by Kit Morgan
She gave him a sideways glance. “No, but … it will all work out.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but … did I just speak out of turn?”
She looked at him. His eyes were hazel, full of golden flecks of color, their lashes long and thick. “No, I don’t believe so. To tell you the truth, I … I wouldn’t know.”
He looked down at her, a smile on his face. “If’n it makes you feel any better, neither would I. Guess that’s why I was askin’,” he said with a smile.
It was dazzling. Rose felt her knees go a little week as her arms broke out in gooseflesh. “I … I suppose I still have a lot to learn. They only taught the basics at Winslow.”
“Winslow, ma’am?”
She swallowed. Was it getting warm? “The … orphanage. I … came from an orphanage.”
She lowered her gaze with her last words. The word “orphan” carried an awful stigma, like a disease no one wanted to catch.
“Well, I’ll be. I’ve never met an orphan before. Not …like… this I mean,” he stammered.
She raised a brow in question.
“I mean, I’ve met the two Mrs. Rileys’, and hear tell they were orphans, but I didn’t know until after they were married. It’s not the same, is it?”
She had to smile. He was making no sense, but it didn’t matter. His eyes, smile, and gentle presence, did.
“Excuse me!”
They both snapped to attention. Mrs. Quinn stared at them, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Mr. Turner, I believe you were on your way to fetch Doc Brown?”
He nodded, and tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” He headed for the door, but not before turning back to Rose to flash her a smile. “Ma’am,” was all he said, and left the mercantile.
* * *
“Chaperone?” Charlotte exclaimed. “You want me, to chaperone you?”
“No all the time, mind you,” Matthew began. “But I can’t very well court the girl by myself, and Tom Turner has agreed to help out as Miss Smith will be staying at the Riley farm for now.”
“The Rileys?”
He offered her a shrug. “We haven’t the room.” They were in the mercantile’s store- front. He got lucky, Charlotte came in that morning to get something she forgot the day before. She paced between the displays of cloth. Mrs. Riley had taken Miss Smith home with her yesterday. She was having Clayton bring her to town this afternoon for tea, and if Matthew had his way, Charlotte would be there too.
“I don’t know … I’m very busy these days,” she said and turned to him. “What did you do to your ankle?”
“Twisted it, long story. It will be better in a few days. So, will you do it?” She looked torn, so he sat, praying to keep any pleading out of his voice if he had to ask her again.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt …” she said slowly, and paced again.
“Deputy Turner said he’d help out today,” he threw in for good measure. Maybe she’d do it if she knew she wouldn’t be the only one.
“Well, what does a body need two chaperones for? If the deputy is going to be here, then I certainly don’t need to be.”
He picked at a button on his vest. “I think Miss Smith would feel better with another woman, and Tom’s there to help me with my ankle.” He flashed her a smile when she stopped pacing and turned to him. “Hard to stand on it, you see …” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and held his breath, his smile once again in place.
She held her hands together before her. “I don’t know …”
The bell above the door rang and her mother glided in. “Matthew Quinn, is that you? I heard you were back in town!” She noticed his bootless foot resting on a stool. “What’s the matter, is something wrong?”
“I had a small accident yesterday, nothing to worry about. It will be fine in no time, I’m sure.”
“I certainly hope so, I hear you’re getting married.”
He looked directly at Charlotte. She held up a hand. “Not from me, I’d quite forgotten about it when I got home. I didn’t mention it to a soul.”
He smiled. So, she hadn’t run home and told her mother. She hadn’t been the one to set tongues to wagging.
“Oh, I heard it from Mrs. Jorgenson,” Mrs. Davis said. “I have no idea who she heard it from.”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s nothing I’m keeping to myself,” he told them.
Charlotte closed her eyes and looked away. Was that … a hint of sadness in her eyes? Did she not want him to marry? He straightened as best he could in his chair. “Mrs. Davis, don’t you think, if it’s proper to have one chaperone, that it would be more so with two?”
Charlotte shot him a questioning look. What are you doing?
He smiled and bit his lip.
“Oh, of course,” she agreed. “No one can say anything could have happened with two chaperones!”
“My thoughts exactly! Which is why I’ve asked Charlotte and Tom Turner to be chaperones for Miss Smith and myself, this afternoon. You will spare her, won’t you?”
Mrs. Davis looked at him as if he’d given her the golden goose. She’d be privy to everything if Charlotte were present. “Well, I don’t see why not,” she said, then stood erect. “Who else, did you say, is going to be there?”
“Deputy Turner,” Matthew said, a hint of worry in his voice. He watched as she got an odd gleam in her eye. He glanced to Charlotte, who stood, white as a ghost.
“Deputy Tom Turner, you say? Well now, isn’t that fortunate?” She turned to her daughter. “Just the man I’ve been telling Charlotte she ought to get to know.”
Now it was Matthew’s turn to go pale. “What?”
“I think they’d make a fine match, don’t you?” Mrs. Davis cooed.
Matthew’s jaw tightened. “I think that’s for Charlotte to decide.” He glanced at her, and noted her shoulders visibly relax. “After all, if one is going to fall in love the good, old- fashioned way, instead of having it thrust upon them, then shouldn’t she be allowed to choose?”
“Coming from a man with a mail order bride,” Mrs. Davis said with a raised brow.
“One my mother ordered for me. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Well, since your mother went through all that trouble,” Mrs. Davis remarked. “You might as well honor her, and marry the girl.”
Charlotte’s face fell into shock. She recalled how hard her mother tried to get the last two mail order brides out of town. Worse, she helped her! She turned and studied a shelf of books, her face red with shame. She didn’t want Matthew to see it, especially after he just defended her right to choose her own beau.
“Charlotte, you will be having tea this afternoon with Matthew and his betrothed, so make sure you look decent for Mr. Turner.”
Charlotte spun around, but her mother was already leaving, carrying enough self- satisfaction to put a hole in the floor. Her sudden fury with her mother took Charlotte by surprise and she gasped, just as the mercantile’s doors closed. “Ohhhh!”
“I take it you don’t fancy, Mr. Turner?” Matthew asked casually.
“My mother has no right to … to …”
“Tell you who to marry?”
She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “Exactly!”
“Really? Think of how I feel.”
Her face softened. “Oh. Yes, you have … well …”
“A point?”
She went to stand beside his chair. “Don’t you want to get married?”
“Yes, one day, but I want to pick my own bride.”
Charlotte turned, found a chair near the pot-bellied stove, and pulled it along side Matthew’s. “What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can do. Disappoint my mother.”
“But Matthew, that means you’ll be sending that poor girl back!”
“So? She can find another husband somewhere else, can’t she?”
“Oh, Matthew, your folks haven’t told you what happened, have they?”
He adjusted himself in the chair to better look at her. “W
hat are you talking about?”
Charlotte’s face took on a fearful countenance that chilled him. “Both Elle and Summer, they came from the same place your Miss Smith did, New Orleans. Through the Ridgley Mail Order Bride Service.”
“So?”
“There are men, bad men who wait for the older girls to leave the orphanage. They kidnap them as soon as they are forced out, and put them to work in their … brothels.”
Matthew sat up so fast his foot fell off the stool, knocking it over. He grimaced in pain, but didn’t right the stool. Instead he leaned toward Charlotte. “Go on …”
She swallowed. “They … haven’t much chance other than to be a mail order bride. Abbey talks with Elle and Summer a lot, and she told me everything.” Charlotte looked into his eyes, and licked her lips. “A couple of weeks ago, the day of Elle and Spencer’s wedding, a man impersonating a Marshall came to town and took Elle and … myself … and … was taking us somewhere to …” she looked to the floor, “… sell us.”
Matthew sprang to his feet-or foot- in this case. “What?!”
“It’s true, just ask Spencer!”
Matthew fell back into his chair, his jaw slack. He ran a hand through his hair and shoved his spectacles up his nose. “Were you hurt? Charlotte, tell me! Were you hurt?”
She sat back. The look on his face was one of acute … ah … good grief! She didn’t know what his look was! She’d never seen it before and couldn’t put a name to it.
“Charlotte, honey,” he said as he gripped her upper arms. “Did … he … hurt, you?”
“N… no…” She was shaking now, but didn’t know why. Her stomach was doing crazy flips and the room was getting warmer by the second. Matthew’s face was so intense she thought she might faint! And it was over her. Charlotte Davis! The woman men avoided like the plague itself. No man had ever acted like this around her as Matthew was doing now.
Charlotte’s lower lip trembled as she realized what was going on. He was protective over her. Very protective.
Wait a minute! Did he just call her, honey? Something in Charlotte’s belly pooled and warmed, and she feared she’s slide onto the floor.
Matthew realized how he held her, let go, and relaxed back in his chair. “Thank, God.” He sighed in relief. “I’m sorry, I sometimes get excited … about things.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “It’s all right. You should have seen Clayton and Spencer that day.”
“What happened to the scum that took you, and where did he come from, anyway?”
“Clayton and Spencer think he’s connected to a man in New Orleans, one that takes the orphan girls. I guess he didn’t like the fact Elle got away. So, do you see why you can’t send Miss Smith back?”
Matthew sighed again and nodded. Now what was he going to do? He thought to play matchmaker between Miss Smith and Tom Turner, but decided that might not be such a good idea either. What if they didn’t like each other, and how was that to work when he was supposed to be courting her? Telling his mother to stay out of his love life, and sending the girl back was his only option. But how could he, knowing what waited for her in New Orleans? She’d have a much better chance for a good life, here in Nowhere. The question was, with whom?
“And the man who took you?” he asked, his anger rising once again. Maybe getting the chance to punch the man in the nose a hundred times would make him feel better about the ordeal.
She looked at him and took a deep breath. “He’s dead.”
Matthew’s eyes widened.
“Deputy Turner shot him.”
Matthew let loose a long, low, whistle. “I have been away too long.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and looked him directly in the eye. “You have.”
* * *
“I can hardly believe it!” Rose exclaimed and sat on the bed. They were in Summer’s bedroom, looking at the Riley women’s wedding dresses, as Elle told her the story of when she left New Orleans. “You shot him?”
“Well, yes and no,” Elle explained. “Jethro was trying to do it, I … assisted.”
Rose looked to Summer who mouthed, she shot him, before picking up her dress to put it away.
“Mrs. Ridgley never told me how Jethro got hurt, and I didn’t get the chance to ask. When I met him his arm was in a sling. He took me to the train station, but followed me at a distance instead of walking me there.”
“Really?” Summer asked. “And you weren’t accosted by any of Mr. Slade’s men?”
“Mr. Slade?” Rose asked. “Who is he? Is he the reason Mrs. Ridgley had me …”
Summer opened a trunk. “You don’t want to know. Nor need to, now that you’re here. Tell us about Matthew Quinn! We’ve not met him yet.”
“Wait a minute,” Elle chimed in. “What did Mrs. Ridgley have you do?”
Rose could feel herself blush. “She had me pretend I was with child.”
“What?” Elle laughed.
Rose nodded. “I stuffed my petticoats under my dress.”
“Oh my,” Summer added, her face almost as red as Rose’s.
“You want to hear about Matthew Quinn?” Rose sputtered. She really didn’t want to elaborate on the whole, “pregnant with petticoats” story. “After I tell you, I want to hear more about your wild adventures!”
“Wild, yes, adventures … I guess we can call them that, now.” Elle told her. “But at the time, they were frightening.”
“Oh,” Rose said as she took in their faces. “I’m sorry. For someone like me, it all sounds so exciting and romantic, but … for you …”
“Not so much,” Summer finished for her. “Now, about Matthew?”
Rose picked at the lace on Elle’s wedding dress as she admired it. “He’s … okay.”
“Okay?” Elle said and sat next to her. “Is that it? That’s all you have to say about the man you’re going to marry?”
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know anything about him.”
“Yet,” Summer added as she put her dress into the trunk.
“I suppose I’ll find out more this afternoon, when Mr. Riley takes me into town.”
“Call him Clayton,” Summer corrected. “Elle and I are going to town too. We both need a few things for the dresses we’re making for the dance.”
“What dance?” Rose asked.
“The Valentine’s dance. It’s something they hold every year.” Elle explained. “We’ve been working on our dresses for almost a week.”
“Dresses, I’m not sure I want to talk any more about dresses.” Rose commented.
“Didn’t you like ours?” Summer asked.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Rose told her. “Your wedding dresses are beautiful! It’s just that, Mrs. Riley and Mrs. Quinn …”
“Say no more,” Elle told her as she held up a hand. “I know just what they did … they took over, and started planning everything having to do with your wedding for you?”
“Yes!” Rose said breathless. “I thought they’d never stop!”
Summer laughed, before she lowered her voice. “We love our mother in-law, but when it comes to weddings, she wants to be able to plan them all!”
“Oh, mine was exhausting!” Elle added.
“Mine may never happen,” said Rose.
“What?” asked Summer. “What do you mean?”
Rose took a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I don’t’ think Mr. Quinn wants to marry me.”
“Nonsense,” Elle began. “Why would he send away for a mail order bride if he didn’t want to get married?”
“Because he didn’t send away for one.”
“Oh!” Summer’s hands flew to her mouth. “No, don’t tell me …”
“His mother did,” Rose confirmed.
Elle rolled her eyes. “I wonder if Leona had anything to do with it?”
“Leona? Mrs. Riley you mean?” asked Rose.
Summer and Elle both nodded.
“I’d say,” Rose said, as she began to nod with them. “Most defin
itely, yes.”
“Rose, I’m sorry it happened this way,” Summer consoled. “But it all worked out for Elle and me. I’m sure it will work out for you and Matthew too.”
“I don’t’ know, he sounded mighty angry when I showed up at the mercantile. Deputy Turner was more civil to me than Matthew Quinn.”
Elle smiled. “You met Tom Turner?”
“Yes, he … he’s nice.”
Elle’s smile broadened. “Maybe all Mr. Quinn needs is a little prompting. What if he thought Tom Turner was getting sweet on you? Wouldn’t that make him jealous?”
“Elle, don’t think like that,” Summer scolded. “Let things between Rose and Matthew work themselves out natural-like.”
“If things work out natural-like, I don’t think I’ll be married at all,” said Rose. She stared at the floor. “He did have nice eyes…”
“Spencer told me Matthew Quinn wears spectacles,” stated Elle.
Rose looked at her. “Mr. Turner doesn’t.”
Summer and Elle exchanged a quick look. “Maybe we ought to drop in on your visit this afternoon,” Summer suggested.
“Yes, just to make sure … you’re properly chaperoned,” added Elle.
Rose looked at them both. “Mr. Quinn already arranged for a chaperone.”
“Who?” Elle asked.
“Charlotte Davis.”
“Charlotte Davis!” the girls cried together.
“What is it with this Charlotte Davis? Why doesn’t any one like her?”
“Oh, Rose,” Summer began. “The stories we could tell.”
“Now we have to come this afternoon!” Elle said.
Rose looked up to the ceiling, and blew a curl out of her face. She didn’t have the heart to tell them Tom Turner would be there too. Hopefully, she’d be able to concentrate on getting to know her future husband better. But with Tom Tuner in the room, it might prove harder than she thought.
Four
The Quinn’s parlor was small, but cozy. Rose and Charlotte utilized the love seat, Matthew and Tom Turner each in a chair opposite them, a small table between the four. Mrs. Quinn brought in a tea service and set it on the table. “You all have a nice visit. I’ll be upfront minding the store and waiting for Mr. Quinn to get home.
