Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  “I’ll do that.” She never ceased to amaze him. A minute ago she’d been so angry with Mr. Beadle her dark eyes smoldered, but she’d obviously thought better of her approach.

  They entered an ornately furnished room filled with the rich scents of éclairs and that highfalutin café au lait Marchand was partial to. The portly Frenchman jumped up, brushed crumbs from his paisley waistcoat, and shoved his arms in his swallowtail coat.

  Would this trussed-up gent and his showy ways appeal to Ellie? So far not one vendor had enticed her to place an order. Would Marchand handle her barrage of questions with his usual aplomb and succeed where other valiant men had failed?

  “Bonjour, Madame et Monsieur. If you please, have a seat.” Marchand pulled out one of the Rococo Revival chairs in front of his massive desk. Miles stifled a groan. Some might like the silk tufted cushions and oval backs, but of all the chairs in all the vendors’ offices in Sacramento City, these had to be the most uncomfortable. He’d take a plush American-made wingback armchair over these any day.

  True to her word, Ellie remained quiet while Marchand conversed with Miles. Only those who knew her as he did would understand what an effort she put forth. Her placid face revealed nothing, but her bright eyes belied her apparent calm. Now to let her have her fun. He’d have his, too. Ellie in her element was a sight to behold.

  “Mr. Marchand, allow me to introduce my business associate. Mrs. Watkins owns a shop up our way, and she has some questions for you.”

  The Frenchman appeared more self-possessed than many of his peers. Aside from a momentary widening of the eyes, he gave no other indication of surprise. She gave the suave salesman a fleeting smile and proceeded to subject him to the rigorous examination his counterparts had endured.

  When Ellie conducted business she was the picture of selfcontrol. He could see why her father had let her do much of the buying for his shop. Miles had seen men who didn’t fare as well against wily wholesalers as she did. She’d be quite an asset once she agreed to be his partner. As hard as it was for him to take his eyes off her, though, she could become a distraction—albeit a pleasant one.

  Her intense tone drew his attention to the conversation. “As I said, Mr. Marchand, I have no interest in your regular matches. The white phosphorous is a known cause of phossy jaw, which is potentially fatal, as I’m sure you’re well aware. I want a quote on safety matches made with red phosphorous. The fact that you offer an extra box of the other free of charge if one buys a dozen doesn’t interest me. Why would I want more of an inferior product?”

  He couldn’t agree more. Ellie was not only bright. She was also well informed. Although the wholesaler did his best to counter her sound arguments, she stood firm.

  Miles spent the next half hour listening to her grill the Frenchman. What a remarkable woman she was. Why had it taken him so long to see it? At least he had.

  Now to invite her to dine with him at a fancy Sacramento City restaurant and convince her of the benefits of joining forces over a leisurely meal.

  Elenora arrived at the port breathless and stood in the shade of the railroad depot. The bustle of the city was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Boats jostled for position on the Sacramento River. Passengers debarked from the Yosemite while workmen unloaded freight from the massive flat-bottomed riverboat. Railroad workers issued continued warnings to the throng to hurry and clear the area because a train was due to arrive on the tracks that paralleled the riverfront. A group of travelers made their way to the horse-drawn trolley car waiting at the street beyond the depot.

  The engine of the side-wheel steamer thrummed, as though the vessel were eager to be on its way. Freight men plunked crates on carts that clunked over the wooden planks of the loading dock as workers rushed the cargo to waiting wagons. The buzz of countless conversations was sprinkled with laughter and an occasional shout.

  How was she to find her new friend in this crowd? She should have suggested a less populated meeting spot, but the good-natured mercantile owner from Marysville had insisted she see the heart of the city, as he called it. It shouldn’t be too hard to locate him, though. Not many men wore a bright red cravat as he did. Although it made his round cheeks appear redder than they really were, he didn’t seem to care about such things. He was far more interested in others than himself and had put her at ease the moment she’d met him.

  “Sweets for my charming new friend who’s made my visit to this great city sweeter.”

  She wheeled around. “Oh Mr. Grayson. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Who can hear anything in this hubbub?” He handed her a box from the California Candy Factory. “They’re made right here in Sacramento City.”

  “Thank you. That’s kind of you, but I shouldn’t accept a gift from a gentleman I’ve known such a short time. It’s not proper.” Not that she minded. His fatherly gesture touched her. Pa didn’t do such things, although she’d often wished he had. Each year for her birthday and Christmas, he’d told her she could pick out something from his shop. Just once she would have loved him to surprise her as Mr. Grayson had.

  “Don’t think of it as a gift. You can call it a product sample, and you accepted a number of those today.” He swept a hand toward the dock. “Didn’t I tell you the port was a sight to behold? A body can feel the excitement in the air. It gets my blood flowing every time, and at my age that’s a good thing.” He chuckled.

  He wasn’t that old. If she were to guess, she’d say he was about Pa’s age. But Mr. Grayson was nothing like Pa. The complete opposite, in fact. Mr. Grayson was stout, had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, and showered compliments on her. “I can’t believe how much freight they’ve unloaded. It’s no wonder there are so many wholesalers in the city.”

  “And you’ve seen a good many of them the past couple of days, haven’t you?”

  “I have, and it’s been such fun. I can’t wait until my shipments arrive. My reopening will be a grand event.”

  He gave her one of his jolly grins. “Undoubtedly. Knowing your customers’ interests and tastes as you do, you’re sure to have chosen items they’ll want. I expect to see your business thriving when I make my way up the hill.”

  “You’re going to visit my shop?” What a nice surprise. She’d be able to show him how well she was doing.

  “Yes, my dear lady. I’ve been impressed by what I’ve seen already. That’s why I have a proposition for you, which I’ll share over supper, if you’ll agree to dine with me again.”

  Elenora glanced around the railroad car the following afternoon. Since only two stops remained, the final one being the terminus where they would catch the stage, few passengers occupied the plush velvet seats. Mr. Rutledge, who sat opposite her, leaned forward. One of his legs bounced rapidly, and he pressed a palm to his knee as though he wanted to stop the motion. She knew what was coming but dreaded giving him an answer he wouldn’t want to hear.

  “Have you made up your mind?”

  She focused on the oak-covered hills rushing past the open windows, which allowed the stench from the smoke and a shower of fine black particles to drift inside. The task before her was equally unappealing. Although she felt certain of her decision, turning him down after he’d helped her numerous times and shown such kindness to Tildy seemed a bit heartless.

  Elenora recalled the moment he’d rushed to her aid when the awning collapsed, and she bit back a sigh. She’d been eager to accept his offer when she arrived in El Dorado, but much had changed since then. She had options now and couldn’t let feelings of obligation sway her. Turning to Mr. Rutledge, she worked to sound grateful but firm.

  “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. The introductions you made were a great help. I’ve considered your renewed offer of a partnership, but—”

  “That man talked you out of it, didn’t he?”

  His clipped words and tight features told a different story than his slumped shoulders. His offer had been sincere, and he was disappointed. While the sight gave her
a moment’s pause, she couldn’t forget how easily he’d dismissed her when he’d first met her or how many times he’d poked fun at her wares and ways of doing things. She mustn’t show any hesitation.

  “His name is Mr. Grayson, and no, he didn’t try to talk me out of it. He made an offer of his own. A very attractive one.”

  Mr. Rutledge’s knee ceased its bouncing, and he sat upright. “He’s too old for you.”

  Did he seriously think Mr. Grayson had a romantic interest in her? A smile begged for release, so she pressed a hand to her mouth and averted her eyes. When she’d restored her composure, she lifted her gaze. “He made a business proposal. As I told you, I’m not looking for anything else.”

  “But he took you out to eat—twice.”

  When the maître d’ had led her to the table where Mr. Grayson waited for her last night, she’d passed Mr. Rutledge. At the time she hadn’t understood why he was so curt when she greeted him. Apparently he was either jealous—which was preposterous—or he felt it his duty to protect her, as he had in the past. “Men discuss business over meals all the time.”

  “He’s the reason I didn’t see you yesterday and why you turned down my invitation to join me for supper the day before, isn’t he?”

  “I’d already accepted his invitation, yes. We met right after you’d left to go to the saddler, and I became engrossed in our conversation. He asked me to join him for supper so we could continue our discussion.”

  “You’d just met him, and yet you agreed to have supper with him? How do you know you can trust him? Men can be…unsavory characters. You can’t let fine clothes or fancy talk fool you.”

  She could no longer contain her smile. “Your concern does you credit, but I consider myself a good judge of character. I’m aware of the dangers a woman alone faces, which is why I was careful to be circumspect. All our interactions were in full view of others.”

  “He held your hand.”

  She’d not been aware that Mr. Rutledge was in the hotel lobby last night when Mr. Grayson made his departure. Not that it mattered. She had nothing to hide. “I offered him my hand, but being that he’s older and somewhat set in his ways, I don’t think he realized I intended him merely to shake it as you men do when you part.”

  The kindly man had stared at her gloved hand for an instant before he’d clasped it and given it a squeeze. He’d released her posthaste, bowed, and gone his way. “I have a tendency to fly in the face of convention on that particular point of etiquette in my effort to be taken seriously as a businesswoman. But you, of all people, should be able to understand.”

  Her attempt at humor fell flat. He didn’t laugh or grin. His moustache didn’t even twitch. “What, may I ask, did he propose?”

  “That’s a rather personal question, but since it affects you…” She took a steadying breath. “He’s made a tentative offer of a partnership—a full partnership—in his mercantile up in Marysville.”

  “How can he afford to do that? You have your expertise and your wares, I understand, but a junior partnership is all that qualifies you for.”

  “Mr. Grayson has no family left. His daughter and her little one were on their way out West after the war, but they fell ill along the way and never made it. He’d planned to teach her everything he knew and leave the business to her. Now that some time has passed, he’s decided to find someone else.”

  “Why you?” He cringed. “Forgive me. That didn’t come out the way I meant.”

  “It’s all right.” She’d asked herself the same question many times over the past two days. All she could think of was that perhaps the Lord really had heard her prayers. “He overheard me talking with one of the wholesalers and was intrigued by my way of doing things.”

  “I see.” He paused and cast his eyes upward as though he were considering his words before he uttered them. “His offer is quite generous. Have you given him an answer?”

  “He wants me to take some time to think about it and will pay me a visit in a few weeks. In the meantime, I’m going to continue to work hard and—” What a ninny she was. She’d come far too close to telling Mr. Rutledge her plans. She’d lain awake last night thinking up ideas and hadn’t been able to sleep until well after midnight. Mr. Grayson was sure to be impressed when he saw how well she was doing.

  “And force me to do the same.”

  The train rounded a bend, sending the cardboard box beside her sliding. She caught the package before it tumbled off the seat, set it in her lap, and removed the top. Thankfully the doll was fine. She ran a finger over the smooth porcelain face and rosebud lips. “Tildy’s never been one to play with dolls much, but I couldn’t resist this one. It looks a lot like she did as a baby.”

  “Babies are beautiful, aren’t they?”

  His voice caught, and she found him gazing at the doll with a wistful expression. Had he hoped to have children? “They are. Tildy’s a blessing, even if she is a handful at times.”

  “I bought May a Grenier papier mâché doll on a buying trip like this one, but I wasn’t able to give it to her. When I got home”—he spoke so softly she had to strain to hear him over the clanking of the train’s wheels as they ate up the miles of track—“my precious little girl was gone forever. Both she and Irene were taken from me at the same time.”

  He’d lost a child! Why hadn’t he said anything before? She longed to reach out to him, but touching him would be improper. Words would have to suffice. “Oh Mr. Rutledge, I’m so sorry.”

  He gazed out the window, his features taut. A tremor in his upper body evidenced his struggle for control.

  With a hiss of the brakes, the train came to a stop in Latrobe. The other passengers disembarked, leaving them alone for the final two miles of the ride before their transfer to the stagecoach at the end station in Shingle Springs. The conductor peeked in, doffed his cap, and moved on.

  Although Elenora was desperate to find out what had happened to Mr. Rutledge’s wife and daughter, she remained silent…until the need to offer comfort was more than she could bear. With no one around, she needn’t worry about prying eyes. She reached for his hand resting on the plush velvet seat and placed her gloved one atop it.

  When he tensed, she pulled away. He jumped up, grabbed their luggage from the overhead rack, set it in the aisle, and returned to his seat opposite her. Billowing steam and the chugging of the engine signaled their departure.

  He fixed his piercing blue eyes on her, and his brittle tone chilled her to the core. “I can’t match Grayson’s offer, Ellie, but I won’t stand by and let you steal my customers. I have a living to make, too.”

  Even though he’d used his special name for her, his pronouncement held not one speck of his usual good nature. She missed it.

  Chapter 18

  Miles dropped his carpetbag on his four-poster bed, reached inside, and grabbed one of his white shirts. He wadded it into a ball and slammed it into the wicker laundry basket. Five more followed, each hurled with gusto. He was about to send a pair of trousers sailing when a sound stopped him.

  Mother stood in the doorway, that all-knowing look she was famous for on her face. “I don’t suppose I need to ask how things went.”

  His chest tightened. He forced himself to take a deep breath, but what he really wanted to do was punch something. Hard. “That stubborn woman turned me down.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the stack of soiled collars, and flipped through them. “Sixteen? That’s four a day, which is excessive even for you. Were you that eager to impress her?”

  “How could I impress her when she spent most of the time keeping company with another man?”

  “Another man? That doesn’t sound like Elenora. What happened?”

  “She met a man as old as Abe, and he’s out to take her away from here.”

  Mother patted the spot beside her, and he plunked himself down with such force she caught hold of a corner post until the waves subsided. “I haven’t seen you this riled up since the
day Abe got to talking and trimmed off too much over your right ear. You’d really warmed to the idea of having her as your partner, hadn’t you?”

  “Why does she have to be so hardheaded? If she weren’t set on proving herself, she’d see that what she has here is more than enough. I can’t give her everything Grayson promised, but from what she’d said in her letters, she thought forming a partnership with me was a good idea. Now she wants more.”

  “What exactly did this Mr. Grayson offer her?”

  “An equal partnership and the possibility of inheriting his business someday.”

  Mother reached for his hand the way Ellie had after he’d told her about May. How he’d ached for her to lace her fingers with his as Mother was. But Ellie had pulled away quickly. Far too quickly for his liking. All he’d been able to think about was taking her into his arms and kissing her until she breathed his given name. He’d needed to put some distance between them.

  Much as he wanted to read more into her gesture, he had to face facts. She’d reacted out of sympathy, not because she had feelings for him. She didn’t want to work with him. It was clear she intended to best him and wouldn’t be satisfied until she succeeded—or ran off to be Grayson’s partner.

  “His business? What business is that?”

  “He owns a mercantile in Marysville, and he’s scouring the Gold Country in search of a partner. From what she said, he’s decided she’d make a good one.”

  “Hmm. I wonder why he’s considering a woman. It seems more likely he’d be looking for a man. Did you ask her about that?”

  He gave a dry laugh. “I’m not the best one to bring that up. She did say something about his daughter and grandchild not surviving the trip west and him having no one to inherit his shop. Maybe he’s so lonely he’ll investigate any possibility.”