by Kit Morgan
Love Finds a Way
Cutter’s Creek
Kit Morgan
Angel Creek Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
Love Finds a Way
(A Cutter’s Creek Novel)
By Kit Morgan
© 2017 Kit Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover design by Angel Creek Press and Agape Authors.
1
Cutter’s Creek, Montana Territory, May 1867
Dear Mother,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have news. Aggie has decided to quit the dress shop. Of course I understand why, what with her sister-in-law Emma expecting a baby in a couple of months, but I was hoping she’d hang on until it arrived.
This leaves me in a terrible fix. With warmer weather coming, the ladies in town will be coming to me with orders for dresses, hats and bonnets. Many of them are spring-cleaning as well, or want curtains repaired or any manner of other odds and ends done.
I can’t blame Aggie. Emma hasn’t been feeling well and she doesn’t want her to be alone during the day while Aggie’s husband Eldon and his brother Lucius work on Eldon and Aggie’s new home. There’s nothing left for me to do but try to replace her, something I was hoping to avoid.
In other news, Mrs. Petroff’s granddaughter Merritt is still in town and will be living with her grandparents from now on. I think she’d planned to stay with a maiden aunt after her father’s death, but it didn’t work out. Mrs. Petroff couldn’t be happier. Merritt, as you’ll recall, came to visit her around Christmas.
I haven’t any other news, other than the lovely new dress design I’m working on. I hope you and Aunt Loa are enjoying the spring weather in Indiana. I miss the warm sunshine of home, but I wouldn’t trade Cutter’s Creek for anything. I do love it here, even if the winters are much longer.
All my love,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Cornell folded the letter, stuck it in an envelope and sealed it. She’d already penned her mother’s address on the front. Now all she had to do was post it. She sat back in her chair and pushed a lock of hair out of her face – as usual, it had escaped the confines of the pins used to put her hair up that morning. Aggie used to tease her about it all the time.
“Aggie,” she whispered to herself. “How I’m going to miss you.” Not that she wouldn’t see her again, mind, but the shop would be so lonesome without her bright smile and easy conversation.
She sighed, got up from her small writing desk and stretched. Best to post her letter now, which folks knew was her lunch hour, than wait until later and miss possible business. She put it in her reticule, donned her coat and left the second-story apartment over her dress shop.
She passed through the shop’s storeroom into the workroom to get to the front door. After locking up, she breathed in the crisp afternoon air. It was cold, as was normal for Cutter’s Creek. Here, spring didn’t really get started until June – even though it was the first of May, the trees still lacked leaves and the cold wind made it impossible to venture outside without a coat or heavy shawl. But as soon as June got there, everything changed.
She could hardly wait.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cornell.” Elizabeth turned to find a smiling Mrs. Todd. The older woman gave her white hair a pat and touched the brim of her hat. “Almost time to put this away and pull out my spring bonnet. It could do with a new ribbon, though – can I bring it by tomorrow?”
“Certainly.” She glanced at the packages in Mrs. Todd’s hands, making sure she didn’t have any other sort of garment with her. She didn’t. “I’ll be here.”
“Where are you off to now?”
“To post a letter.”
“Oh. Lovely – I need to do the same. May I walk with you?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth headed down the boardwalk to the mercantile.
“Did you hear little Merritt is staying on?”
“Yes, I know – Mrs. Petroff told me herself. Though I don’t think I’d refer to her as ‘little’ – the girl is what, seventeen?”
“Oh yes, you’re quite right. I guess I’ve come to think of her as ‘little Merritt’ because that’s what Harriet and James always call her.”
“I wonder if their granddaughter likes it. I’m not sure I would at her age. But if it’s a pet name …”
“Of course, what else would it be?”
They reached the mercantile and went inside. A blast of warmth hit them and made them shudder with pleasure. “I wish it would warm up,” Elizabeth said.
“I agree. My poor daffodils started to come up, then we had that frost a few days ago. Terrible.”
“Hello, ladies,” Abigail, the proprietress greeted. “How can I help you today?”
“I’m just here to post a letter,” Elizabeth said.
“Me too,” Mrs. Todd said, then stopped. “Though I think I could use some sugar, cinnamon, oh let me see … maybe some coffee …”
Elizabeth laughed. “Haven’t you enough to carry?”
Mrs. Todd looked at the packages in her hands. “Yes, but what’s a few more? I knew I’d forgotten something when I was here earlier.”
“Like posting your letter?” Elizabeth teased.
“When you get to be my age, dear, you’ll find you forget a lot of things.”
“Good thing Cutter’s Creek is so small, or poor Mrs. Todd would be spent by the end of the day with all her trips from one end of town to the other,” Elizabeth told Abigail with a smile.
“What’s wrong with that?” Mrs. Todd asked innocently. “Keeps me young! Or so I’d like to think.”
The women laughed before each went about their business. Elizabeth dropped her letter into the box at the end of the front counter and turned back to Abigail. “There’s my mail and here’s my money.” She pulled a coin from her reticule and handed it to her.
“Thank you. I hear you’ve lost Aggie.”
Elizabeth felt her shoulders slump. “I won’t lie, I’m not happy about it.”
“But Emma …” Abigail began.
“I know she hasn’t been feeling well, and I can’t blame Aggie for wanting to stay with her from now on. I’m just not sure whom to hire.”
“Seems to me you ought to post an advertisement,” Mrs. Todd suggested.
“Where? We don’t have a newspaper.”
“Here, silly,” Abigail said. “Where else?”
Elizabeth stared at her, feeling foolish. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Maybe because she found Aggie through word of mouth –
someone at the café had suggested she ask Elizabeth for work. And thank Heaven she had!
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Mrs. Todd said, then asked Abigail, “did I give you my list?”
Abigail laughed. “Estelle, you didn’t have a list the first time you came in. Which is probably why you’re back.”
“Oh yes, quite right. I’m not much of a list person, you know.”
“If she didn’t, she does now,” Elizabeth chuckled.
“Well?” Abigail said. “Are you going to post an advertisement?”
“Do you have a pen, ink and paper?” Elizabeth asked.
“Right here,” Abigail reached beneath the counter, pulled out the items and slid them across to Elizabeth. “After you’re done writing it, I’ll pin it by the door – that way people will see it as they leave.”
“Thank you, that will work fine.” Elizabeth flipped back the lid on the inkwell, dipped the pen and began writing:
DRESSMAKER Wanted - Posthaste
Reasonable pay – room and board provided
Inquire at Cornell’s Boutique
Experience A Must!
“There, I think that does it.” She handed the paper to Abigail. “What do you think?”
Abigail scanned the quickly-penned plea. “Don’t you think the word ‘posthaste’ makes you sound a little desperate?”
“I’m more than a little desperate,” Elizabeth explained. “After the holidays the work dies down a bit, but this time of year it always picks up. I’ve got to have help and quick, or I’ll be buried in work.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Mrs. Todd asked. “Busy ladies are better ladies, that’s what Mr. Todd always says.”
“Estelle, that husband of yours will work until his dying day,” said Abigail. “Does he ever sit still?”
“Sure he does, at least three times a day. Breakfast, lunch and supper …”
Abigail and Elizabeth laughed again. Estelle Todd could be counted on to brighten anyone’s day with her quick wit, and today was no exception. Elizabeth was glad she’d run into her on her way out.
Elizabeth watched Abigail post her advertisement next to several other pieces of paper near the mercantile door. “Do you think anyone will apply?”
“Well, you did write ‘experience a must’,” Abigail pointed out. “Jasper is pretty handy with a needle and thread, but that doesn’t make him experienced, does it?” Jasper was Abigail’s husband, and like most men could do a little mending if he had to, but that was it.
“That’s what has me worried. Aggie is an exceptional seamstress, and that’s what I need. Not someone who can patch a few holes on a good day.”
“It might take some time, dear,” Mrs. Todd said. “But I’m sure someone will come along.”
“That’s just it – Abigail came into my shop out of the blue. I can’t count on that kind of luck again.”
“You never know.” Mrs. Todd fingered a bolt of fabric. “These old fingers of mine are still pretty good. I can help out if you get in a bind.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious? You’d really do that?”
“Why, of course, dear. It would give me something to do.”
“But won’t you and your husband be selling your wares over the summer?” The Todds were peddlers by trade, traveling the countryside in the warmer months.
“Of course we might do a little of that, but we’re getting too old to drive the route. It’s time we started slowing down.”
“Oh, Mrs. Todd! It would be wonderful if you could help. I don’t need someone to mend all the time, but …”
Mrs. Todd nonchalantly waved a hand in the air. “Think nothing of it. At least this way you won’t get too far behind on your other work.”
“I hear talk of a summer picnic,” Abigail tossed in. “Women will want new dresses if it’s true.”
“A picnic?” Mrs. Todd said. “For the whole town?”
“Rev. Latsch was speaking about it just this morning when he was here,” Abigail went on. “It was his wife Mary’s idea.”
“A town picnic,” Mrs. Todd said with a smile. “How wonderful!”
Elizabeth tried not to groan. The event would be wonderful; trying to get all those dresses done, not so much. Not unless she had full-time help. “When are they thinking of having this?”
“July fourth, naturally,” Abigail said. “It’s the only holiday we have during summer.”
Elizabeth immediately began to calculate the time she’d need to do the amount of dresses she knew would be ordered … and now she did groan. “Oh dear.”
“Looks like you’ll be busy,” Mrs. Todd said with a smile.
Elizabeth half-smiled in return. “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” she said blandly. Who would have thought a thriving business could be so much trouble? What in Heaven’s name was she going to do?
Three weeks later …
Bartholomew Ulysses Brown scratched at his long beard and smoothed his mustache. He hadn’t checked his appearance of late until spotting his reflection in the mercantile window. He was tired, dirty and in desperate need of a hot bath. He hoped the shopkeepers didn’t recoil at the sight (or smell) of him as he entered.
A tall, thin man with sandy blonde hair and a shopkeeper’s apron stood behind the counter. He gave Bart a wide smile. “Howdy, stranger. What can I do for ya?”
Bart made his way to the counter and plopped his saddlebags on top of it. “I could use a few things,” he said gruffly. One thing he learned from his days searching for gold was to play the role of the rough barbarian. If he spoke properly, men tried to take advantage, thinking him some dandy whose pockets they could pick.
But he was no dandy. Aside from being a crack shot, he’d boxed in college and could hold his own in a fight. He’d also been a tailor by trade, and a good one. But that was years ago. He hadn’t picked up a needle and thread since leaving Boston in ‘64 for the gold fields of California. His father and brother were convinced they’d strike it rich and live like kings the rest of their lives, even though they were a decade and a half late to the rush.
Well, they did strike gold, but not enough to be considered rich. The claim next to theirs, on the other hand, paid off in ‘66, and Bart became friends with the two men that owned it. One of the gentlemen, Eldon Judrow, was mining to fund a search for his brother. They’d lost track of each other during the war and the poor man hadn’t seen his sibling for years.
And now Bart had followed Eldon to Cutter’s Creek. The two had kept in touch since Eldon had made his way to Montana, and he’d convinced Bart the small town was just what he needed. He didn’t fancy going back East – he liked the wide-open spaces, working outdoors with his hands, building things. He also liked horses and dreamed of one day having a horse ranch. Cutter’s Creek was a growing town and just the place to do it, so Eldon said.
“You got a list, stranger?” the shopkeeper asked.
Bart pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to him. “I don’t need much. Mostly information.”
“Sure, I’ll help if I can,” the shopkeeper said. He offered Bart his hand. “It’s nicer to help a fella when I know his name, though. I’m Jasper Smith – my wife and I own this place. And you are?”
“Bartholomew Brown.” He shook the other man’s hand as he studied the shelves lined with wares. “I’m looking for a friend of mine – Eldon Judrow.”
“Well, I know him! He and his wife Aggie live just outside of town with his brother Lucius and his wife Emma.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Bart said to himself with a smile. “The rascal found him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Last time I saw Eldon, he was setting out to look for his brother.”
“He found him, all right. Lucius is the sheriff’s deputy here.”
“What does Eldon do around here? Is he a banker?”
“No, Eldon ain’t no banker. But the bankers sure love him.”
“Cutter’s Creek has a
bank?” Bart hadn’t noticed one riding in.
“A small one. How well ya know Eldon?”
“My brother, father and I had a claim next to his and his partner’s down California way. Got to know him pretty good. He wrote and told me what a nice town this was, and invited me to visit. Never mentioned he found his brother, though.”
Jasper looked him up and down. “He didn’t, huh? Ya planning on looking him up right away?”
Bart knew Jasper was referring to his current state of hygiene. “Eh, maybe after a hot bath. I noticed a place that looked like a boardinghouse when I rode in,” He pointed over his shoulder at the door.
“Yep, and they got baths too. Eldon sure’ll be surprised to see ya – ‘less he knows yer coming.” Jasper leaned over the counter. “Does he?”
“Nope. Gonna be a surprise.”
“The wife and I love surprises,” Jasper said with a smile. “And we can keep a secret. There anything ya need to help ya get cleaned up? Need your clothes washed or anything?”
“Do they do that at the boardinghouse?”
“For fifty cents you can get a bath and have your clothes washed and mended.”
“I mend my own clothes,” Bart said without thinking. Not that it mattered – a lot of men did, especially if they didn’t have a wife to do it.
Jasper rubbed his chin in thought. “If ya don’t mind waiting for your clothes to get clean and hung to dry, ya could see Eldon tomorrow afternoon. If ya want to see him sooner, well, I’d think about getting new clothes.” He tossed his head at a clothes rack on the other side of the mercantile. “I’ve got shirts and trousers over there if ya needed any.”
“Thanks, but I’m in no hurry. I’ll have the woman at the boardinghouse wash my clothes for me.”
“Just making sure, in case ya wanted to see Eldon sooner. Especially since he’s so particular about his own clothes.”
