by Kit Morgan
“Oh my heavens, do we have to talk about her?”
Aggie smiled. “She was horrible, wasn’t she?”
“Horrible is an understatement when describing Olivia. Thank goodness she’s gone. I did like her younger brother, though.”
“Jonathan? Oh yes, he’s a peach. I hope he finds a nice girl one day.”
“So long as she’s not anything like his sister, he’ll be fine.” She took another sip.
“Elizabeth,” Aggie said as she set down her cup. “Eldon and I were talking and we … well, I haven’t said anything to Lucius or Emma, but …”
Elizabeth set down her own cup. “What?”
“We discussed it and … we’d like you to be our baby’s godmother.”
Elizabeth’s face screwed up in confusion. “What? Your baby … wait. Aggie! Are you …?”
“Yes!”
Elizabeth’s smile was wide. “That’s wonderful! Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She got up, went to her and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you told me, and yes, I’d love to be a godmother!” She let go of her and straightened. “But who’s going to be the godfather? I’m not married.”
Aggie shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Lucius. But we wanted you for the godmother part.”
“But won’t that put Emma out?”
Aggie hung her head. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll figure it out when we tell them. Besides, we don’t have to decide about the godfather right away and Emma will be the aunt anyway.”
“When are you going to tell them?”
“Tomorrow night at supper. Would you like to come? Please say yes.”
Elizabeth smiled again, still flattered they’d thought of her in the first place. To be a godmother was an honor, especially as she was widowed. Usually a couple was asked. “Of course I’ll come. Besides, it will be fun to see the look on their faces when you tell them.”
Aggie winked conspiratorially. “I know!” They picked up their cups, smiles on their faces, and drank their tea.
The next evening, Elizabeth locked up the shop and walked to the sheriff’s office where she would meet Aggie and Lucius. Aggie had driven their wagon into town so Elizabeth could ride home with her while Lucius rode his horse.
It was all the women could do to keep quiet about Aggie’s news. They giggled a few times, causing Lucius to glance their way in suspicion. Once they got to the cabin, their excitement only grew. “We have to behave ourselves or we’ll be found out!” Aggie whispered.
“What are you two gabbing about?” Lucius said as he dismounted. He went to the wagon and helped first Aggie, then Elizabeth down. “Talk, talk, talk, hee, hee, hee – it’s all I’ve heard out of you the entire ride home.”
Aggie laughed. “Oh Lucius, I haven’t seen Elizabeth for a while. We were catching up.”
“You saw her yesterday.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, and snorted instead.
Lucius threw his hands in the air and turned to his horse. “I’m going to take care of the stock. You two go in the house and bother Eldon.”
The women laughed and did just that, but there was no sign of Eldon, so they went to the kitchen to find Emma. “Emma!” Aggie joined her at the stove. “I miss anything while I was gone?”
“Like taking the biscuits out of the oven?” she said. “No, silly. The chicken’s in the warming oven.”
Aggie opened it and peeked at the plate of fried chicken. “You should have let me do it.”
“And have me drive the wagon to town to get Elizabeth? No, Lucius would have a heart attack if I went by myself.”
“True,” Aggie said with a nod. “Elizabeth, could you put that plate of biscuits on the table? The men should be in soon.” She glanced around. “Where’s Eldon?”
“Out in the barn with his friend,” Emma said. “They rode in just before you did.”
“Have you met him yet?” Aggie asked.
“Not yet.”
“Then we’ll meet him together.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Maybe he’ll be handsome.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, grabbed a hot pad and took the biscuits to the table. She’d no sooner finished when the back door opened and in walked Lucius, Eldon and …
“Yikes!” she yelped in surprise. Good grief! Not him!
The newcomer looked her up and down and frowned.
“Elizabeth,” Aggie said as she took her by the arm. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s him!” she squeaked and then lowered her voice. “The man I was telling you and Lucius about.”
Aggie’s eyes went round as saucers. “The stranger causing trouble?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Elizabeth,” Emma said, having missed their exchange, “have a seat. Aggie, could you put the chicken on the table?”
Elizabeth sat numbly as Lucius helped Aggie bring the rest of the food to the table. Then everyone else sat down – Eldon at the head of the table, his “friend” on his left, Aggie on his right, Elizabeth sat next to her. Lucius was at the other end of the table with Emma on his right, next to their guest.
Elizabeth’s mind was racing. What did Mr. Brown think of her now? What did she think of him? Oh blast, this could get embarrassing – even more than it already had!
“Bartholomew,” Eldon said. “May I introduce our friend Mrs. Elizabeth Cornell?” He glanced at Lucius and winked.
Elizabeth didn’t notice. She’d locked eyes with the beard … er … man across the table.
“Mrs. Cornell,” he said politely if a bit coldly. Well, after how she’d acted, she could hardly blame him. But that stunt with the clothes – really!
“Aggie and Elizabeth worked together at Elizabeth’s dress shop,” Lucius added.
Bartholomew (she couldn’t believe they called him that) smiled. “Do tell.”
Oh yes, she’d tell! Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak – but was cut off. “Yes, Elizabeth is the best dressmaker in the area,” Emma said innocently.
Bart – Bartholomew – smiled. “That’s because she’s the only dressmaker in the area, or so I hear.” Elizabeth fought down a glare.
“Actually, we have two fine dressmakers around here.” Eldon looked at Aggie and smiled.
“Aggie is wonderful,” Emma agreed. “I’m sorry I took her from you, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth shook her head, unable to speak. She was afraid that no matter what she said, she would end up with her foot in her mouth. From the look in Bart(holomew)’s eyes, he knew it too. He probably couldn’t wait for her to say something. She pressed her lips together, not about to give him the satisfaction.
Eldon said the blessing, and Aggie served herself some potatoes, then passed the bowl to Elizabeth. Good; it gave her something to look at besides that walking hairshirt.
“However does a dressmaker survive in a town this size?” the hairshirt asked.
Elizabeth failed to answer until Emma prompted her. Finally, she replied, “Quite well, as a matter of fact.”
“Indeed she does,” said Emma. “So much so that she’s having to hire help.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Aggie said. “I feel like I’ve done you a disservice leaving the shop.”
“Think nothing of it,” Elizabeth said, more tersely than she wanted. “I’m sure I’ll find a suitable replacement soon enough.” She watched Brown Bart – yes, let’s go with that, she thought – stab a piece of chicken and put it on his plate. She grabbed a biscuit, looked at it, looked at him.
He handed the plate of chicken to Eldon and, without taking his eyes off Elizabeth, reached for a biscuit himself.
Elizabeth kept serving herself, longing for the evening to end quickly – or better yet, for a U.S. marshal to come cart off Brown Bart so she could have some peace. Clearly the Judrows’ choice of friends was a bit … uneven.
5
Bart kept his steely gaze locked on the woman sitting across from him. He enjoyed the way she’d fidgeted earlier when she realized who he was. She was
fidgeting now, but this time was different. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she was trying to keep herself from reaching across the table and punching him.
He reached for the butter. What was it about this woman that so intrigued yet galled him at the same time? Was it because she’d so obviously judged him by his appearance? Was it because she seemed to have her noise so high in the air that she was breathing ether, reminiscent of the snooty Brahmins’ daughters he’d despised back in Boston?
Or was it because she might be better at tailoring than him, and his competitive instincts were flaring up? Eldon had described some of the dresses she’d made for the town’s first Christmas festival. They’d even had a contest, which Eldon’s wife had won with a gown she and Mrs. Cornell had put together. What if it had been too long since he worked with needle and thread, and the magic wasn’t there anymore?
How humiliating would that be, especially if she found out his past? He’d been one of the finest tailors in Boston before setting it aside to chase after gold with his father and brother. At least they’d found some, but this late in the Gold Rush they were the exceptions – for countless men, it had been a chasing after the wind. How would she feel about a man who gave up his profession to run after a long shot?
“What progress today, brother?” Lucius asked from the other end of the table.
“Things on the house are coming along,” Eldon replied. “I’d like to get the barn started. Now that Bart’s here, he can help with that.”
“I still need to find a job, though.” Bart looked Elizabeth in the eye. “Best to get one now,” he continued as he buttered his biscuit. “Barns don’t take that long to build.” He took a bite and chewed, enjoying the flaky goodness. This sure beat the food his brother had cooked in their little mining camp outside San Andreas.
“How long have you known, Eldon?” Aggie asked him.
“For about two years,” he said. “We met in California. Before I left, I got a letter from him inviting me to come to Cutter’s Creek, maybe settle here.” He watched Mrs. Cornell sink a little lower in her chair. Oh, this was good! He smiled and took another bite of biscuit.
“Imagine that,” Aggie went on as she looked at each of them in turn, her attention settling on Mrs. Cornell. “Did you hear that? Eldon invited him. They’re friends.”
Mrs. Cornell coughed, or was it a groan? Bart smiled either way as he chewed.
Now Mrs. Cornell straightened. “Enjoying your biscuit, Mr. …?”
“Oh, right,” Eldon said. “Brown. Bartholomew Brown. Sorry, Bart.”
Bart waved him off. “Not to worry. They are delicious, Mrs. Cornell. You should try yours.”
“I’m quite familiar with Emma’s biscuits. I hear the recipe is a secret.”
Bart turned his attention to Emma. “Do tell? I have to say, these are some of the best I’ve ever had. Except for a stop I made on my way up from California, but those were rolls. Best rolls I’d had since leaving home.”
“Where is home, Mr. Brown?” Mrs. Cornell asked.
He licked his lips and took another biscuit. “Boston, Massachusetts. I was born in Stoughton, but my family moved to Boston when I was just a tyke.”
Her mouth dropped open and she quickly snapped it shut, then looked him up and down in disbelief.
“What did you do before you came out West?” Emma asked.
Bart smiled. The timing could not have been better. He looked at Mrs. Cornell, Emma, Mrs. Cornell again. “I was a tailor. I had my own shop on Newbury Street.” He suspected Mrs. Cornell would recognize the street name – it was one of the most fashionable in the Hub. Let’s see what the stuck-up dressmaker did with that.
What she did was close her eyes, as if in pain – and he found himself wishing she’d open them again. He had to admit, she had nice eyes – hazel, almost golden like a cat’s. Her hair was ash brown, and he suspected it turned blonde in summertime. Her nose – when it wasn’t turned up at hirsute visitors – was small but sharp. Her mouth …
“I want the recipe!” Mrs. Cornell blurted as her eyes popped open.
“What?” Aggie said.
“The recipe,” Mrs. Cornell tried again. “For the biscuits. Emma, couldn’t you part with it?”
It was such an obvious attempt to change the subject that Bart almost laughed. So she doesn’t want to revisit what transpired between us – at least not in front of others. But it was a little late for that – as soon as he found out she was a dinner guest, he’d told Eldon and Lucius about his visits to the shop. Lucius then informed him she’d been carrying on about a bushy-bearded stranger lurking about. The three had shared a good laugh and agreed to keep quiet about it once they got inside.
Bart wondered what Lucius was thinking about now. After all, it wasn’t every day a deputy sheriff had to worry about his out-of-town friend being accused of malefaction … by his sister-in-law’s old boss, no less.
“The biscuits?” Emma said with a little laugh. “Actually, you can.”
Lucius looked at his wife, aghast. “You wouldn’t!”
“Lucius darling, it’s the roll recipe that’s secret. The biscuits can be public knowledge. I don’t mind.”
“Roll recipe?” Bart said as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He turned his attention to Lucius. “Did your wife once work in a sweetshop?”
“No, but she did work at a stage stop in Oregon.”
Bart’s eyes went wide as he pointed a finger at him. “The Whites’! It was the Whites’ stop, wasn’t it?” Eldon had told him enough about Lucius and Emma’s courtship for him to suddenly put it together.
“Oh my goodness, yes!” Emma said, a hand to her chest. “When did you see them? How are they doing?”
“I was there about a month ago – spent several nights there, actually, to put some weight back on my frame. Oscar’s cooking is as good as anyone’s this side of the Parker House.”
Lucius patted his stomach. “Don’t I know it. The man’s a miracle worker.” He looked at Emma, his eyes full of admiration. “Taught Emma everything she knows.”
Bart forgot about taunting Mrs. Cornell for a moment and stared at Lucius and Emma. “You lucky man, you.”
“I’m just as lucky,” Eldon said. “Emma’s taught Aggie most of her recipes.”
Bart looked at Mrs. Cornell. “I don’t suppose you’ve learned a few?”
She squared her shoulders. “There’s no need for me to learn them, Mr. Brown.” She put her nose in the air. “I rarely bake.”
He studied the way she sat, all high and mighty. “What a waste. You have access to some of the best-kept recipes in the West and you don’t even use them?”
She slowly turned to face him. “I have no reason to, Mr. Brown. There’s only me.”
His gut twisted at her words, and at the sadness in her eyes when she’d said them. All the fun he’d been having at her expense congealed into guilt. She was a woman, alone out here as he was. He could handle it without too much trouble – he’d busy himself with something, anything, to get his mind off it. But it was hardly ideal – and for a woman, it was probably worse.
“Elizabeth and I made a wonderful pie at Christmas together.” Aggie looked at her friend. “Was that the last time you baked?”
Mrs. Cornell’s smile was tight. “Except for the occasional batch of cookies. Since you left the shop, I haven’t bothered.”
Aggie sympathetically patted her hand.
“Do you cook as well as you sew?” Bart asked without thinking.
Mrs. Cornell’s eyes roamed around the table. “Other than what’s been discussed here, Mr. Brown, how would you know how well I sew?”
“That’s a mighty fine dress you have on. I assumed you made it.”
“Yes, I did. And thank you.”
He made a point of studying it as best he could from across the table. “Nice stitching on the bodice, three-quarter sleeves with lace, matching lace on the collar, good choice of buttons …”
Mrs. Cornell s
tiffened. “Why don’t you have me stand up so you can examine it properly?”
“All right,” he said with a grin. She was practically begging to be teased!
Her eyes narrowed. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
At this point, everyone’s eyes were bouncing from Mrs. Cornell to Bart and back again. Eldon sat back and watched with interest. The two were obviously getting each other riled up and, even aside from perhaps some friendly competition, he suspected they were doing it on purpose. Hmmm …
“As a matter of professional interest, yes, I would,” Bart replied. “Would you?”
She swallowed hard and pursed her lips. “No, Mr. Brown, I would not. We are guests in this house, enjoying this lovely supper, and I suggest we continue to do so.”
He sat back and smiled. “You’re quite right, Mrs. Cornell.” He glanced at Emma. “Forgive me for suggesting it. Your meal is far more important than examining Mrs. Cornell’s dress.” That elicited an indignant squeak from Mrs. Cornell.
“Anyone want another biscuit?” Emma said, trying to break the tension.
“Don’t mind if I do, Mrs. Judrow.” Bart reach for the plate. “And it’s mighty kind of you to let me stay here. In fact, I think I’ve decided to give Cutter’s Creek a try.”
Another squeak. “Stay?”
Bart turned back to Mrs. Cornell. “Why, yes – it’s the reason I came. If I like it, I’ll settle here permanently.”
“What will you do for work?” Emma asked. Her eyes darted to Mrs. Cornell and back.
Bart smiled slyly. Not only was the answer obvious, but Emma had just handed him Mrs. Cornell’s pride on a silver platter. “I’m not sure yet. It depends on what work is available for someone with my skills. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Cornell?”
Aggie glanced between them and smiled. “Well, Elizabeth, you need help in the dress shop. And Mr. Brown is a tailor. Have you made women’s clothes before, Mr. Brown?”
“I’ve had a turn at being a modiste, yes.”
“Well, there you go!” Aggie said happily. “Mrs. Cornell has been desperate for help lately. She’s been so busy these last few weeks that we’ve hardly seen her.”
