Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection

by Davis, Susan Page; Dietze, Susanne; Franklin, Darlene

  Mae cast her a sympathetic look.

  Caroline took the spoon from Mr. Woodson and handed it back to Mae. “Henry and Leonard, we’re sending you on errands, and if you’re still arguing when you get back then you’ll each get to chop wood.”

  If there was anything the boys hated worse than the kitchen, it was chopping wood, stacking it, and bringing it in. They quieted. Then she gave them each a list. “If you fill your list successfully, then you may go fishing.”

  “Hurrah!” The two boys raced out the door.

  Now with Mae, Mr. Woodson, and Deanna, the large kitchen became hushed.

  “Tea, anyone?” Caroline went to the tea tin and opened it. Amazing how she’d come to enjoy the beverage so much since Barden had arrived.

  Woodson looked up from paring some carrots and shook his head.

  Mae smiled from where she sat kneading bread. “I had mine after we finished cleaning up from lunch.”

  The clink of a large spoon against the side of a crockery bowl accompanied Deanna’s, “Yes, please.”

  A tray of cookie dough circles, ready to be placed in the oven, bore evidence to Deanna’s productivity that afternoon.

  “You’ve certainly earned it.” Caroline smiled at Deanna, who averted her gaze. “I’ve never seen you work so hard.”

  Suddenly her younger sister burst into tears and then ran outside.

  “Better go after her.” Mae cast Caroline a sympathetic look.

  She found Deanna seated on the bench, head bent over, sobbing into her uplifted apron.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Deanna sniffed, and lifted her face. “They … aren’t …”

  “Who?”

  “Virginia … Alvin.” A shuddering sigh shook Deanna’s shoulders.

  “They aren’t what?”

  “Coming back.” Deanna resumed sobbing.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re not coming back here!”

  Caroline stiffened. “What do you mean? They’re only gone until tomorrow night.”

  Deanna shook her head hard and then closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

  Grabbing her sister’s arm, Caroline gently squeezed. “Deanna, tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “Army.”

  “The soldiers left.”

  Her sister nodded vigorously. “With them.”

  “Virginia and Alvin went with the army. I knew that, but it’s because they were all traveling in the same direction.”

  “No!”

  Dizziness suddenly blurred Caroline’s vision as understanding dawned on her. “They intend to go with the army then—to the fort?”

  “Alvin is joining the army.” Deanna fished a handkerchief out and blew her nose. “I don’t know what Virginia intends.”

  Oh dear. Anger and concern pummeled each other for her attention. “Our sister off with all those men? How could they do that?”

  “I’m—not sure the captain knows.” Deanna wiped her cheeks with her hand. “I should have told you earlier, but Virginia told me not to. She called me a baby and said I spoil all her plans, but you know I don’t!”

  “It’s all right. It’s good you told me.” Caroline stood, heart hammering. “We’ve got to go after them.”

  “I don’t know about that. They may hate you if you drag them back here.”

  Caroline crossed her arms. “Why do you say that?”

  “They just want their own lives, Sis, not what Pa wanted for them. Or what you want. Which is basically just what Pa said to do.”

  What about my heavenly Father? What would He say? Barden was beginning to rub off on her.

  “Let’s find Barden and ask him to ride after them with Joel and some of his men.”

  “What if they won’t come?” Deanna brushed her tears away.

  “We’ll have to leave that to Barden and the men to help decide.” And to God.

  The long ride back, alone, gave Barden new respect for men who spent most of their days in a saddle. But he had nothing to complain about. He’d tried, and he’d failed. But Barden did have a peace about it. Not that he’d blame Caroline for being furious. And hurt. And a multitude of other emotions. Those two siblings had manipulated Barden and lied to Caroline. At least they’d apologized for those two sins. Lorraine, on the other hand, justified her actions, stating that she was the eldest sibling and should be making family decisions.

  Sheriff Ingram rode up to him as Barden neared town. “Just you?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Abigail has been consoling Caroline all afternoon.”

  “Thank the mayor for me.”

  “What happened?”

  “Those two think they are sufficiently grown up, and apparently the army agrees.” And their eldest sister. Barden ached from head to toe, but mostly he hurt for what this would do to Caroline.

  Ingram exhaled loudly. “That boy has been talking of nothing else but soldiering since I met him after arriving in town.”

  Barden gave a curt laugh. “Mrs. Martinchek signed off for him.”

  “Did Joel know?”

  “Nope.” Barden was beginning to sound like a Yank.

  “And Virginia?”

  “She’s offered a teaching position at the fort. And she has a young private besotted with her.”

  “Sure was good to see that girl smiling these past few days. Wasn’t sure she could crack a grin.” Sheriff Ingram’s eyebrows knit together. “Abigail has been concerned for her.”

  “Keep us all in your prayers.” Us. He had begun to see himself as a part of the Tumbleston family.

  “You know it.” He wheeled his horse around and accompanied Barden back to the inn, the horses’ hooves producing the only sounds.

  Town was closed up for the night, with a few shop proprietors straggling home.

  The two men split at the alley beside the inn. Barden would take the horse back to the stables after he’d spoken with Caroline. He directed the mare to the trough, dismounted, and tied her to the hitching rail. After taking a few steps onto the boardwalk, he paused at the inn’s front door. He surveyed the property and then scanned the street before entering the building, which held the lingering scent of roast pork. His stomach rumbled.

  One couple sat at the table in the middle of the room. Birdy Green and her suitor, Drew Cooper. Wouldn’t that be something if the two married, leaving the town in need of a teacher after Virginia had already departed? Barden nodded to the couple as he passed. He rubbed his neck.

  Woodson lingered between the kitchen and stairs, worry lines clouding his brow. “Caroline is upstairs. Mae brought her up some more chamomile tea.”

  Deanna rushed out of the kitchen. She looked at Barden and then beyond. “Where are Virginia and Alvin?”

  He shook his head. “Would you kindly request your sister’s presence?”

  How many stories had this old bench heard? Caroline ran her hand over the dark metal scrollwork, cool to her touch. Barden’s handsome face held regret, concern, and something else.

  “Thank God my brother and sister are all right.” When a tabby cat chased a mouse down the alley, she flinched. “I can’t believe they left like that.”

  “A thousand pardons.”

  “It’s not your fault, Barden.” His explanation of what had happened assured her that he’d done all in his power to convince Virginia and Alvin to return, as had the two notes he’d carried with him.

  “I wonder, though, why you thought I’d have encouraged such behavior, Caroline?” He rubbed his thumb over the soft flesh of her wrist, distracting her from her sorrow and disappointment. “Not even giving you a fare-thee-well.” His brow crinkled, and he frowned, leaning forward, elbow on knee.

  “For one thing, what you said about following God’s will. And that perhaps this was what was right for them.”

  He straightened. “The other reason?”

  “I … I heard you with Melissa and Alan yesterday.” She nibbled her lower lip.


  He frowned. She turned to face him, her skirt pressing against his knees.

  Barden’s eyes darkened, and he leaned toward her, a look of longing coloring his face. How she wished he’d take her in his arms and comfort her.

  “I don’t see how you could have heard us. We were at the old tavern.”

  “I snooped.” A brave expression fought with her tears as she lifted her chin. “I heard you telling them to have God direct their path, and I wondered if you’d told Virginia and Alvin the same thing.”

  He grasped her hands, his warm and work chafed. “I’ll admit, I may have in one of our conversations.”

  Caroline tried to tug her hands free, but when he resisted her disengagement she relaxed. “But what if that isn’t what’s best for them?”

  “When wouldn’t God’s will be best?”

  “They’re young. They probably don’t even know what is best. My father wanted us all together. He wanted me to keep this inn going and to take care of them.”

  He released her hands and moved closer. She needed his comfort. Never had she felt so forlorn, so distressed.

  Barden pulled Caroline into his arms, the softness and warmth of her surging protective desires through him. He tucked her head beneath his chin and patted her back, feeling her ribs beneath the threadbare cloth. She needed more. So much more than he could offer. It was already the middle of June and he would need to depart within a month. How could he leave her now that he loved her so?

  “What did you say, Barden?” Caroline pulled back and looked up at him.

  Had he uttered the words aloud that groaned in his soul?

  He pressed his lips to hers. Yes, he loved her. But he had nothing to offer her. Somehow with her sweet kiss it didn’t seem to matter. Barden embraced her and held nothing back as he covered her mouth, her soft cheeks, and her neck with kisses. The scent of sugar and vanilla mixed with floral undertones as he pressed his face into her upswept mass of caramel hair. The silky sensation exceeded his wildest imaginations. When he kissed her again, she returned the kiss with fervor and he pulled her closer.

  Trying to catch his breath and still his battering heart Barden pulled away. “We must stop.”

  Caroline blinked up at him, her lips swollen, her breath ragged. She pressed a hand to her bodice.

  “I’d never imagined a preacher could kiss like that.”

  There. She’d reminded him. Had God used Caroline to convict him of the promise he’d already made to the church? “Caroline …”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything right now.”

  Chapter 9

  Caroline couldn’t repress the smile tugging at her lips all morning. Barden had whispered he loved her. And the thrill of his kisses had traveled clear down to her laced-up boots. She unlocked the front door of the restaurant, opened the gingham curtains. The window panes sparkled thanks to Barden’s and the boys’ efforts. Without Virginia there, she now had to make sure the restaurant was ready to receive diners in the morning. With only ten inn guests upstairs, it should be a fairly slow morning. God, please watch over Virginia and Alvin. And may the Lord help her forgive the way they departed.

  After tying back the last curtain, she strained to look out at the street, where a trio of men rode into town. Peculiar how they seemed to lift slightly from their saddles. That was the same manner in which Barden rode. Unease dribbled through her like hot sorghum syrup on pancakes, especially when one of the men pointed toward the inn.

  Caroline hurried to the back and called to Deanna. “I think we have customers.”

  Mae looked up from cracking eggs into a bowl. “We’ll be ready. Barden has the coffee going and the biscuits are baked.”

  Barden swiveled away from the stove and winked at her, sending her heart skittering down some happy lane where she longed to go. “Deanna will be down in a moment, she had some distress with her ribbons.”

  “Probably slept with them in her hair again.” Tugging at her apron until it was perfectly straight and the ruffles aligned, Caroline headed back out to the restaurant as the front door swung in.

  The first two men removed their tan dusters and handed them to the third man, who carried them back out the door. Odd.

  “May I help you?”

  The taller of the two men, with silvery mutton-chop whiskers, turned to the other man, whose round face was cleanly shaven. “Let’s partake of breakfast first, eh, before seeking out the lad?”

  The man’s British accent was thicker than Barden’s yet also crisper, as if this was a man used to being in command.

  “Capital idea.”

  Caroline gestured toward the center table. No guests from upstairs had yet come down. “You have the place to yourselves, gentlemen.”

  “Jolly good.” He didn’t look jolly at all, as a frown formed between his white eyebrows.

  “What are you serving, this morn, madam?” The round-faced man’s ruddy cheeks sported a hint of missed whiskers, a sign of haphazard shaving.

  “Fried potatoes, ham, scrambled eggs, and biscuits with gravy.” Pretty much the same every day. “And coffee.”

  “Tea?”

  “Yes.” Only since Barden had come.

  “Marvelous. We’ll start with a pot of tea and take all the rest of the breakfast offerings.”

  The third, and younger man, reentered the building. The two dusters now appeared a shade lighter in color so he must have beaten the dust from them and from his own jacket, which he’d removed. He hung each one on a peg and wiped his hands. He turned toward her. “Do you have a water closet on this floor, miss?”

  “Water closet? Oh, we do have a wash bowl, soap, and water in that room beneath the stairs.” She pointed to the back.

  “Much obliged.” Although his response was a typical cowboy thank you, the man’s intonation was a more guttural version of Barden’s accent.

  Caroline gestured toward the younger man as he headed back. “Will he be joining you?”

  “Jonathan will want his own table.” The dark-haired man pointed to the far wall. “And a newspaper if you’ve one handy.”

  “Last week’s Kansas Collective is here.”

  The older gentleman arched an eyebrow. “That’ll do.”

  “Will he want tea?” She thought she should ask. But what kind of cowboys ordered tea? Thick black coffee was their lifeblood.

  “Indeed, and plenty of sugar.”

  “I’ll have everything out shortly.”

  A niggling feeling continued in her stomach as Caroline headed to the kitchen where Mae, Mr. Woodson, and Leonard were working. “Where’s Barden?”

  Leonard gestured out back.

  Deanna walked in, her hair covered in some kind of turban. It wasn’t worth asking about.

  “Deanna, I need three breakfast plates brought out, please.”

  After grabbing a tray, Caroline placed the sugar bowl, three cups, three small plates, and a basket of biscuits atop. She took one of the butter crocks and set a knife on it, then retrieved utensils and napkins.

  “Coffee?” Mr. Woodson held the pot aloft.

  “No, I’ll need tea—make enough for three men.”

  Mae’s eyes widened. “Who are they?”

  “They’re English but they look like ranchers.”

  The back door opened, and Barden carried in a basketful of wood for the stove.

  Her heart skipped a beat as her lips burned with the memory of his previous night’s kiss. Barden’s eyes locked on hers, and his cheeks reddened. He’d said he loved her. And if thinking of him all the time, dreaming about him, and feeling like her world had turned upside down was love, then she, too, loved him—but this was such a different kind of love than she’d had with Frank. She was falling in love with her own fiancé. Except he’d never actually spoken to her about marriage—only the future. Were these Englishmen here about Barden?

  “You all right, Mrs. Kane?”

  Mrs. Kane, not Caroline. But when he smiled at her, her hea
rt wobbled in her chest.

  Everyone returned to their work. Barden patted his vest pocket. “I almost forgot; I have a letter that Mrs. Freeman sent for you.”

  “I’ve got to serve these men and I’ll be right back.” She didn’t want to stay, afraid of what Barden might tell her. But there were many British ranchers in the West. “They’re Englishmen.”

  “Oh?” His voice sounded strained. “Did you catch their names?”

  “No. They seem much more interested in their food.”

  “Ah. Very good.” But his auburn brows drew together, and he turned away from her.

  As Caroline carried the heavy tray out to the table, her unease built. First she served the two men at the table.

  “We’re strangers in town, as I imagine you’ve discerned.” The younger of the two men opened his napkin and laid it across his lap.

  She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “I figured as much.”

  “We’re looking for my godson.” The older man’s voice took on a formal tone. “Barden Granville IV, the son of our good friend, Lord Cheatham.”

  Thank goodness her tray had been considerably lightened or the tremor in her hands would have toppled everything onto the men.

  What they said didn’t make sense. Why did Barden have a different last name from his father? Was he an illegitimate son? Was he hiding in America? If so, why would these two men be seeking him out?

  “Uncle Drayton!” Barden called out from behind her.

  Caroline turned and set the tray on the adjacent table.

  “Good to see you, old chap.”

  When the men didn’t rise, Barden bent and hugged Mr. Drayton, and then straightened and shook hands with the other man. Caroline headed over to check on the third guest.

  “Sorry it took so long, old chap, but we’re here now.” Uncle Drayton leaned back in his chair and gestured to the seat adjacent him. “Have a sit down.”

  Barden raised his hands. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve work to do.”

  The two men exchanged a glance and Chesterfield guffawed. “You’ve taken over a Church of England parish here, then lad?”