Brett set the pitchfork aside and then walked around the lean-to that held his forge. Wally Brown, who oversaw the feed store for the most part while Brett saw to the blacksmithing, usually gave the horses their grain, but not on Sundays. Besides working for him, Wally worked for the livery. He had living quarters in the barn loft over there and kept an eye on things overnight.
Brett unlocked the front door and, once inside, walked directly to the window that faced his house, and Fiona’s a short distance farther away. He’d watched the sun rise with many people over the years. Family. Men he worked with at home and on the railroad. Friends while hunting. Companions while traveling. Yet never once had he appreciated sharing one more than he had with her this morning. It wasn’t just because he’d had someone standing beside him. It was because it had been Fiona. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.
If she was one of the women from Ohio the Betterment Committee had paid to come to Kansas, Fiona didn’t have to marry Josiah. She should have the opportunity to get to know all the men who’d contributed, including him.
Except he wasn’t in the running any longer, was he? Not if his mother sent him a bride. Maybe he should go see Teddy, have him send another telegram.
Turning away from the window, he crossed the space and sat down at his desk. His mother may not have gotten his first telegram yet. That was doubtful. One specifically for her would have been delivered minutes after it arrived.
There wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that, but he could talk to Josiah and find out exactly how Fiona had come to agree to marry him.
No longer caring if Josiah was up or not, Brett exited the building, locked the door and headed up the street.
A peaceful quiet filled the streets, and as he walked past, he noticed a sign in the hotel’s window that said the eatery was closed until after church this morning.
Josiah’s law office was two doors down from the hotel. Like many other business owners in town, Josiah lived in the quarters above his office. Even before he built his buildings, Brett had been thinking about the time when he’d have a family. Not wanting them to live above a feed store, he’d gone ahead and ordered enough lumber for a house as well as the feed store and blacksmith shop.
Brett walked past the law office door with Josiah’s name painted on it, turned the corner and then walked around to the back of the building, where he promptly knocked on the back door.
He knocked a second time before hearing movement inside the house, and then someone telling him to hold his horses.
It wasn’t his horses he was trying to hold on to. His temper was rising far quicker than normal.
Josiah pulled aside the curtain to peek through the glass before he opened the door. “What are you doing here at this time in the morning?” Josiah asked, pulling open the door.
“We need to talk,” Brett said, stepping over the threshold, forcing Josiah to step back in the process.
Straightening his vest, pulling it down over his thick waist once he’d caught his footing from jumping backward, Josiah asked, “About what?”
“Fiona Goldberg,” Brett said, shutting the door with a solid thud.
Josiah’s face and neck reddened. “Mrs. Goldberg and her sons aren’t any of your business.”
Fighting had never been Brett’s way. He always figured it wouldn’t be fair. He was much bigger and stronger than most men. However, using that size and strength for his own good, or the good of others, now and again didn’t bother him. He took a step closer and laid both hands on Josiah’s shoulders. Looking down upon the much shorter man, he said, “As I see it, she is my business. Any bride from Ohio is fair game to any one of us who donated to the committee.”
It was July, and the morning air was warming quickly, but not so much that sweat should be trickling down the mayor’s face. Josiah pulled out a kerchief and wiped his forehead. “Fi—Mrs. Goldberg is not one of the brides the committee ordered. She came upon hard times and contacted me personally, offering to be my bride. I agreed. Therefore, she is mine and mine alone.”
Brett wasn’t certain he believed Josiah, but he had no reason not to. Especially since just yesterday he’d taken it upon himself to order his own bride. Irritated by that as much as everything else, he said, “Seems to me you aren’t treating your wife-to-be very well. You left her and those little boys alone to fend for themselves last evening.”
“I promised her some time to get to know me,” Josiah said. “Something only a gentleman such as myself would know about.”
If there was any man in town who considered himself a gentleman, it was Josiah. Brett removed his hands and stepped back.
Josiah pocketed his kerchief. “I was just getting ready to walk over and check on them. See if they need anything.”
Torn as to how much he should and shouldn’t say about Fiona and her sons eating at his place last night, the air left Brett’s chest with a huff.
“There will be other brides arriving, soon, Brett,” Josiah said. “You’ll have a chance at one of them.”
Not wanting the mayor to know that wasn’t his greatest concern, Brett asked, “When?”
“I can’t say for sure, but my friend, who is the mayor in Bridgewater, Ohio, is gathering them up as we speak. He’ll notify me as soon as they are ready.”
“You’ve been saying that for a month,” Brett pointed out. “And for two months before that you promised there would be a dozen women.”
“There will be. This sort of thing takes time.”
Brett let the frustration inside him ease out on a long breath. “Folks are getting tired of waiting.”
“I know,” Josiah said, “and I’m working on bringing in all twelve brides as promised. Now, I really must head over to see Fiona before church this morning.” He took a couple steps sideways and pulled open the door.
With little else he could say or do, Brett nodded and left.
Chapter Four
If she’d been mad before, this morning Fiona was furious. She and the boys were fully prepared to attend services, had already started walking toward town, figuring they’d easily find the church, when Josiah had stopped them. Not only stopped them, but forbade them from attending this morning. Said he wasn’t prepared to introduce her to the town yet.
“They don’t want us here any more than the folks back in Ohio,” Wyatt said, looking out the window.
Keeping her fury to herself, Fiona hooked her apron over her head and then tied it in place behind her back. “As long as we are friendly and honest, people will like us.”
“No, they won’t,” Wyatt disagreed.
Convincing him could prove impossible, so she changed the subject. “You two go change out of those clothes. No sense getting them dirty.”
“Can we go visit Brett, then?” Rhett asked.
“No—”
“Can’t,” Wyatt interrupted. “He ain’t home.”
“How do you know that?” Rhett asked.
Turning from the window, Wyatt said, “I saw him leave a long time ago and he hasn’t come back.” Glancing at her as he walked toward the bedroom they’d all shared last night, he added, “Bet that mayor told Brett not to like us.”
“He did not,” Rhett declared. “Did he, Ma?”
“Of course not.” Convincing herself about anything when it came to Brett would take far more than a few words. He seemed to have taken permanent residency in her mind. Watching the sunrise with him this morning had been utterly amazing. They’d barely spoken, yet she’d felt his presence, much like last night while washing dishes. This morning it had been more than a presence. His silent companionship had told her she wasn’t alone in a way she’d never experienced before. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she gestured to both boys. “Go change like I told you.”
Not done with his nas
tiness, Wyatt settled a glare on her from the bedroom door. “Don’t know why you put an apron on, there ain’t no stove to cook on. Ain’t no food to cook either.”
There was no stove or food—she’d built a small fire outside earlier to cook the eggs Brett had given them—but it was Wyatt’s attitude she had to address. “Rhett, go change your clothes.” As her younger son walked into the other room, she took Wyatt by the arm. “I understand this situation is very difficult for you. It is for me too. But no matter how hard it is for any of us, I will not tolerate rudeness. Not toward me, your brother or anyone else. Do you understand?”
Young enough so that a good scolding usually worked, Wyatt nodded. An inkling of dread entered Fiona at the defiance still living in his eyes. A scolding soon wouldn’t work. Not with the load of anger harboring inside him. She had no idea what to do about that. How to help him get past it.
“This can be a good life for us, Wyatt. I sincerely believe that, but we’ll have to work on it. And it may not be easy. Especially not at first.”
“Life could have been good for us back in Ohio too,” he said.
Not wanting him to know just how impossible that would have been, she said, “It could have been, but I thought we needed a new start. Try out a new place with new people.”
“Where people don’t know our pa died while robbing a train,” he said softly, solemnly.
If her heart had been whole, it would have broken in two right then. As it was, the few pieces of her heart that remained intact crumbled a bit more. She couldn’t deny what Sam had done, nor justify it. “He wasn’t thinking right, honey.”
“Why’d he have to start drinking, Ma? That’s when he got mad at everyone.”
Wyatt was only seven, yet it was amazing just how intelligent he was, and how much he remembered. She’d tried to hide Sam’s drinking from him as much as she’d tried to hide everything else but had failed there too.
“I don’t know, Wyatt. I honestly don’t know.”
“Hey, Ma?” Rhett asked, coming out of the bedroom. “Could we go fishing? Catch us some fish like Brett did. Those sure were good last night.”
“We don’t even have a fishing pole, dum—”
Wyatt stopped when she gently squeezed his arm.
“Those certainly were good fish we ate with Mr. Blackwell last night,” she said, using the moment to bring up another subject. “You boys mustn’t call him by his first name. He is Mr. Blackwell.”
With a nod, Rhett said, “Maybe Mr. Blackwell will let us use his fishing pole.”
“And please don’t bother him,” she said. “He is a busy man.”
“We won’t bother him, just ask to use his pole,” Rhett said.
She shook her head. “That would be bothering him. Perhaps he wants to go fishing himself today.”
“Maybe he’d take us with him!”
Rhett’s entire face had lit up, and it hurt to squelch his excitement. “I’m sure Mr. Blackwell is far too busy for that.” Other than the small bed, the house held no furniture, so she sat down on the top of one of the three trunks they’d brought with them from Ohio. “But Mr. Melbourne said he’ll be back after church.” Expecting Wyatt to reply, she gave him a warning look before saying, “Perhaps he has something fun planned for all of us.”
“Like what?” Rhett asked.
“I’m not sure.” Hoping Josiah would consider their needs, she said, “A picnic maybe?”
“Ya think?” Rhett asked.
She shrugged but included a smile to keep his hopes up. All of their hopes up. Yesterday Josiah had said he was going to let others know at church this morning that she had arrived in town. She’d assumed that meant they were to attend church with him, but this morning, when he’d told them to remain at the house, he’d said he would plan a time for her to meet the townspeople. He hadn’t mentioned the boys, but surely he must plan on introducing them all at the same time.
“Do you think there will be fried chicken?” Rhett asked, licking his lips.
Guilt at getting his hopes too high struck her. “I truly have no idea.” Standing, she said, “This morning I had to gather dried grass to fry the eggs, so in case Mr. Melbourne brings something I need to cook, let’s go gather some more. I’ll show you how to twist it tight so it’ll burn longer.”
“How do people live without wood to burn out here?” Wyatt asked as they all walked to the door.
“I’m not sure,” she answered. The only reason she knew about twisting grass was from a woman back in Ohio whose sister had gone west on a wagon train and wrote her about such things.
“Bre—Mr. Blackwell has a bunch of wood stacked over at his place,” Wyatt said. “And another pile by his blacksmith shop. Maybe he can tell us where he got it.”
“I’m sure Mr. Melbourne will be able to answer all your questions,” Fiona said. “Just so long as you don’t make a nuisance of yourself by asking too many at once.”
* * *
The new preacher, Connor Flaherty, the same one who’d performed the weddings yesterday, was almost as long-winded as the mayor, Brett considered, but the preacher’s words about the ten commandments were worth listening to. A reminder of those was always good for the soul.
His needed some reminding right now. Fiona and the boys were not in church. Josiah had arrived, alone, shortly after Brett had. Knowing he was too curious not to watch her place this morning, he’d headed over to the livery, where he could keep an eye on things inconspicuously. While doing just that, he’d shared a pot of coffee with Wally before the church bells had rung. Wally had forgone services, as usual, and had grumbled, complaining that the single men in town would starve if Rollie closed his eatery every Sunday morning.
Thinking of that made Brett’s stomach growl. He’d skipped breakfast, choosing to give the last of the eggs to Fiona. He didn’t regret that. Nor did he begrudge Rollie for closing his eatery this morning. Rollie had married one of the brides yesterday, and the couple was in church this morning. Along with Rollie’s two young sons.
When the services ended, Brett exited the building, shaking the reverend’s hand on his way out. He’d just stepped off the bottom step when movement behind one of the few trees caught his eyes.
Teddy stayed as hidden as possible while waving at him.
Brett glanced left and right, making sure no one else had noticed Teddy, before he walked to the tree.
“What are you doing?”
“Staying out of Abigail’s sight,” Teddy said. “I told her I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Why? So I could watch for your mother’s message. Nothing has come in yet, and I’m heading back over there. Just thought I’d let you know. Abigail’s having lunch with the new reverend at the eatery in order to interview him for her special edition, so I’ll have the office to myself most of the afternoon.”
A good portion of guilt rolled around in Brett’s stomach. Teddy was so eager over the prospect of a new avenue to acquire brides, Brett didn’t want to squelch it, even though the idea was no longer exciting to him. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
“Just remember our deal,” Teddy said, ducking as he left the coverage the tree had provided.
Brett watched until Teddy made it all the way across the road and into the newspaper office before he turned and walked up the road.
The hotel was indeed open, and the smell of fried chicken filled the air. Brett entered the building and, noting all the tables were full, went over to the hotel desk. “Rollie,” he greeted.
“Hey, Brett, how are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Fine, better than fine, actually,” Rollie said as a woman stepped up beside him. “You know my new wife, Sadie.”
“Sure do,” Brett replied, nod
ding toward the woman with pink cheeks. She was a tiny gal and sort of cute with her reddish hair all piled up on top of her head. He’d met her several times since she’d arrived along with the other brides, mainly right here at the eatery. Shortly after her arrival, Rollie’s cook had taken ill for a few days and Sadie had stepped in to help. Along with several others, Brett had figured she’d end up marrying Rollie, so he hadn’t pursued her. Besides, he couldn’t say he’d heard her speak other than a few whispered you’re welcomes. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his hat.
She smiled and bowed her head slightly.
“What can I do for you, Brett?” Rollie asked while tugging his wife a little closer to his side.
“Looks like you have a full house. Think I could get a meal to take home?” He and Wally did that often enough, especially when both shops were too busy to shut down long enough to go eat.
“Of course,” Rollie said. “The special is fried chicken today, with beans, fried potatoes and sweet pickles.”
“Sounds good.” Fried chicken was one of his favorite meals. Someday he’d buy a whole flock of chickens so his family could have fried chicken every Sunday if they wanted.
“I’ll get it,” Sadie said quietly.
“Make it a double order, my dear,” Rollie said. “Brett’s a hearty eater and one of our best customers.”
The new bride nodded and said something to Rollie. Brett didn’t hear what because a shrill laugh had dang near split his eardrums in two. He recognized the laugh came from Abigail and leaned back to look around the corner and into the dining room. There she sat, along with the preacher and the mayor.
The mayor? As Josiah ordered food from one of the young girls who also worked at the eatery, Brett’s spine stiffened even more than it had from Abigail’s laugh. A good bout of disgust heavily laced with anger filled him. As Sadie walked around him, Brett reached out and touched her arm. “Make that order enough for four people to eat,” he said. “Four hungry people.”
Winning the Mail-Order Bride Page 5
