … I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you – I just went to the lobby to …”

  “I know why you went to the lobby, but it was still a foolish thing to do! What were you doing outside?”

  “I saw him!”

  He sighed, but tightened his arms around her all the same. “Are you trying to get yourself killed before I can even bring you home?” He shook his head in frustration. “I know you’ve been … obsessed with this, and I understand why, but it has to stop now. For your sake, for my sake, it has to stop. You must let this go!”

  Her lower lip trembled, and she spoke before she could stop herself. “Don’t you think I would if I could? But … I don’t know how. It’s like it’s not in my nature.”

  He took a deep breath. “Lottie …” he began, then surprised her with a chuckle. “You remind me of my Aunt Sadie. She also has a habit of not letting go of things, then getting herself into trouble. I have a feeling the two of you will get along famously.”

  “But I didn’t get myself into trouble.”

  “Yet. If he’s as desperate a character as you think …?”

  He had a very good point. She was so close to that scurvy Mr. Brown, but what would she have done if she’d caught up to him? That was her habit, chasing after something with no thought as to what she would do if she caught it. Hadn’t that been what Leora warned her about? She sighed and nodded. “You’re right.”

  He gave her a sage nod. “Let the law take care of it.”

  “With what? There’s still no proof,” she said with dismay.

  “There are a few things that are questionable that could be brought to their attention, and should have been early on. I’m afraid too much time has passed for it to do much good, but it never hurts to try. Let me – and the professionals – handle this.”

  “But it’s not your problem.”

  “But you’re my problem. And that makes it mine.” He raised both eyebrows at her shock at his words. “Let’s just say I come from a long line of … knights in shining armor. Ones trained to save a fair damsel in distress. Even ones that hate admitting they are.”

  She smiled. He was trying so hard to protect her, and she hadn’t been letting him. She’d argued against the very idea of needing anyone to come to her rescue. But then she’d been hemmed in by the dragons of poverty, loneliness, fear … and Bob Brown. Maybe she could use a knight errant at that. “I’m suppose I’m a foolish damsel. And I’ve read enough tales of dashing pirates, knights and heroes.”

  “A fan of the penny dreadfuls, are you?”

  “I have this book – a very big book, full of such tales.”

  “Really? Is that what’s in your satchel that makes it so heavy? It must be very large indeed.”

  “It is.”

  “You’ll have to show me. But not now.” He drew her close. “Now I’d like to take my wife to bed.”

  Lottie gazed into his eyes. No one had ever come to her aid as he was doing. No one had ever protected her in such a manner, nor with such passion. This would take getting used to, but the goal seemed worth it. There was obviously much more to Sam Cooke than she knew. What sort of fool would she be to keep after Mr. Brown, to prove something she had no hopes of proving in the first place?

  But … what of the others – Beth, Alice, Judith, Leora and all their other friends from the mill? Didn’t they deserve something, anything to let them know that none of them were at fault? She’d heard that a few of the women thought they were to blame for the fire for whatever reason, which was ridiculous. How could they have been? That fire was started by Bob Brown, she just knew it! But how was she going to obey her husband and prove it at the same time? She couldn’t do both.

  Or could she? Well … maybe. But she’d have to do it his way …

  Thirteen

  Lottie said little the next day, the night before still too fresh in her mind. Sam had made love to her, but it was different than the previous nights and she wasn’t sure how to describe it. Possessively? Yes, that was a good word. She almost felt as if she now wore a huge brand that said property of Samuel Cooke.

  She glanced at him sitting in the train seat next to her. Did he seem to wear a property of Lottie Cooke sign? She had no idea. Maybe others could tell.

  They both read much of the day – Tennyson for him, while she was engrossed in C.I. Sayer’s tales of swashbuckling and derring-do that only sent her heart aflutter in the wrong direction: toward tracking down Bob Brown.

  Well, she knew it wouldn’t be easy to walk away. But why did she have to prove him guilty? It was as if some unseen force drove her to see him brought to justice.

  Lottie shook her head and returned to her book.

  “Reading something interesting?” Sam asked over the clackety-clack of the train.

  She sighed again and showed him the front of the heavy tome. He was either going to laugh, or utter a polite “how interesting” as some did when they couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “The Pirate’s Peril and Other …” He stopped, eyes wide, then burst into guffaws, causing everyone in the car to turn and see what was so funny.

  Lottie put the book in her lap, scowled and looked out the window, ignoring him.

  “Let me see that,” he said.

  She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face and fought the urge to glare at him. His scolding from last night, both the not-so-pleasurable version and the beyond-pleasure one, flashed in her mind. Would he berate her for reading such a book, or kiss her for it?

  She handed it to him and glared anyway.

  “C.I. Sayer,” he read aloud. “My, my … who would have thought?”

  “Thought what?” she said tersely. Regardless of its perceived value as literature, that book was all she had left of her parents. She and Leora both guarded their copies jealously.

  “Remind me about this when we get to the ranch?” he said with an unreadable smile.

  “Why?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I know someone who’ll be very interested in your opinion of this book.” He handed the heavy volume back to her. “Quite interested indeed.”

  She snatched it away, still angry but also feeling guilty. He had loved her last night in a way she never would have believed or imagined. But he’d also insisted on showing her who was boss and that he was now in charge of the mystery of the fire and the elusive Mr. Brown. And doggone it if hadn’t worked! She’d lost the battle without firing a shot.

  Yes, she belonged to him now, and he could exercise his husbandly rights whenever he so chose. But how did he do what he did, permeating her very soul? How could she not have her will melt to him after that? How could she tell him no? It did help that deep down, she knew he was right, she needed to let the matter go. If she could … and that, she wasn’t entirely sure of.

  She glanced at Sam, who’d returned to his book of poetry. She wondered why he hadn’t spoken to her until now. Was he still upset with her brash behavior from the night before? Was he waiting for her to start a conversation? Well, he could wait.

  She had to admit, she was disappointed as well as angry and guilt-ridden. Having been denied by her husband the right to search out the truth didn’t settle in her gut. Bob Brown was still out there, causing who knew what havoc. What if he was going insane, setting fires wherever he went? What if they read in some newspaper that a hotel, the very hotel they’d stayed in last night, had gone up in flames? What would Sam do then?

  “Did you send your telegrams?” she suddenly blurte
d.

  He looked up from his book. “Yes, I got up extra early to send it, if you’ll recall.”

  “I said telegrams, plural. Did you send a message to someone who could help?”

  Sam sighed, closed the book and set it in his lap. “Lottie, I said I would take care of it. I’ll let you know when I’ve heard something.”

  “So you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to – I can see it in your eyes.” And surprisingly, she could. For some reason, she knew he’d only sent a telegram to his family in Clear Creek.

  “Lottie,” he warned. “Don’t start this again.”

  She too set her book in her lap, the action a clear call to battle. Sam stiffened and turned in his seat to face her, his jaw set. So much for subtlety. “I’m not starting anything. It was merely a question.”

  “One I gave you the answer to. I’ve already taken care of it.”

  “How, if you didn’t send a telegram?”

  “How do you know if I did or didn’t?”

  She snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t want to outright accuse him of being a liar, but … oh blast, did he say he would contact someone by telegraph to see to the matter? Or did he have some other means of contacting help? “Did you write a letter? What did you do?”

  “Oh for the love of … you are driving me round the bend, woman!”

  “I have to know …” Think quick, Lot old girl, she told herself. Then something struck her. “You did promise.”

  “What?”

  “I promised to leave it be. I broke that promise, once, and you were justifiably angry at me for it. You said you would take care of it. Did you break that promise?”

  The look on his face told her her dart had struck home. “I didn’t send a telegram about it –” He held up a hand to stop her before she could jump in. “– but I did contact a friend in Chicago, a trustworthy man, to look into it. I am taking care of it. Now are you satisfied?” he added tersely.

  Lottie nodded. “Yes, thank you. Now at least I have something I can tell the others back in Lawrence.”

  He studied her. “That makes sense. I suppose they might sleep better …”

  “Yes,” she was quick to agree.

  Sam nodded as he thought. “You should pen them a note at the lunch stop, I’m sure we can find someone to toss it in the post. They may even have something at the train station. Are you sure if you send a letter, your roommates will receive it before they leave to get married?”

  “Someone will. Beth hadn’t heard from her gentleman yet, I know that.”

  “Well then, by all means.”

  Lottie sat back in satisfaction. Maybe if she wrote to Beth and the others, she’d feel better. Maybe she’d even get a letter or two in return and find out how they were faring. The lunch stop couldn’t come soon enough.

  *

  Dear Leora, Beth, Alice and Judith,

  Sam and I are currently in South Dakota, and will reach Clear Creek in only a few days. Our journey has been quite eventful. We stopped over in Chicago, as Sam said we would and took in some sights. But I saw one sight I didn’t expect to: our former employer Bob Brown! I cannot begin to describe my shock when I spotted him in the very hotel in which we were staying!

  Unfortunately, my new husband forbade me to pursue any sort of contact. It’s for my own safety, I understand, but you can imagine my disappointment. Do not despair, though. Sam was kind enough to offer to help discover what happened the day of the fire. I’ll send you what information he is able to glean.

  In the meantime, I hope you are all doing well. Leora, I’m sure you are preparing to leave for California, as are you, Alice and Judith, for your destinations. I hope you find much happiness with your new husbands. And Beth, my guess is that by now you’ve heard back from your gentleman. I can’t wait to hear about him.

  All my love,

  Lottie

  Lottie folded the letter, put it in an envelope, then handed it to Sam. “You’d best return to the train,” he said. “I’ll take care of this.”

  She nodded. She wanted to write more, but there wasn’t time. The lunch stop in the colorfully named town of Vermillion, South Dakota wasn’t long, just enough to write that quick letter if she didn’t bother to eat. Thankfully, Sam carried paper, envelopes, pen and ink in a box in his traveling bag. She addressed the envelope first, penned the letter as fast as she could and now wished she had eaten something.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “I’ll see if I can’t grab us a bite. Now go – people are already returning to the train.”

  Lottie fought against a sigh and did as he said. Once on the train, she returned to her seat with a pang of regret. Would she ever be able to prove that Bob Brown was guilty? And if not, would she ever be able to shake the overwhelming sense that she’d failed somehow? That she wasn’t able to fix it?

  Lottie gasped. That was it. She was trying to fix the entire situation she and the other mill employees were in. But Roberta the mill’s bookkeeper, God bless her, had already done so, in a manner of speaking. If she hadn’t come up with the mail-order bride idea, who knows what would’ve become of them? Most of her fellow employees had to be out of money by now, at least those who hadn’t already left to get married.

  Still, that a man was getting away with a heinous crime and with no thought of anyone but himself, made her blood boil. Someone could have been killed, and it was a miracle they’d all escaped the building without serious injury, considering how many women were in the mill at the time.

  Lottie brushed a tendril of hair out of her face and stared out the window. Would she ever be able to ‘leave it be’?

  People were hurrying to board, their steps driven by the sound of the train whistle. She looked for Sam in the crowd but didn’t see him. Good heavens! What if he missed the train? She sat up straight, her face to the glass. Where was he?

  “Here you are,” he said and sat.

  Lottie almost jumped out of her skin and yelped in surprise. She’d been watching the entrance at the front of the car, but he must have entered at the rear. “Where did you come from?”

  “Out there,” he said with a grin.

  She put a hand to her chest but couldn’t help but smile. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

  “And leave you alone? Perish the thought.”

  She spied a small bundle in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “Your lunch. Sorry, it’s not much, but it is food.” He handed it to her.

  Lottie unwrapped a half a sandwich and started to eat. “Oh, thank you.”

  “Well I have to provide for my wife, don’t I?” he said with another grin.

  He was in an exceptionally good mood all of a sudden. “What is it?”

  “What’s what?”

  “Why are you suddenly so happy?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  She shook her head.

  “Because, dear wife, we’re going home.”

  Home. How could she have forgotten about that? Nothing seemed to be able to sink into her consciousness. It was as if her obsession with dear old Mr. Brown had shoved a cork into her being, and it was only when Sam took her in his arms at night that it worked loose. Of course, Sam did the same thing to her, and no thoughts permeated the love-induced fog he was able to place her in …

  Enough of that – she had to get serious about what was happening. She was married! Soon she’d be meeting Sam’s family and start her new life at his ranch. What would that mean? Would she be working sunup to sundown? Would his family accept her?

  She became nervous all over again. Brown’s Textile Mill was the only world she knew after her parents died; the same for her sister. Working day in and day out had been their life, and they scraped to get by. There was never much in the way of socializing for either of them, and what little of that was with their fellow mill workers.

  She remembered the time she and a girl named
Willow spent an afternoon in the park, just reading books. It was a simple thing to do, but it was heavenly – the first time she and the girl had done anything together outside the daily burden of work. Lottie had enjoyed the silent companionship. What, she wondered, had become of Willow? Of all the others?

  One thing was for certain: none of their lives would ever be the same. Whether or not things would turn out for the better, she had no idea.

  And that’s what bothered her the most. She hadn’t realized how much she cared until now. Lottie had always watched out for her friends and co-workers … and now all of it was gone, her purpose along with it. Until it had been replaced by her quest to prove Bob Brown guilty, that is. Being Mrs. Cooke hadn’t quite replaced that yet.

  *

  The rest of the train trip was uneventful. Lottie found that she slept a lot, perhaps worn out by the stress of the previous weeks. Or perhaps the sudden changes in her life were more burdensome than she’d thought, and this was her way of preparing to face them. She always did handle things better after a good night’s rest.

  But sleeping sitting up on a train did little to lessen the guilt, anger and helplessness. She’d failed to prove anything. She’d had her chance, her golden opportunity, but hadn’t done enough. And when she’d tried to catch up, that was when Sam happened upon her in the street. What would have happened if she had been able to confront Mr. Brown? She would never know.

  “I can’t wait for you to see Clear Creek!” Sam announced, giving her a playful nudge. He’d been like this ever since they’d passed into Wyoming, for crying out loud – like a child on Christmas Eve.

  Before she could comment the train whistle blew, and the conductor announced the next station – “Clear Creek, Oregon!” She glanced out the window again. They had arrived. Her new life was about to begin. She blew out a shuddering breath.

  “What’s the matter?” Sam asked with concern.