by Amelia Rose
“Would you smell that air?” the woman called out to no one in particular, even though Wyatt, Pryor, and Gretchen stood close enough for conversation. “I tell ya, there’s nothing like it back east. The city? Pshaw, not with its dirty air and grimy streets. There’s no air like this back in the city, that’s for sure!”
She stepped over to them after the attendant had retrieved her things, piling them on top of each other on the wooden sidewalk beside the mercantile. She smiled and shook each person’s hand one by one, grinning as she spoke.
“Hi! The name’s Millie Carter, I just came out here from Boston,” she said in a funny accent like none that any of them had ever heard. They were too surprised to speak for a moment, but it was Gretchen who finally remembered her manners and introduced herself. She introduced the other two gentlemen, then waited for Millie to explain.
“My paper says right here that I’m to meet a Mr. Wyatt Flynn,” she said proudly, holding out her letters. Wyatt visibly paled and took a step back, shaking his head slightly at Pryor’s questioning glance. Pryor came forward, dragging Wyatt by the fabric below his shirt collar.
“This is Mr. Flynn,” he explained, grinning broadly and nudging Wyatt with his elbow until he did the same.
“Well, Mr. Flynn, my future husband!” Millie cried. “How thoughtful of you to be waiting on me when I hadn’t even told you when I’d be here.”
Wyatt stammered for a moment, his attention diverted by the boisterous woman in front of him. “But you said you’d be here on the train,” he began hesitantly, leaving off as he pointed to the empty tracks behind him as though they held some mysterious answer.
“Oh, I decided to leave off with the train. Train travel is fine and all, but the way to really experience this country is to get out there in it, to let your hands and feet be a part of it,” she said proudly, holding up a fist as though it still contained some of the dirt from the frontier.
“But Ms. Carter, you should naw have gone to such an expense,” Gretchen began, somewhat appalled that a lady rode such a great distance in a carriage with strangers.
“It was no expense at all!” Millie answered, shaking her purse. “I didn’t work all those years in that sweaty factory, fighting the manager’s grabby hands and the other workers for their shifts, just to have to ride in some old train car. I used my passage fare, provided by Mr. Flynn for the train, then added the rest of the cost for the coach out of my earnings. I knew it was the only way I could really see this country. And here I am!”
Millie held her arms out wide and turned in a sweeping circle, gesturing to all the land that surrounded them. It was off-putting to find a woman so unaware of her own frailty, but even Pryor could see the logic in her words. This trip by coach may be the only time she ever traveled so far again, God willing, and it was equal parts odd and impressive that she would be so bold about her journey.
“My, that’s… quite ingenious of you!” Gretchen said, captivated. She herself had snuck off from home in the middle of the night, leaving Ireland behind as she made her way to New York by ship, so who was she to decide a lady had no place traveling to the frontier by coach?
Wyatt, on the other hand, wore a dark scowl. He’d only just laid eyes on this woman, but already his mind had counted more ways than he had fingers that she was nothing like his Anna Mae. He had specifically instructed the agency in what type of woman he was looking for, but this… this had to be a joke.
“Well, come on then. Go on with the O’Conners, they’ll see you home.” Wyatt turned on his boot heel and stalked off in the other direction after ordering Millie to head to the cabin. Pryor and Gretchen looked after him for a moment in shock before turning to Millie, prepared to politely ignore his inexcusable behavior.
“He’s awfully romantic, isn’t he?” Millie said, laughing. “I knew it would be unnerving to meet a stranger for marriage, but I had no idea that he’d be a complete horse’s ass about it!” She looked completely unruffled by the way Wyatt had behaved, but Gretchen was horrified by her assessment of the man who was to become her legal husband, the head of her family and her affairs.
“Oh, no, Mr. Flynn isn’t usually anything like that,” she began, but Millie was shaking her head.
“You don’t have to make excuses for him, dear. He’s his own person, and he owns his own behavior. I’m sure he’ll come around to the idea once he settles in. After all, it’s hard when someone twists your arm and makes you get married.”
“I beg your pardon?” Gretchen asked innocently, but Pryor cleared his throat and looked away. That wasn’t the way it had happened at all!
“Yes,” Millie continued, unbothered by Pryor’s uncomfortable expression. “His father. Mr. Flynn told me all about how his father insists he get married and set up a household to keep his land.”
Pryor and Gretchen looked at each other, their mouths hanging open for a long moment before they remembered themselves and recovered. Again, Millie seemed not to notice, or seemed too chipper to care.
“I see,” Gretchen said breathlessly. “Well, let’s get ya on home. I’m sure you’ll wish to bathe properly after a journey such as that one. We’ll have ya fixed up and feeling like new in no time!”
She linked her arm through Millie’s and led her toward the wagon where Kieran already waited, Millie’s trunks already having been loaded into the back. Gretchen shot Pryor a scathing look over her shoulder, clearly demanding that he get to the bottom of this.
Chapter Six
“What in the world was the meaning of that?” Pryor demanded in an angry hiss, catching up to Wyatt and jerking him back by his arm.
“The meaning of what? She’s here, I met her, and now I’m headed home. I fulfilled my obligation, so let go of me!” Wyatt pulled his arm back out of Pryor’s grasp angrily and continued walking to where his horse stood, patiently munching oats from the general store’s trough.
“And that’s how you think you should greet her? I’m surprised at you, Flynn. You’re not the man I thought you were.” Pryor spat on the ground almost as if for emphasis. “Then there’s this business of telling her you had to get married to keep your farm? What’s that all about?”
“That’s my business, not yours!”
“You just made it my business when I had to cover up your lie! Now turn around and face me like a man and explain yourself!” Pryor stepped in front of Wyatt and stared him down, his breath coming faster as he thought about the possibility of having to fight this man. “You weren’t a no-good liar and I’ve never heard you say so much as a cross word to a lady, and today of all days is when you choose to become someone you’re not?”
Wyatt seethed. Instead of backing down, he stepped closer, placing himself toe to toe with Pryor. “Call me a liar one more time, and I’ll see to it you don’t walk for a month,” he hissed in a quiet way that was so filled with threat that it was a tangible feeling between them.
“Do it, Flynn, throw the first punch. I’d love an excuse to whip your tail in front of this whole town. With any luck, your new wife will still be here to get a front row seat and find out what a low coward you are, a coward who would treat a lady that way.”
“What kind of lady is she, anyway? A lady wouldn’t take off on a stagecoach with Lord only knows who, going on for days and days with other menfolk riding with her!” Wyatt fired back, and Pryor saw through just one layer of his façade. Wyatt had known Anna Mae since they were little kids learning to read together in the one-room schoolhouse; now this Millie, Wyatt had no idea who she was or what her past was like. But that didn’t let him off the hook for being a liar.
“That’s your cheap excuse for not liking her? She took a stage coach instead of the train? And did you think the train car was gonna be full of nothing but women all the way from New York? Train or coach, it makes no difference. She was traveling all this way to see you, remember? If she wanted to dally with some other man, she could’a done that back home and saved herself the trip!”
&nb
sp; Pryor flushed red to the top of his scalp at the way they were discussing a female. Moira would tan his hide if she could hear him, and he silently thanked the Lord that she was laid up in the bed with their new baby. Wyatt didn’t answer, but he looked away from his friend’s steely gaze.
“Look, Wyatt,” Pryor said quietly, aware that their argument had brought some prying eyes out into the open. “I know this is hard. I can’t even imagine all you’ve been through. But you have to give her a chance. She’s come all this way, and it’s not her fault you decided not to tell her the whole story.”
“I don’t have to explain myself to anybody. And I sure don’t need to go telling people about my Anna Mae. They don’t deserve to even know her, let alone pry into her life,” he answered defiantly.
“Well, if you don’t tell Miss Carter, I will. And that’s a promise.” Pryor turned to go, but Wyatt shouted after him.
“You don’t got any right to go talking about Anna Mae!”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I dug her grave, if you remember correctly, and it’s my wife who left home for days on end to care for her until the last minute she drew breath. Your dead wife is wearing my wife’s dress, a dress made from the cloth I paid for by working my land. And who do you think has been feeding your young’uns all this time? I’d say that does give me every right to tell this new lady what she’s getting herself into, since you haven’t decided to do it. Did you even tell Miss Carter you have children?”
Wyatt didn’t answer, and Pryor swore under his breath before kicking at the ground in front of him.
“I don’t have to go telling people my business, and those children are my business. Anyone who wants to know about ‘em can come out here and look me in the eye first!” Wyatt proclaimed, crossing his arms defiantly in front of his chest as if that somehow settled it.
“Well, good. Because Miss Carter has done that. So I’d say you have some explaining to do before the next train comes!” Pryor shot back. “And you either tell her the truth about Anna Mae before sundown, or I will!”
“Who’s Anna Mae?” a bright voice called out behind him.
Chapter Seven
“I said, who’s Anna Mae?” Millie repeated, looking between the two men for an explanation. Instead of answering, they stared each other down, each daring the other to speak. It was Pryor who broke the silence first.
“Anna Mae is Mr. Flynn’s wife,” he said cautiously, choosing those exact words purposely so she would know exactly what kind of situation she’d fallen into. His words hit their mark, and he was pained by the look of surprised hurt on her face.
“Your wife?” she whispered. “But… I came all this way, I bought the supplies the agency told me I’d need… and you have a wife? How could you be so cruel?”
“You don’t know anything!” Wyatt shouted at her, causing Mille to recoil slightly before she recovered herself and stood up taller as if to defy his anger. Pryor shoved him backwards with a push to his chest, then stepped in front of Millie.
“You will not speak that way to a lady, or I’ll have O’Conner throw you in jail for the night. Do you hear me? You raise your voice to her or to any other woman one more time, and I’ll see to it that you learn a lesson it will take you months to forget.”
Pryor turned to Millie and apologized for the cross words. “I think it would be best if we all went somewhere quiet and sat down to talk before even another minute passes.” He held out his arm toward the small diner Gretchen had opened adjacent to Jorgenson’s store. Wyatt turned and stomped off, not waiting on them to catch up to him. Pryor smiled grimly at Millie, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he envisioned the very real possibility that he’d take a horse whip to Flynn before sundown.
The three of them had to duck their heads to enter the low building because, like the store next door, it had been dug out on the inside so that it dropped a few steps. The shape of the building allowed it to stay warm in the winter with the help of only a woodstove, but kept it from being blown about by the winds that drove down from the mountains during every storm. Only one other person sat at one of the three wooden tables inside, nursing a hot cup of chicory and staring at the tabletop. Gretchen recognized him as the younger man who had taken the stage coach with Millie, but didn’t want to intrude on his solitude.
“Let’s sit here, shall we?” Pryor said, but truth be told, he wasn’t offering anyone a choice. He waited until Millie was seated, then shoved Wyatt down with a firm push on his shoulder before joining him on the bench facing the newcomer. Gretchen hovered nearby, unsure of whether or not she would be welcome in their conversation. Pryor caught her eye and nodded for her to come over so Millie would not feel uncomfortable.
“Now, where do we start?” he asked, but his question was met with only silence. “Okay then, Wyatt, why don’t you tell Miss Carter why you’ve invited her out here?”
“She knows why she’s here, apparently everyone thinks I need a wife!” he growled, not looking in Millie’s direction. She blinked in surprise before looking between Wyatt and Pryor several times.
“And you don’t think you do, because you already have one?” she demanded in a saucy tone, rapping her knuckles against the table top to get him to look at her. Wyatt looked up sharply and frowned.
“I told you I’m not talking about Anna Mae, Pryor,” he warned his friend in a hushed voice. Pryor held up his hands for quiet.
“Well, because you didn’t see fit to be honest about the state of affairs, someone has to. You can’t have poor Miss Carter here wondering what she’s doing here.” He turned to Millie and opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped momentarily when Wyatt shoved back from the table and went to pace the length of the room some yards away.
Pryor gave Millie as brief and respectful a rundown of the situation as he could. She watched his face as he spoke, a wide range of emotions playing across her features as she heard the sad tale. She looked ready to bolt for the door and run all the way to the next town to catch the train when she heard about the children. All the time he spoke, Wyatt paced back and forth like a captured animal, knowing that Millie deserved to hear the truth but wanting to punch MacAteer in the mouth for spreading his personal pain around.
“I see,” Millie said quietly as she sat back against the ladder back chair, letting go of the breath she’d been holding. She looked down at her gloved hands in her lap, watching them twist her handkerchief of their own free will without even realizing she was doing it.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Pryor asked, amazed. He was prepared to try to bar the door to keep her from running screaming through the wide street that dissected New Hope, but instead she was oddly quiet.
“What else is there to say, Mr. MacAteer? Mr. Flynn has been through a horrible ordeal, and I can understand why he might not have chosen to divulge it all to a woman he’d never met, writing it on scraps of paper to send through the post.” She looked around the room before continuing. “I do wish I’d known about the children, though.”
“Now, Miss Carter, they’re darlings, I promise. You won’t have a bit of trouble out of ‘em…”
“Oh, no, I only meant I would have liked to have brought them some small gift for the first time they met me. It’s such a shame, all that they’ve been through, then to have a strange woman show up? A doll or a poppet, maybe a bit of store-bought candy, might have soothed their hurts.”
Wyatt stopped his pacing, but didn’t turn around to face them. It gave him pause to know that this stranger, someone who, by all rights, could have been furious at him for the trick he’d pulled in not being completely honest, was only thinking of bringing his children a token of some kind. She didn’t seem to be put out that he had children, only that she hadn’t known about them.
Instead of responding, he shook it off and resumed his angry stalking. She had no right to talk about his kids, to even care about his kids. She was nobody to them, and he hadn’t even told them anyone was coming,
in case…
“That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Carter, but I’m sure your presence will be all the gift the children need. It’s been a long time since they’ve had someone at home with a woman’s touch. They’ll just be glad of your presence.” Pryor cast a quick look at Wyatt and met his fuming gaze with a glare of his own, openly daring him to argue.
“That’s kind of you, Mr.—” she said, letting her response trail off. Pryor looked chagrined.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I never even introduced myself. I’ve just heard so much about you that I just felt like we knew each other. I’m Pryor MacAteer, and you’ll get to know my wife, Moira, as soon as she’s able…”
“Oh, she’s not taken ill, has she?” Millie cried, leaning forward with genuine interest. He smiled at her concern.
“No, no, she’s actually very well, thank you. But she’s just had another baby!” Pryor explained, then braced himself for the onslaught of emotional congratulations that would surely follow from someone as exuberant as this woman. Millie didn’t disappoint, as her eyes lit up and her entire face reflected a giant smile while she clapped her hands excitedly.
“Oh, Mr. MacAteer, a baby! How wonderful!” she gushed. “Is it your first?” He shook his head and opened his mouth to explain, but she broke in before he could respond. “Oh, then you have others? How marvelous! A big family then, with lots of little ones running around the place. Do you and Mrs. MacAteer also have a farm? I bet the children are great fun on a farm!”
Pryor was reeling from the rapid fire style of conversation Millie employed, and he started to wonder how the other passengers on the coach had fared with the weeks over overland travel with an excitable, anxious woman such as herself. He immediately put aside that thought as being unkind when he remembered his own excitement at traveling west, although he was sure he was able to keep it more reservedly contained.
