Patrick's Charm (The Bride Train, #2)

by E. E. Burke

  Patrick motioned for Charm to move over and sat down. He draped his arm around her shoulders and leaned close. “Just so you know, I’m not giving you up. If it comes to a fight we’ll do battle together.” His brows gathered in a fierce frown. “Faugh-a-bellagh!”

  Clear the way! She recalled every detail of his story about the terrible battle. He had taken on enemies against impossible odds and survived; wounded and scarred, yet somehow stronger.

  She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Never.” He gave her a dark smile. “I’ve gone through hell once. If necessary, I’ll do it again.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. O’Shea.” The railroad agent folded the order. “Mr. LaBar has no authority to remove your wife from the state. He’s welcome to pursue the matter through legal channels. In the meantime, I’ll ask my friend, Alan Pinkerton, to make inquiries about this order, and about his financial arrangements with a judge who is under investigation for taking bribes.”

  Simon made an inarticulate sound. His face turned very red.

  Charm gaped at the agent, flabbergasted, and then, overjoyed. If there was proof that Simon had bribed a judge, why, he would be the one put in jail. Not her.

  Mr. Hardt tucked the order into his pocket and continued to address Simon. “I suggest you go back to wherever you came from, and if you value your freedom, never return.”

  Unsmiling, the railroad agent addressed her. “Would you and Mr. O’Shea care to join me in my private car?

  Charm couldn’t move fast enough.

  Hardt’s private railcar looked nothing like the coach car she’d arrived in, or the parlor car where she’d been with Simon. Rather, half the car had been turned into an office, complete with table, chairs and a desk strewn with papers and maps. Behind a wall, she assumed he had a sleeping berth or other living space. Nothing indicated he was anything other than what he seemed—all work and no nonsense.

  His defense touched Charm deeply. She understood the reason he might’ve come to check on the situation, but she couldn’t fathom why he would help them. She hadn’t thought he had much compassion. Considering she’d been wrong about Patrick, maybe her first impression of Mr. Hardt had been wrong, too. “Thank you, sir...for everything.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. O’Shea.” Hardt crossed to a liquor cabinet near the desk and uncorked a crystal decanter. He poured what looked like brandy into two glasses and handed one to Patrick. “Here’s to two problems solved.”

  “Two problems?” Patrick took the glass.

  “Come by the office day after tomorrow. I’ll have your claim, signed by the directors.”

  Patrick whooped.

  Charm’s heart grew lighter. Thank God, her husband’s land would be secured. One less worry. “The other problem, you mean Simon.” She was relieved to be away from him, but knew better than to turn her back. “I’m afraid he won’t give up. He’ll be back with reinforcements.”

  Hardt appeared unconcerned. “I wouldn’t worry about Simon LaBar. When I reach Fort Scott, I’ll send off a telegraph to Pinkerton. They’ll keep him busy enough that he won’t have time to bother you.”

  Patrick clinked his glass against Hardt’s. “May those who love us love us, and those that don't love us may God turn their hearts; and if He doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles, so we'll know them by their limping.”

  “Or by their bent fingers,” Charm suggested. “If I may, I’d like to join you in a toast...”

  Mr. Hardt arched his eyebrows. Then he handed his glass to her without a word. He hadn’t offered her a drink, probably because ladies weren’t expected to want one. Nor were they encouraged to become actresses and lead independent lives. Her husband hadn’t tried to make her into the perfect Victorian woman. He loved her for who she was, and was willing to do anything to prove his love—and she felt the same way about him.

  She raised her glass. “Here’s to my husband, who never gives up.”

  The drink burned all the way down. She couldn’t speak. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  Patrick rubbed her back. “Are you all right?”

  “What is that stuff?” She gasped, still trying to catch her breath.

  “Whiskey,” the railroad agent answered. “My special collection.”

  Grimacing, she handed him the glass. “I thought it was brandy.”

  “Let me get you some.” He returned to the liquor cabinet.

  His special whiskey had burned a hole in her throat. She wasn’t taking a chance on his brandy. Charm lifted her hand in surrender. “No, thank you.”

  “Water?”

  “That would be fine.”

  Patrick took the water glass and handed it to her. “Mr. Hardt, you’re a decent man. I thank you for what you did. We won’t ever forget your kindness.”

  “Don’t be too quick to credit me with kindness,” Hardt replied evenly. “I never do anything without expecting to be repaid.”

  Patrick didn’t look offended by the crass comment. He smiled like he found the remark amusing. “So what do I owe you?”

  The agent tossed back his whiskey. He didn’t blink. “Stay in Centralia. Open that theater I’ve been hearing about...and don’t host any more Land League meetings.”

  Chapter 11

  Patrick awoke Sunday morning with his wife in his arms. He heaved a sigh of utter contentment, could think of nothing better than waking with Charm curled up next to him. Well, there might be one thing better.

  He shifted his arm to bring her closer and kissed the top of her head.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured.

  “Are you awake?” he asked, hopeful.

  She stretched her arm across his chest, nuzzling his shoulder. The soft touch of her lips sent prickles skittering across his bare skin. “If I say no, will you let me sleep? I promise, I’ll be more energetic later.”

  Smiling, he twirled a finger in her hair. “As energetic as you were last night?”

  She rose up on her arms and regarded him sleepy-eyed. “Are you always this chipper in the morning?”

  “Are you always a sleepyhead?”

  With a groan, she put her face down, forehead on her arms. He ran his hand over her hair, stroking. “Poor stóirín,” he murmured. “We’ll have to find a compromise.”

  “Noon,” came the muffled answer.

  Patrick chuckled. He would never be able to lay abed for that long. His back and leg would get too stiff. Right now, though, his attention was on another part that was getting stiff. But his wee darling needed her sleep, so he would compromise.

  She rested her head on his chest and stretched out her arm, reaching around his side to hold him. “I can hear your heart beating,” she said softly.

  “It’s saying I love you. And it will for as long as it beats.”

  “Then I hope it beats forever, because that’s how long I’m going to love you.”

  His heart pounded harder. He’d thought luck had failed him, that God had turned His back. Then Charm dropped into his life. He would never doubt goodness again.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about wanting to travel and perform. I can settle with McGill on a price for the saloon. We can travel wherever you want, get you performances in big theaters. I’ll help you. Be your manager, your assistant, whatever you want to call it.”

  She blinked at him, incredulous. Now she was wide-awake. “Why would you do that?”

  “If it’s what’s you want, then it’s what I want. That’s how love works.” He smiled at her astonished expression. “You might even decide you like mornings.”

  She didn’t laugh at his joke. “You can’t sell this place to a dishonest man. No more than I can go back to Simon. Besides, we promised Mr. Hardt we’d stay and open a theater.”

  That reason didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t forcing his wife to bend her life around to suit the whims of a railroad agent, no matter what the man had done for them.

&
nbsp; “Is that why you’re willing to stay? Because you promised him?”

  “No, I’m willing to stay because I promised you.” A mischievous twinkle came into her eyes. “And because you’ll promise to turn the saloon into a grand theater and name it after me.”

  ***

  An insistent knocking got them out of bed.

  “I’m going to kill whoever that is. They should know better than to bother newlyweds this early in the morning...” Charm grumbled as she dressed hurriedly. She and Patrick had just taken up where they’d left off last night when someone started hammering on the door.

  Patrick had dressed and gone to answer. It was probably that parasite, McLaughlin, looking for another handout. He seemed to think O’Shea’s was his second home.

  She dragged a brush through her hair and twisted it up, jabbing hairpins into the bun. Patrick would be nice because he couldn’t be any other way. She, however, would send their unwanted guests to perdition with a tongue-lashing. Then she and her husband could get back to more pleasant activities.

  Still grumbling, she headed down the stairs—and halted at the back door into the saloon. A strange sight greeted her.

  Patrick held the front door open as Susannah, Hope, Delilah, Prudence and Rose filed inside. They carried trays of food, along with cakes and pies.

  “Where can we put these?” Susannah asked him.

  Without a word, he motioned to the bar.

  He’d reported seeing Susannah and Prudence several days ago, and said they had been told a different story about why she left the hotel. She hadn’t expected them to actually come to the saloon. Prudence spotted her first, and started over with a very determined look on her face.

  Growing nervous, Charm reached up to straighten the bun. She smoothed her hands over the light cotton dress she’d thrown on, the first thing she could find.

  The other woman had dressed in their Sunday finery. Maybe that’s what this was, a Sunday school meeting. After all, Patrick had agreed to let the preacher use the saloon on Sundays.

  Prudence wrung her hands, appearing uncertain. “Hello Charm... I owe you an apology for believing you would leave without saying goodbye, and for not coming by to check on you. Will you forgive me?”

  The reason for their sudden appearance sank in. They were here to see her, and to extend an olive branch. The doubt and hurt coating Charm’s heart melted away.

  “How could I not?” She opened her arms and her friend stepped into them.

  “Oh, I’m so happy to see you, and I’m glad you’re not angry.” Prudence stepped back with tears running down her cheeks. She fished a handkerchief from beneath her sleeve and wiped her eyes. “We were told you left, and that you didn’t want to see us anymore. I should’ve known better.”

  “Yes, you should have...” Charm started solemnly, then smiled with affection. “But I forgive you. If you forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  “For not having faith in our friendship.”

  The other women approached and made their apologies.

  “We missed your wedding. So we’ve come to surprise you with a reception.” Susannah hugged her. “We are still friends, aren’t we?” she whispered.

  Tears filled Charm’s eyes. Her friends demonstrated courage and humility in coming here to ask for forgiveness. She had as much need of forgiveness, and for their friendship. “Yes, we will always be friends.”

  “We’ve brought you gifts, too.” Hope gestured to a table where several boxes were stacked.

  “Things you might be able to use to set up your home,” Delilah added.

  Their thoughtfulness and generosity left Charm speechless.

  Patrick gave her an I-told-you-so grin before he started taking chairs off tables. “You ladies can sit here.

  Rose appeared beside Charm. She leaned down, whispering. “Remember, dear sister, The Order of the Garter. We stand by each other, always. Now you have to give the garter to the next woman who marries. Who do you think it will be? Delilah? Hope? Susannah?”

  Charm’s gaze found the leader of the group, who had rounded up the others to move the food to the table. As usual, she was giving orders. She wouldn’t be an easy catch. It would take a man equally hardheaded. None she would accept came to mind. “No, I think...”

  Prudence set out two pies, which she probably baked. That woman could cook.

  “Maybe Prudence? If we can get her out of the kitchen long enough to meet a suitable man.”

  “Any ideas?”

  The only man who came to mind was the flirtatious rascal who had set off Patrick’s temper. But no, that wouldn’t be a good match. Mr. Childers had a wild reputation, not to mention being a bootlegger. Prudence wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that.

  “Let me think on it.”

  Patrick stepped onto the stage. “Attention everyone! I have an announcement to make.” He motioned for Charm to join him, and then draped an arm around her shoulders, his embrace forming an affectionate, protective shelter.

  She slipped her arm around his waist, offering him the same.

  “We plan to turn O’Shea’s into a theater,” he announced. “We’ll have shows and plays, and make it place women can attend.”

  The ladies clapped loudly.

  “Our theater needs a name, and my wife suggested one earlier today...”

  Charm turned to look at him, and he winked at her. Oh heavens, he hadn’t taken her seriously, had he?

  “Welcome everyone to O’Shea’s Good Luck Charm.”

  The End

  Author’s Note

  The Bride Train is inspired by a series of true events that took place in southeastern Kansas shortly after the Civil War. After the government opened up former Indian land, one of the railroads finagled a deal to purchase the entire tract. Settlers who had moved onto the land and filed claims under “preemption” were forced to broker deals with the new owner.

  By 1869, riots broke out in protest of railroad land policies. Angry settlers burned ties and tore up track as fast as the railroad could put it down. Things got so bad that President Grant sent troops into Kansas to quell the violence. A more peaceful solution was proposed: a program sponsoring the immigration of single young ladies into Kansas to become brides and provide a “calming influence” on the unruly men. I couldn’t find any evidence this program got off the ground. But what a great romance series idea!

  The Bride Train is first mentioned in my debut romance novel, Her Bodyguard, which is set against the same series of events in a different location. Click here to read a scene about the arrival of the first Bride Train. This scene inspired me to conceive an entire series about a railroad matchmaking service.

  Patrick’s Charm is Book 2 in The Bride Train series. The hero, Patrick O’Shea, is a disabled veteran who desperately needs a lucky break. Research led me to the plight of Irish immigrants who fought in the American Civil War. Many were recruited “fresh off the boat.” They had no idea what they were getting into until they were in the thick of battle.

  Few men who fought in the Irish Brigade made it home, even fewer returned unscathed. Wounded soldiers were routinely dosed with opium for pain, and many of them became dependent on the painkiller. Opium addiction among former troops was so bad it was given the name, Soldier’s Disease. Today, it’s difficult to imagine the strength it would’ve taken to cope with injury, addiction and the rigors of starting a new life on the frontier.

  Patrick meets his match in Charm LaBelle, who shows up at his saloon looking for a job. Charm’s character is loosely based on the famous 19th century actress Lotta Crabtree, who got her start as a child, entertaining miners in San Francisco.

  In her impromptu audition, Charm sings two songs that were popular during the war and afterwards. The Irish Volunteer you might classify as a fight song for the Irish Brigade. Lorena is a ballad sure to bring tears to the eyes of lonely soldiers. If you’d like to hear them, check out these versions on YouTube.

  A Letter
To My Readers

  Thank you, dearest reader, for joining me on a journey into a fictional world in the past. If you enjoyed Patrick’s Charm, you can find an up-to-date listing of other titles in the series on my website under My Books.

  Feel free to lend a copy of this book to a friend or tell them about it if you think they’d enjoy it. Also, please consider posting a short review. Honest reader reviews help others decide if they’ll enjoy a book.

  Be among the first to know when I have a new release, just sign up for my email newsletter. As a new subscriber you’ll receive a free book just for signing up.

  You can connect with me on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest, or send me an email. I love to hear from readers!

  I wish you many happy hours reading.

  Warm Regards,

  E.E. Burke

  More From E.E. Burke

  The Bride Train Series

  Tempting Prudence, Book 3

  Valentine’s Rose, Book 1

  American Mail-Order Brides Series

  Victoria, Bride of Kansas

  Santa’s Mail-Order Bride, the sequel

  Steam! Romance and Rails Series

  Her Bodyguard

  Passion’s Prize

  A Dangerous Passion

  Fugitive Hearts

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  About the Author

  Weave together passionate romance with rich historical detail, add a dash of suspense and you have books by E.E. Burke. Her chosen settings are the American West, and her current series takes place during the tumultuous era of the steam railroads. Her award-winning writing has earned accolades in regional and national contests, including the prestigious RWA Golden Heart®. Over the years, she’s been a disc jockey, a journalist and an advertising executive, before finally getting around to living the dream...writing stories readers can get lost in.