Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  The bed creaked when Mrs. Rutledge settled on it. She brushed Elenora’s hair and plaited it afresh, chatting all the while about this and that.

  Elenora’s questions couldn’t wait. “How many days have I been in bed?”

  “You came down with measles at the end of Tildy’s two weeks, and you’ve been sick five days.”

  “How sick?”

  Mrs. Rutledge tied a thread on the end of Elenora’s braid. “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you now that you’ve turned the corner, but yours was one of the worst cases of measles Dr. Lyle has ever treated. He’d done all he could and told us to pray. Day and night we sat by you and did just that. And God’s seen fit to give you back to us.”

  “Miles sat with me?”

  “I spelled him as often as he’d let me, but aside from meals and an occasional catnap, he was planted in that rocking chair. And you needn’t get that worried look on your face, my dear. Everything was proper. The door was open whenever he was with you, Tildy and I were here in the house the entire time, and I took care of your personal needs.”

  Elenora pressed her hands to her cheeks. “My face. How bad is it?”

  “I always know a woman is on the mend when she starts thinking about her appearance. You were a far sight sicker than Tildy, but you don’t have nearly as many spots as she did.”

  “That’s the third time you’ve called her Tildy.”

  She busied herself at the bureau, but Elenora could see Mrs. Rutledge’s reflection in the looking glass. She swiped at a tear with the back of her hand and continued as if nothing were amiss. “We’ve spent a good deal of time together, and I figure if the name is that important to her, I can use it. I know you don’t want her to call me Nana, but that chatty girl is as dear to me as my own flesh and blood.”

  When she turned around, a smile lit her face. The strong resemblance between mother and son struck Elenora. Why had it taken her so long to see what a kind heart was hidden beneath that seemingly gruff exterior?

  “Miles said you’re hungry. I’ll fix you a boiled egg, tea, and dry toast and send Tildy to keep you company.”

  Tildy entertained Elenora while she awaited her breakfast, filling her in on the latest news in town. “Mr. Olds has rock candy in his shop now, clear and straw-colored. And Sheriff Henderson nailed up a new wanted poster for an outlaw named Dead-Eye Dan. That sounds as creepy as Deadman Creek, doesn’t it?”

  Elenora smiled. “You are certainly yourself again, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  She ate her breakfast with an audience of three. When she finished the simple meal, which tasted like manna from heaven, Mrs. Rutledge took the dirty dishes and ushered Tildy from the room. Miles remained, sitting in the rocker, chasing his thumbs around one another. He’d changed, shaved, and smelled much better, as did she.

  After a good three minutes of silence, Elenora could stand it no more. “What’s troubling you?”

  He ceased his fidgeting and scraped his teeth over his lower lip. “I did something you might not approve of. I had my reasons, and I hope you’ll not be too sore at me.”

  “No! If you let Tildy call you—”

  “Ellie, trust me. I wouldn’t go against your wishes like that. It’s about your shop.”

  “My shop? Why, I hadn’t even thought about it. So tell me. What did you do?”

  He grimaced. “That greedy landlord of yours blew into town and stirred up trouble.”

  “Oh dear. I’m late with the rent.”

  “I took care of that, but I couldn’t talk Steele out of—” He pounded a fist into his other hand. “There’s no easy way to say this. He found a man willing to pay even more per month than the exorbitant amount he’s been charging you. And he evicted you.”

  “Evicted me?” The scoundrel! One. Two. Three. She scrambled for a semblance of control. “Well, I’m not too surprised. He made it clear he didn’t like renting to a woman. When do I have to be out?”

  “I moved your things day before yesterday. Your personal items are in Tildy’s room. I cleared some cases in my shop and put your wares in them. But don’t worry. Sammy’s keeping your funds separate.”

  “You moved my personal things?”

  Color crept up his neck. “Not your intimate things. Tildy packed those.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I mean other than thank you. I’ll pay you back, of course.”

  “Don’t even think about that right now. You’ve got more important matters to deal with, such as getting well. And your offer from Grayson. He sent you another letter.” Miles held up a bulging envelope sealed with red wax the same shade as the older gentleman’s cravat.

  “Since I’m not supposed to read, would you do it for me?”

  “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “I can’t ask Tildy. I’ve not told her about this yet. Would you please begin with his letter and save those from the others for last?” She’d waited weeks for this packet, and she wasn’t about to wait another minute. She shifted until she was comfortable and nodded.

  Miles picked up Mr. Grayson’s letter. “It’s dated September first, which is four days ago.

  “My dear Mrs. Watkins,

  I must apologize for the delay in getting this missive to you. My attorney was involved with a case and was unable to draft his recommendation until the trial concluded. I’ve included his letter as well as those from my banker and minister. All three gentlemen are more than willing to entertain questions from you, should you desire to make further inquiries.

  I’m sure you’re eager to hear the details of my offer, so I’ll enumerate them.”

  Miles stopped. “I really don’t think I’m the best person to be reading this.”

  “I disagree. I can think of no one more qualified to give me an assessment of his offer.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but…”

  Once she’d convinced him to keep reading, she listened intently. Joy bubbled inside her. Mr. Grayson’s credentials were exemplary, and his plan exceeded her expectations.

  Miles hesitated. “There’s a postscript.”

  “Go ahead. Please.”

  He grasped the sheets of parchment so tightly they crinkled and read the addendum.

  “P.S. I don’t share this information to solicit sympathy, but I want to be honest with you. A recent visit to my doctor revealed that the shortness of breath I’ve experienced recently is due to a weak heart. By following his instructions to the letter, he said I might have a couple of good years left. If you were to accept my offer, you could inherit my business sooner than I’d originally thought—and bring me considerable happiness in my last days on earth.”

  At her request, Miles read the sterling recommendations Mr. Grayson had included. She sank into the pillows feeling light-headed. The past hour had been unreal. She’d returned from a trip through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and learned that Miles had gone to battle for her against her former landlord and ended up moving her wares into the mercantile. And now Mr. Grayson had offered her his business on a silver platter, but the poor man had serious health issues. She’d need some time to sort everything out.

  Miles folded the letters, wiggled them into the envelope, and crossed the room, where he set it on the bureau. He rested his hands on the edge and stood with his back to her saying nothing.

  “What do you think?”

  He returned to the rocking chair and drummed his fingers on the arms. When he lifted his head, she was struck by how exhausted he looked. Weariness had carved crevices in his brow and stolen the sparkle from his eyes. He’d done so much for her, and yet she’d been so busy thinking of herself she hadn’t thanked him properly. “Miles, I—”

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I can find no fault with him or his offer based on what I read. This is everything you wanted…and more—aside from the postscript, of course.”

  “Then you don’t think me foolish to consider it?”

  “You came all the way out here from Omaha with less in
centive than that. My proposal wasn’t nearly as attractive. But are you willing to be more to him than a business partner? It seems clear that’s what he has in mind.”

  She laughed. “You said something like that once before, and I told you I view this as a business arrangement, which I feel certain Mr. Grayson does, too. I’ve never given him any reason to think otherwise. He’s kind and generous, but he’s old enough to be my father, as you pointed out. I don’t foresee a proposal coming my way.”

  Miles made a strange sound, a cross between a grunt and a chuckle. “You might be surprised. Once a determined man chooses a course of action, he tends to follow it.”

  She smoothed the bedsheet, allowing herself time to form her reply. A dizzying procession of thoughts paraded through her muddled mind. One struck her with such force that she lay against the pillows, drawing deep breaths until she slowed her racing heart. “The concert! It’s only eight days away. We have to practice.”

  “Mr. Morton understands the situation. If you don’t feel up to it—”

  “I’ll just have to do everything in my power to recover quickly, because I’m going to perform with you. Nothing will keep me from that.”

  For the first time since she’d awakened that morning, Miles gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles.

  Chapter 29

  Mrs. Sanders handed Miles a black serge sun umbrella with a curved wooden handle. “I had something a little fancier in mind, Mr. Rutledge. My sister is coming from San Francisco and is used to nice things.”

  He smiled. She was the first customer who’d come in since Ellie had recovered sufficiently to work in the mercantile, and he relished the opportunity to show her that, like Grayson, he could appreciate her ability to meet women’s needs.

  Since Mrs. Sanders was hard of hearing, Miles had an excuse to raise his voice. He made sure to speak loudly enough so Ellie could hear him in the back room, where she sat at the desk going over the record of sales he and Sammy had made on her behalf during the two weeks she’d convalesced.

  “Mrs. Watkins has a parasol you might like. Let me show you.”

  The matronly woman accompanied him to another display case, where he removed a showy contraption that was sure to please, one he and Ellie had discussed that very morning. Good thing he’d listened. “This satin model is trimmed with Spanish lace and has a heavy silk lining. As you can see, it comes in three colors, which Mrs. Watkins informs me are cardinal, myrtle green, and plum. And notice how the silver handle has a floral pattern.”

  “Ooh. How lovely. Hortense is sure to be impressed. It must be rather dear, but my sister is worth the added expense.”

  He leaned over to whisper the price, which was ten times that of the model he’d first shown her. No doubt she’d prefer Ellie’s frilly version. Women seemed to have a greater appreciation of fine things than he did, although he now used his sterling silver comb with pride. Every time he pulled the engraved case out of his pocket, he marveled at the thought Ellie had put into the gift.

  The older woman lifted her hooked nose in the air. “Mrs. Watkins does have good taste, doesn’t she? I’ll take the green one.”

  He completed the sale and handed Mrs. Sanders her parcel. She went her way, leaving the shop empty. Since things had been slow during the measles scare, he’d given Sammy time off to help Mr. Abbott bring in his crops. Hopefully his clerk would get up the nerve to ask permission to court Abbott’s daughter while he was there.

  Sammy had the right idea. A man needed a woman in his life. The right one could make all the difference. Miles glanced at the curtain behind which Ellie sat. What a fool he’d been to turn her away the day she’d arrived in town. She wasn’t at all like Irene. He’d been so afraid of making another mistake, he’d done just that. Unless his final attempt to convince Ellie to accept his offer succeeded, she’d be packing her things the day after tomorrow and heading to Marysville.

  The bell on the door clanged, and a tall man in a ragged linen duster entered. “I see you got ready-made clothing. I want a complete outfit, including one of them there Stetsons and a fancy coat like that one.” He jabbed a finger at the black model on the dressmaker’s dummy.

  “Ah, yes. The rifle coat is an excellent piece of workmanship.” After a month with scanty sales, an eager customer was welcome.

  Elenora stared at the numbers she’d tallied. Whether she liked it or not, Mr. Steele’s eviction had given her no choice but to accept Mr. Grayson’s offer. There were no other buildings for rent in town, and she couldn’t work beside Miles feeling the way she did. Being so close to him and not being able to tell him would be tortuous. If only he’d say something…But he hadn’t.

  Her stomach revolted at the thought of leaving El Dorado. She rose from the desk and walked around the back room of Miles’s shop, admiring the floor-to-ceiling shelves now filled with his replenishment stock, thanks to her efforts to get the items out of the crates. If she had more time, she’d get his paperwork in order, too, but after paying him back, she’d have just enough money to cover her hotel bill and get her and Tildy set up in Marysville. She couldn’t put off her departure any longer.

  Tonight’s concert would be her farewell to a place, a people, and a man she’d grown to love. She’d rest on the Sabbath and break the news to Tildy as gently as possible after the service. First thing Monday morning she’d pack her wares and embark on her new adventure—just in time to get Tildy enrolled in a new school term.

  Elenora pressed a hand to her stomach. Perhaps by then the queasiness would cease. God had provided for her, and she wasn’t going to let her topsy-turvy emotions rule. Hadn’t Pa always said that following one’s heart was foolhardy and to trust one’s head in matters of import? He might have been wrong about many things, but she could see the logic in that bit of advice.

  Now to let Miles know she was ready to run her errand. She’d heard him talking with one man, but that was all. She slipped through the curtain as a lanky man with short blond hair came out of the changing closet wearing a whole new outfit.

  Miles saw her and smiled. “If you want to run to the bank now, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll get my things and be on my way then.” She nodded a polite greeting at the customer, who leered at her. He focused with one eye. The other was turned to the floor, unmoving.

  Cold fingers of dread gripped her. Somehow she managed to keep from visibly trembling.

  This horrid man had held up the stagecoach the day she and Tildy had arrived in El Dorado. She was sure of it. He must be Dead-Eye Dan, the outlaw Tildy had read about on the wanted poster. They were in danger, but Miles didn’t know it. She’d have to act quickly.

  Elenora forced herself to walk to the back room at a relaxed pace. She didn’t want to alarm Miles prematurely or let the outlaw know she’d realized who he was. Once there she grabbed the back of the desk chair and whispered a prayer. “Please protect us, Lord, and be with me now. I can’t do this without You.”

  Her hands shook as she shuffled some papers at the desk. She grabbed her reticule, along with the lavender envelope she used for her deposits, and headed out front. It seemed Dead-Eye had made his final selection. His attention was on Miles.

  She went behind the counter, her eyes never leaving the men, and reached under the cash drawer until her hand came to rest on Miles’s revolver. Good. The Colt was right where he’d told her he kept it—loaded and ready. She put her handbag and deposit on the shelf beside it.

  The outlaw, now fully dressed in the new finery, strapped on his pistol belt. Her heart sank. It was worse than she’d thought. Dead-Eye carried not one but two guns. He shoved the first into his holster and slipped the second into the waistband of the new trousers.

  The men came to the counter. Miles folded the wanted man’s old garments and carried on a casual conversation. Not until the bell on the door rang and Pearl Dupree entered the shop did Dead-Eye make his first move. He looked directly at Elenora, patted the gun on the side away from Miles, and
spoke in a low growl. “If you love this man of yours, you’d best get rid of that lady and lock the door.”

  “He’s not—” She’d come so close to correcting his mistake but caught herself in time. Her ploy would seem even more believable if the outlaw thought she and Miles were married.

  “Go nice and slow-like. You say anything out of line, and your feller will be ready for the undertaker.”

  Elenora heard Miles’s sharp intake of breath, but she dared not look at him. He’d obviously attempted something, because the outlaw muttered another menacing threat. Her mind raced. She could use her friend to deliver a message—if she were careful how she worded it.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Dupree. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to close the shop today. Mr. Rutledge is feeling poorly. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Would you be so kind as to tell Mr. Henderson we won’t be able to make it to our fiddling practice? I’d appreciate it. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to lock up and see to my husband.”

  Pearl’s eyes widened for an instant, and she glanced at Miles. “Yes of course. I do hope you’ll be feeling better soon, Mr. Rutledge. Take good care of him, Mrs. Rutledge.”

  Pearl ambled in the direction of Sheriff Henderson’s office looking unhurried and serene, and Elenora breathed a sigh of relief.

  She locked the door, turned, and gulped. The outlaw had pulled his gun and had it trained on Miles.

  “Now missy, your man here was kind enough to let it slip that you was on your way to the bank. I don’t reckon you’ll be needin’ to make that trip today. I’ll take care of it for you. Be a good girl, and hand over the money.”

  She went behind the counter, got the deposit, and held it out to Dead-Eye with a trembling hand. She looked directly at Miles for the first time and witnessed his horror as his eyes came to rest on her lavender envelope.

  “No, Ellie!” He received an elbow in his side for his outburst.

  Dead-Eye raised his gun to Miles’s temple. “Leave her be, or your pretty wife will find out how much damage one of these can do. That ain’t something you want her to see, now is it?”