Martha (The Marriage Market Book 5)

by Stevie MacFarlane

  Suddenly a loud crash drew her attention elsewhere and she hurried up the stairs to see what the commotion was. Elinore was dragging a trunk down from the attic, swearing heartily.

  “What are you doing?” Martha asked. “Let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” Ellie replied, puffing the hair off her face. “I’m packing.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “Clayton has asked me to return to Portland with him,” she grunted out as the two women struggled to get the heavy trunk into Ellie’s room. Finally, they maneuvered it to the foot of her bed and collapsed.

  “He has?” Martha asked in surprise.

  “Well, it was more of an order,” Elinore admitted with a blush. “He doesn’t want me involved in any more of this temperance nonsense,” she sighed. “Apparently he’s afraid it might hurt his business, at least with the local customers. He’s absolutely forbidden me to participate and has even gone so far as to demand that I return with him to his home. He’s promised to hire a chaperone so there won’t be any talk. I swear, I had no idea the man was so stubborn.”

  Martha hid her smile. A less stubborn man would be putty in Ellie’s hands.

  “So when are you leaving?’

  “He wants me ready by this afternoon. Heaven’s, he’s barely given me time to pack.”

  “My goodness,” Martha replied. “Everyone is leaving.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well Jane and Clara never came home last night and Mary’s gone and run off with the Jordon’s chef.”

  “Mary?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake. I must say I’m not surprised by Clara, after that spectacle she made of herself last night, but where in the world could Jane be?”

  “I have no idea,” Martha said, shaking her head. “I imagine she’ll show up sometime with an explanation.”

  “I should hope so,” Ellie sniffed. “You would think a woman her age would be more responsible.”

  “Do you want me to help you pack?” Martha offered.

  “No, it won’t take me long. I’m only taking my nicest things. The rest you can donate to charity. If that man is in such a hurry, he can replace what I’ve ‘forgotten,’” she continued with a grin. “It will serve him right.”

  “Will you be back for mine and Ethan’s wedding?” Martha asked.

  “I hope so. He can’t keep me prisoner, at least I don’t think so,” she said, chewing on her fingernail. “No, he can’t. I’m sure of it. I imagine marriage to him will be quite an adjustment. I’m not a woman who appreciates being ordered around. I hope he’s up to the challenge.”

  I hope you are, Martha thought as she left Ellie sorting through her dresses.

  Going back downstairs, she glanced at the clock. Gracious it was nearly 11:00 and still no sign of Jane or Clara. Perhaps she should ride into town and confront Mr. Armstrong or maybe she should go up the mountain and ask Ethan for assistance. It would look a lot better if he were the one to enter The Bucket of Blood.

  Or she could go to her shop and see what she could overhear. If the walls were as thin as Clara claimed, she might hear Clara’s voice and she could go in and drag her out, or rescue her if she were being held against her will.

  It was possible she was overreacting. Last night there had been a hellacious storm after Ethan saw her home. In fact, they stayed so long on the stoop kissing she doubted he made it home before being drenched. The thunder and lightning shook the house. Maybe Clara and Jane hadn’t been able to get home and had taken a room at the Payne. Anything was possible.

  Thankfully, this morning there was a trace of weak sunshine struggling through the clouds. If she hurried along, she might be able to make it to town before another burst of rain. Yes, she decided, there was no sense getting anyone else involved if she could help it.

  An hour later, she ignored the disgruntled comments from men entering the saloon as they glared in her direction and let herself into her shop. Apparently word traveled quickly, for they seemed to think ‘no women better tell them when they could have a nip or two.’

  Once inside, she quickly locked the door behind her. Taking off her coat and gloves, she struggled to clear an area toward the back of the storage room she figured would be close to the location of Lucas’s office. Quietly she stood, laying her ear against the wall. She held her breath.

  “Go and get the judge,” she heard Lucas order. “And be quick about it.”

  “But he was here until late last night,” a man’s muffled voice replied, “Said something about celebrating the doc’s marriage. I doubt he’s even out of bed.”

  “Then wake him up. I’ve got her clothes, but I have no confidence she won’t march out of here wearing a bed sheet. Hurry now!”

  Oh dear, Martha thought, stepping away from the wall. Doctor Martin had married last night, and with no fanfare at all. Poor Jane would be crushed. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t come home. Now it looked as though Mr. Armstrong was determined to force Clara into marriage. She had to do something.

  Snatching her coat, she rushed to the door and let herself out, just as the barkeep was running down the boardwalk. Skirting piles of horseshit and puddles, she crossed the muddy street and raced to Marshal Hadley’s office.

  “You have to come quickly, Marshal,” she cried as she nearly fell through the doorway of the jail. Gasping for breath, she held her hand to her chest.

  “What is it, Miss Jonas?” Cole asked as he rose from his desk.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think Mr. Armstrong is going to force Clara to marry him,” she squeaked out.

  “What makes you think that?” Cole demanded. “Lucas is an honorable man and I can’t imagine him being unkind to a woman.”

  “Clara left with him last night and didn’t come home,” she hissed, looking around. “We were all having dinner at Ethan’s mother’s restaurant and Clara may have had a little too much wine.”

  “May have had,” Cole snorted. “The way I heard it she was drunk as a skunk and had to be carried out over his shoulder.”

  “Well, that is true, but Clara doesn’t have much experience with spirits,” Martha insisted, defending her friend.

  “Then she shouldn’t run around spouting off about the evils of liquor.”

  “Maybe so, Marshal, but she still needs our help. Now are you going to assist me or not?” she demanded.

  “What makes you think Clara is with him?”

  “As I said, she didn’t come home last night,” Martha sighed. “Look, I don’t think we have much time. Mr. Armstrong just sent his man to fetch the judge.”

  “That could be about anything. He might have a legal problem. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with Clara. Have you checked the Payne? He could have gotten her a room there,” Cole said, sitting back down. “You can’t just come in here accusing someone of a crime with no evidence, and, in fact, it may not even be a crime. Maybe Clara said she would marry him. How do you know any of this? Did you at least go and talk to Lucas?”

  “No, I was listening from my shop with my ear against the wall,” Martha admitted, feeling her face heat.

  “A fine way for a lady to act,” Cole snorted. “Come back when you have some proof something underhanded is going on,” he barked.

  “By then it may be too late,” Martha lamented.

  “Yes, and the worst that could happen is your friend Clara ends up married to a very reliable man who will provide for her and keep her from getting her head bashed in some night when she’s managed to gather a crowd of disgruntled wives to carry banners and torches down the street,” Cole sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I have real problems here. I’m trying to track down some missing children and the woman who was supposed to be caring for them. If your friend spent the night with a man and is now under pressure to marry him, that’s her own foolishness, come to bear. I know, it almost happened to me once and I have a hard time working up any sympathy fo
r her.”

  “Well, I can see I’ll get no help from you, Marshal Hadley,” Martha snapped. “I guess if it were a man being forced to marry against his will, it would be a different story,” she concluded with a sniff.

  “If a man spent the night with an unmarried woman and her daddy was holding a shotgun to his back as the preacher helped him say his ‘I do’s,’ I wouldn’t do a damn thing to interfere, Miss Jonas. I figure your friend is in the same predicament.”

  Cole cringed when Martha slammed the door so hard the windows rattled. It seemed to him the brides brought a whole passel of trouble with them when they traveled to Seattle. The more he saw of them, the more grateful he was for his Charlotte. She was an angel compared to some of them, and if it weren’t for her, well, he was of a mind that Hugh Jordon should have been horse-whipped for putting that advertisement in the paper.

  Martha felt much the same way by the time she left the Jordon offices. Both Hugh and Sam didn’t seem to have much sympathy for Clara.

  Hugh readily admitted Amelia had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past week and Sam stated quite blatantly how happy he was Effie wasn’t with child so he could show her in no uncertain terms just what he thought of her plans to picket the saloon and other establishments in town that served liquor.

  In fact, they both knew Ethan had finally taken Martha to task and thought it was about time.

  “I would remind you, Martha,” Sam said with a slight smile, “that Ethan would not have risen to foreman were he not a man of his word. Now, he has given us his assurance that this temperance business is over. I hope for your sake he’s right, for I imagine if he were to find his wife was still involved, it would not go well for you.”

  “My advice to you,” Hugh added, “is to stay out of this thing between Clara and Lucas. I think you will only bring trouble down upon yourself and Clara could do a lot worse. From what I understand, she was quite drunk last night when he removed her from public view and the criticism that would surely have followed. If he didn’t paddle her bottom the moment she was sober, he should have.”

  “Mr. Jordon,” Martha snapped. “If you recall, Clara came here to marry you! Now you’re willing to stand by while she is forced to marry a man she doesn’t love.”

  “I don’t think she loved me when she boarded that train back east,” Hugh replied, looking at Sam. “Nevertheless, you do have a point. I am responsible for her well-being, so in the interest of fairness, Sam and I will accompany you to The Bucket of Blood, just to make sure things are on the up and up.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows, shook his head and rose with a sigh.

  “Ah, Jonah,” Hugh said with a laugh as the other man entered the office. “You’re just in time.”

  “Just in time for what?” Jonah asked, looking at Martha’s red face.

  “Just in time to witness a wedding if what Miss Jonas says is true,” Hugh replied. “Come along, Martha. Let’s get this over with.”

  Spinning on her heel, Martha marched from the office well ahead of the men. Barbarians, the lot of them, she thought as she hurried from the building. It was at times like this when she wished she were more like Effie and carried a pistol.

  Chapter 13

  Clara’s head was pounding. Even her eyes hurt as she squinted at the judge and tried to comprehend his words.

  “Well do you or don’t you?” he demanded.

  His voice seemed incredibly cranky to Clara and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what he was so angry about. In fact, she didn’t understand anything about this morning so far.

  “Do I or don’t I what?” she asked, rubbing her temple.

  “Do you take Lucas Armstrong to be your husband?”

  “Why would I want to do that?” she asked with a yawn.

  “Well, it seems to me that when a young woman of supposed quality wakes up naked in a man’s bed, she might want to make it legal as soon as possible,” the judge drawled sarcastically. “Now, Lucas here is prepared to do what’s right and proper by you, so why don’t you just say yes so I can go back to bed. I have court this evening and I’d like to get a little sleep.”

  “Yes, Clara,” Lucas added smoothly. “Why don’t you be a good girl for once and cooperate?”

  “Huh?” Clara asked, looking around and noticing for the first time where she was. She also lifted the sheet and seeing only her chemise and bloomers let out an ear piercing scream fit to wake the dead.

  “You rotten bastard,” she hissed at Lucas, glaring at him. Her face felt hot and she wondered if her head was going to explode. Lowering her voice until it was a tolerable whisper, she continued. “You did this on purpose,” she accused.

  “Now wait just a minute, little woman. I offered you a genuine proposal of marriage. It wasn’t my fault you got intoxicated last night and passed out. Nor was it my fault you suddenly seemed full of passion once we got here and enticed me into bed with you. I’m willing to do the honorable thing, as that’s the kind of man I am,” he crowed with a smile. “You just need to agree.”

  “I’ll never marry you now,” Clara ground out between her teeth, reaching for a small china dog on his nightstand and throwing it at him as hard as she could.

  Lucas ducked and it shattered against the wall behind him.

  “Now, darlin’,” he cooed grinning, his Texas accent making itself well known. “I don’t know what you’re fussin’ about. It’s not like we didn’t have a grand ole time, at least that’s what you said last night.”

  “I never said any such thing,” she screeched, immediately grabbing her head and moaning pitifully.

  “Sugar, don’t get yourself all worked up,” Lucas advised. “The judge is here to make everything right, if you’ll just say I do.” Moving close to the bed, he took her hand and started patting it.

  Clara threw back the sheet and made a dive for him, her hands reaching for his thick hair as though she’d like to rip every strand of it out.

  Judge Creighton made no effort to look away from the scantily clad young woman who seemed more inclined to murder Lucas Armstrong than marry him. She was a pretty little thing, even if she was a touch too opinionated and proud for his tastes.

  Lucas managed to catch her before she tumbled head first off his bed and the judge had a clear view when Lucas smacked her bottom and it bloomed pink beneath her thin lawn drawers.

  “Settle down, Clara,” Lucas warned, setting her on her feet and yanking the sheet from the bed to wrap around her.

  “The hell I will,” she yelled back, staring up at him with fire in her eyes.

  Hell, Lucas was beginning to doubt he was going to win this one. There was nothing on her person that would indicate they’d spent the night in each other’s arms, making love. He should at least have rubbed his beard against her cheek and neck, giving her whisker burn, but he hadn’t been able to trust himself. If he’d gotten that close, he would likely have felt compelled to taste her berry red nipples and then who knew how much will power he’d have had.

  No, instead he’d been a gentleman and spent the night in his chair, plotting how he was going to convince her to marry him. He needed to leave for Texas soon and he couldn’t with a clear conscience leave her here unattended. She was just the kind of woman who would quickly get into trouble and he didn’t fancy coming back to find his saloon burned to the ground or the little woman he intended to marry injured.

  He was running out of both time and ideas. When the door suddenly burst open and he saw his friends, he smiled. Thank God, reinforcements!

  “Sam, Hugh, Jonah,” he said, keeping an arm around Clara as she struggled to get away. “I’m glad you’re here, Martha. Perhaps you can talk some sense into this stubborn little woman.”

  “Martha,” Clara pleaded. “Help me. He’s trying to force me into marrying him.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” Lucas insisted sternly, giving Clara a small shake. “I’m simply trying to do the respectable thing and save her reputation as well.
After all, she did spend the entire night in my bed,” he said with a satisfied grin.

  “Clara,” Martha scolded, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I knew you should never have had so much wine last night. I hardly slept a wink worrying about you. Why didn’t you come home?”

  “I don’t know,” Clara sighed. “I don’t remember much about last night at all,” she admitted.

  “So you did sleep in Mr. Armstrong’s bed?”

  “I guess so. At least it looks that way,” Clara said, blushing fiercely.

  “Is that all that happened?” Martha asked gently.

  “I’m not sure,” Clara whispered back.

  “Lucas, we’d like a word with you, in private,” Hugh said, trying to avoid looking directly at Clara in her state of dishabille.

  “Certainly, let’s step into the sitting room,” Lucas offered, releasing Clara. “Stay put,” he ordered, fixing her with a stern stare.

  Clara nodded and he walked to the door, opening it and ushering the other men out.

  “You did not take advantage of that girl?” Sam demanded as soon as they were gathered in the other room.

  “Don’t be a dolt. Of course not. I slept in the chair,” Lucas insisted as he poured four shots of bourbon.

  “Then why are you making her believe you…” Jonah asked with a frown.

  “It’s the only thing I could think of to get her to marry me.”

  “And you’re so set on marrying her why?” Hugh asked, sipping his drink.

  “There are a number of reasons,” Lucas said. “First and foremost, I believe I’m in love with her, even though I want to string her up half the time. She’s blunt and opinionated and sassy as can be. On the other hand, she’s as cute as a button and I think in time she’ll outgrow some of her radical ideas.”

  Suddenly Sam, Hugh and Jonah were all laughing. When they’d managed to recover, Sam took the lead.