Mail Order Brides Collection Boxed Set: Felicity, Frank, Verity and Jessica, Books 3-6 (Montana Mail Order Brides Series)

by Rose Jenster

  Lane curried the horses as they had their oats. Then he went by the jailhouse to make sure Dewey hadn’t hauled in half the town elders for spitting and swearing in his absence. There Dewey sat, feet on his desk, fast asleep. By the looks of it he’d been asleep for a while so it must have been a peaceful night. Lane looked at the papers scattered on the desk and his eyes fell on one that seemed out of place.

  A cream-colored envelope with familiar writing, addressed to himself. He opened it and read it with a mix of joy and disbelief. Jessica Donnelly was already in Billings! He only had to go to Mrs. Hostelman’s and possibly brave one of the woman’s fried breakfasts to meet his correspondent.

  He knew he ought, as a gentleman, go change to clean clothes, perhaps even his Sunday suit. But the message had arrived, he figured, last night, and the girl would be wondering what kept him. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t happy she had arrived. So, he decided that turning up early in the morning in clothes still smudged from firefighting was better than waiting another minute to meet her.

  Lane ran his hands through his hair, still damp from the scrubbing at the rain barrel. He rapped on Mrs. Hostelman’s door and waited. There were heavy footsteps, the he saw the flicker of a candle move past the window and the door was unlatched. There stood the landlady in her voluminous wrapper, with curl papers in her hair under her nightcap. She scowled at him openly.

  “Sheriff?” There was coolness in her voice.

  “Yes, good morning, Mrs. Hostelman. I know it’s mighty early but there’s a lass in your house who sent me a message yesterday and I’ve only just received it. I didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer. Would you mind fetching her downstairs so I could speak with her?”

  “Hmph,” harrumphed Mrs. Hostelman. “Seems to me as you might let a body get some sleep. Kept the poor girl up pining after you till past midnight and then you come to my door at sun-up. Doesn’t seem like you have much thought for her comfort. She’s a fine lady, delicate-like and needs her beauty sleep,” Mrs. Hostelman said, giving him a disapproving glare.

  “I’ll be happy to wait out here if you don’t see fit as to let me indoors,” he said, knowing her natural hospitality would eventually get the better of her.

  She sighed dramatically and opened the door to admit him.

  “You can stand there in the hall. My parlor don’t open at no five in the morning. Fire’s not even lit yet,” she muttered, taking her candle up the stairs. She left the sheriff to stand in the front hall with only the faint gray light from the window.

  Lane was a little amused by Mrs. Hostelman’s reaction, but he thought it was sweet that Jessica had obviously waited up for him and that she inspired such protectiveness in her landlady on so short an acquaintance. He hoped she wasn’t quite as delicate as Mrs. Hostelman fancied her, though. He couldn’t imagine a fine lady in his house with the tame raccoon. When the landlady returned, she used a spill to light the lamp and opened the parlor for him.

  “The Satterfields lost their barn last night to a fire. I’m not one to keep a lady waiting deliberately. I hope you know that,” he offered and was rewarded by a softening of her expression.

  “Fighting a fire were you? Let me get you some coffee. And sausages! I’ll fry you some sausages! Why, up all night taking care of Billings—a man needs some meat!” She was in her element as she bustled around.

  Lane smiled at her fondly. “That’s right kind of you, but I’ll eat later. I’d be obliged for the coffee though,” he said.

  Soon enough she supplied him with a cup of thick, dark sludge that tasted more of chicory and scald than coffee. He managed to swallow it gamely and thank her.

  Jessica came into the parlor. Though she could only have been awake a few minutes, she did not rush and did not look thrown together or nervous. In fact, she looked perfectly poised for that early hour. She was shorter than he thought she’d be, with brown hair and a dress he would’ve called fancy.

  Not even Henry’s wife with all her sewing and her finery had anything to compare with the dress that Jessica wore and he wasn’t a man to much notice clothes. A woman with three inches of lace at her hem wasn’t likely to be at home with his fawn, raccoon and all the dogs. The dress looked out of place—not outlandish, but too fine. It seemed much like something he’d imagine to come out of Europe or the like.

  Jessica approached him and held out her hand to shake his. He gripped her small hand in its supple leather gloves and shook it once, hoping he didn’t squeeze her hand too hard. She did look delicate, as Mrs. Hostelman had said. In short, she didn’t look like she had any darned business out in Billings, Montana.

  “Mr. Lane,” she said, since he didn’t seem like he was going to speak.

  “Yes,” he said, a little shyly. “You must be Miss Donnelly.”

  “Please, call me Jessica. You indulged my request to hurry, to send multiple letters at once. So we must know each other well enough to use our Christian names. I’m happy you could come to call this morning,” she said graciously.

  “I would have been here last night but I’m on the fire brigade and there was a barn burned out west of town,”

  “Oh, dear! Were the animals saved?” Jessica was concerned.

  “Yes, it’s funny you should ask. I just saw them settled down at the stables. The family don’t know if they’ll stay or move back East after this so the horses will board until then,” he said.

  Lane liked that she asked about the animals and that their welfare was her first concern. But, she seemed so proper in her way of talking, like she was being generous at noticing him at all. He wasn’t much used to city manners, to people with fine airs and it made him uncomfortable.

  “I’m pleased to hear it. You must be exhausted after such an adventure. It was kind of you to stop in to welcome me to town, but I could not live with myself if I detained you from your well-deserved rest,” she said sweetly.

  “If I wanted to rest I’d have gone back home. I came here to see you. I reckon if you can ride a train from the east clear out to Montana Territory, I can walk across town to say hello,” he said, unsure if she wanted him to leave or if she was just being polite. Her manners—they were confusing to him.

  “Then may I offer you a seat and some refreshment?” Jessica asked kindly, indicating a chair.

  “I have coffee. Mrs. Hostelman got it for me,” he said, indicating the cup that sat on the side table. Jessica gave a small smile with a touch of mischief that struck him. If she could smile that way, sly as if she understood how bad that coffee must be. but still too kind to say a word against her landlady, there might be hope yet for them.

  “How kind of her. She has been so good to me. I meant, if you might be the sort of gentleman to prefer a cup of tea, I might make it for you myself,” she offered.

  “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like some tea,” he said, shifting in his chair. Jessica rewarded him with a smile and went to the kitchen.

  Lane was confused. She was pretty, but too fine for a man like himself with her education and her etiquette. Sure enough, he’d rarely been so uncomfortable around anyone. He couldn’t tell what she was saying, because she didn’t speak plainly like the people he was used to. When she said he should go home and rest, he wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to stay or to go home.

  Lane hoped the tea was better than the coffee, but most of all he hoped the reserve would melt away and they could talk like two friends together instead of strangers. It had been too much to hope that they could get on with one another easily. He had told her things in those letters he never told anybody, not even his own brothers or Henry. Maybe it was her knowing those personal things about himself that made him uneasy. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, he thought. The idea pained him.

  Jessie came back in, carrying a tray with cups of tea on it. She gave him one and asked if he took sugar. When she leaned over to give him the cup, he smelled a whiff of rosewater from her hair and it startled him. It was so feminine a
nd so unlike anything he was used to. It was beautiful but too sweet, too much for him. He muttered his thanks and sat back to look at his teacup.

  “I hope you don’t mind too much that I came to Billings without wiring you about my arrival. I didn’t want you to feel obliged to come and meet me. I left home very suddenly because it might have been my only chance. I—suppose I should tell you the thing I did that caused so much trouble,” she said.

  He saw her give a little squint and her hands tremble as she set the teacup aside. It was the only hint that she was nervous or uncomfortable at all.

  “I was at a party with my family. I told you my younger sister is engaged, to a Mr. Overling. The was a party at his family home. One of my friends, Rosella, was conversing with a—with a person. I cannot call him a gentleman because he isn’t one! I tried to interrupt and get her to leave him because I knew what his reputation was. It could harm her prospects of a decent marriage if she was seen too much with someone like him. She laughed at me and stayed by his side and danced with him and even flirted. “

  “I saw them leave the ball and go outside together. I don’t’ know if you know this, Mr. Lane, but back East if you are alone with a man, you’re as good as ruined. I wanted to save her and so I interfered and followed them outside. Just as I found them, Mrs. Overling discovered us and Rosella—Rosella ran off . So, it looked like I was walking out in the darkness alone with that person. It was a terrible disgrace. I disobeyed my parents by interfering with Rosella and I meddled in her business. Well, I got my just desserts, you might say. After I did that, no one respectable would invite me for tea or to a party much less allow their sons to consider courting me.” Jessica looked down at her hands, her face bright with shame.

  Lane felt a surge of anger then. Not at Jessica, but at the people who judged her for trying to protect her friend. He put his cup on the table and went over to her. He risked it—he had to. He took her hands.

  “The way I see it, you did no wrong, Miss Donnelly. You were fixing to help your friend. She ran out on you and left you to bear her disgrace. You were brave to do it and braver still to protect her when you could have told what really happened. I bet those Overlings saw what she was acting like and they would’ve believed you, too. You could have saved your own reputation, but you didn’t.”

  “I—I wasn’t brave at all. I was—relieved to be free of all those dull tea visits. I could stay home with a book and some almond cakes and not have to wear a corset—oh dear! Did I just say that word? In front of a gentleman? Forgive me!” Jessica stammered and he liked her all the more for her discomfiture.

  “I don’t mean to scandalize you, but I have a mother and I had a wife at one time and I know what that garment is. You didn’t shock me much by mentioning it. I never gave corsets much thought but I don’t think I’d much like walking around with whalebone squeezing me. I understand why you might be glad not to have to wear one,” he said with sympathy.

  Jessica withdrew her hands shyly and he saw how pure and good she was. She was not used to having a man so much as take her hand. He wondered if he should apologize for taking that liberty.

  “What I mean to say is I don’t blame you for any of it. Society back east sounds like a silly business to me if that’s what amounts to trouble.”

  “Thank you, but it was a grief to my family, especially my sister. I could not be a bridesmaid to her anymore because I was ruined. My mother thought the best thing to do with me was to send me to England and marry me off to someone who didn’t know I had been soiled.”

  “They were going to send you away? For what happened?” Lane felt his hands clench into fists at the injustice.

  “My mother wanted to protect me from the gossip and thought it was my best chance to make a good marriage. She said that people in England might not care so much about reputation as long as I had—“ she stopped, and he knew what she was going to say. It had been obvious from her letters and from her manners and dress since they met.

  “As long as you had money,” he said quietly. Jessica nodded as if it was a further shame.

  “I should have told you, only I was foolish and I wanted someone to like me and maybe even—marry me. I hoped for someone who wanted me and not only my father’s money. He has steel mills, rather a lot of them,” she confessed.

  “I guessed at it when you wrote. Even though you didn’t mention riches, it was clear from your talk of music lessons, dancing classes, linen napkins and house parties. You won’t find much of that here, I can tell you. But I know enough to see when someone’s got a lifestyle in the upper crust, if you don’t mind my calling it what it is.”

  “I thought I was so clever at hiding it in the letters,” she said with a watery giggle.

  Lane saw that she was trying not to cry and he felt sorry for her. It was strange feeling sorry for a beautiful girl with a good education and from a fine family.

  “It’s only fair to tell you that I have a dowry,” Jessica said softly.

  “I don’t care for that one way or another. I suppose it’s fair in turn that I tell you I wouldn’t have to be a sheriff if I didn’t like it. I told you I was from Helena and had a lot of brothers. But, I didn’t tell you my father came to Montana Territory from California. He was a forty-niner, Miss Donnelly, and a darned lucky one if you’ll excuse the language. He made enough in that gold rush when he was sixteen that he could have set up twenty sons and had plenty left over.”

  “So, you might say I wasn’t real honest with you about my situation either. I don’t care much for your money because I’ve got my own, or rather my father’s money. I’m a lawman because it’s a way to do some good and keep me from going crazy out of lonesomeness.” Lane felt good after making the confession.

  Jessica laughed then, outright, and it was the loveliest thing Lane had ever seen. Her pretty face transformed with amusement, all dimples with sparkling eyes and her hand over her mouth to try to stifle her laughter.

  “Only think,” she said, “us both hiding money as if it were the only thing to recommend us to anyone else. I came out here because I wished to escape what I saw as the consequence I deserved—marriage to a fortune hunter in England. I liked your letters very much, particularly the bit about your wild animals. I would not have made the journey if I didn’t care for you, please know that. But I was—you must also realize I was running away. I left a note for my parents like any wayward child would do.”

  “I once stole a jar of marmalade from my mother’s pantry and ate the whole contents myself while hiding under the stairs, as long as we’re making confessions,” he said playfully.

  “I’ve never had a jar of marmalade all to myself. Was it very good?” Jessica smiled, thinking about little Lane doing this.

  “Very. I had the stomachache after, but it was worth it,” he said. “I know I said that I didn’t want to rest, but I find myself very tired. Would you go for a walk with me this afternoon?”

  “Yes, I’d be happy to, Mr. Lane,” she said, looking shy again all of a sudden.

  He took his leave and when he looked back over his shoulder, Lane could see she had the curtain pulled aside at the front window so she could watch him walk. That made him smile inside.

  Chapter 7

  Jessica was overjoyed. She found Sheriff Lane to be patient and kind, and he listened to her confession of guilt very mercifully. It had not, perhaps, been the perfect first meeting. Her romantic side had dreamed more of a shy, obviously smitten suitor with a bouquet of wildflowers for her. The serious and practical sheriff didn’t answer all of her dreams of a handsome prince, but he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders and he wasn’t after her money. That counted more than fair hair and polished manners.

  She tried to lie down and nap so she would be refreshed for their afternoon stroll, but Jessica was too excited. She went over and over their meeting in her mind. Then she took out his letters, which she had almost memorized, and read them again.

  Jessica wished she had
packed the lovely walking dress her mother had ordered for her. Then she wished she could speak with her dear mother and tell her all that had happened. She bit her lip with sadness and regret. Jessica penned a long letter to her parents and wrote the direction on the outside. She would post it when they went for their first walk together.

  Jessica liked the idea of Lane showing her where the post office was and giving her a tour of his frontier town. She felt a pang of uncertainty, that he might not like her after all. But, she pushed that thought aside. Her mother had trained the girls to be practical and proper, but she inherited a some of her father’s Irish romanticism. She had been told way too much in fact.

  So she was dressed in a lovely walking dress and had her parasol at the ready when Lane called for her. Again, he didn’t bring wildflowers. The realization was dawning that he wasn’t the kind of man who was going to pick flowers for his sweetheart. She forced the dismay out of her mind and took his arm, though he hadn’t offered it. He might not know the proper etiquette for a gentleman walking out with a lady, but she could guide him gently to the appropriate conduct. Jessica smiled at him encouragingly, but his face remained grim.

  “I’d like to stop in at the post office if I may. I’ve a letter to send to my family,” she said sweetly.

  “Is it telling them I’m an ogre and you need a ticket home?” Lane asked in a tone of voice hard to read. She thought he was teasing her, but it was rather hard to tell.

  “Not at all!” Jessica said quickly. “I want them to know I’ve arrived safely and that the town is very quaint.”