by Kit Morgan
Felicity thought he looked a little worried. But why would that be? “That depends on what’s going on in town at the moment. Currently that would be you and the rest of the brides. By the way, did you sleep well last night?”
Felicity pressed her lips together and folded her hands in front of her. He was trying to change the subject, erase the notion of him getting married. She stared at the empty space of land and tried to envision a white church complete with everything he wanted – including a lovely little house next to it, because really, the man ought to be married.
And speaking of marriage, she needed to concentrate on her own. “I would think that today of all days, Mayor Hardt would want to attend your meeting with this judge. After all, he’s getting married too. Perhaps between you and the judge, you’ll have us all married in no time.”
He chuckled weakly and smiled. “One can hope. Let me show you where we plan to put the schoolhouse.” He turned to the left, then right, then stood a moment in thought. Did he even know where he wanted it?
“Rev. Hammond, it’s quite cold out here,” she said, then out of curiosity added, “Is something the matter?”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I ought to take you back to … no, not a good idea. I could take you to the saloon … no, that’s not the best place either. How about I show you Liam Fulton’s store?”
“So long as it’s warm.”
They walked back to the main part of town. The dry goods store and grocery was across the street from the saloon. “Merry Christmas, Liam,” Rev. Hammond called as they entered the building. “May I present Miss Felicity Partridge?”
Liam gave them a welcoming nod. He was a tall man with reddish hair, a trimmed beard and mustache and brown eyes. “Merry Christmas, Reverend, Miss Partridge.” He leaned over to peek past them. “You alone?”
Rev. Hammond glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, we’re alone. I’m showing Miss Partridge our town.” He leaned toward the store counter. “She, in turn, will tell the other brides what they can look forward to living here.”
“Such as your fine store,” Felicity added as she looked around. She wasn’t trying to flatter him – it was as neat and orderly as any mercantile in Denver.
The storekeeper looked taken aback, as if he’d expected her to make some derogatory remark about his place. “Thank you.”
She ran a gloved finger along the counter. “You appear to be a man who takes great pride in his establishment.”
“Yes. I do.” Mr. Fulton raised an eyebrow at Rev. Hammond. “Might I ask after the other brides?”
Felicity answered before the reverend could. “You mean, are we staying?”
Mr. Fulton slowly nodded. “Are you? Some of the men …”
Rev. Hammond reached across the counter and patted the storekeeper on the arm. “Let’s give them good reasons to, shall we? Your store, for example.” He turned to Felicity. “Liam here carries or can order everything you need.”
She eyed him. “Does he? I don’t see many bolts of cloth, no ribbons for hair …”
Mr. Fulton reached down, pulled out a flat box of ribbons and placed it on the counter.
Felicity’s eyebrows rose with her smile. “Women will want to spruce up their new homes …”
“I have brooms, mops, buckets …”
“Tablecloths? Lace?”
Liam blinked a few times, trying to remain polite. She had him there. “Those I can order. We haven’t had much call for those things, except for La Maison …”
“So you can get them?”
“Yes, though it might take a spell.”
“Good, so long as you can. I’ll let the brides know.” She turned to Rev. Hammond. “What’s next?”
Chapter 10
“Next” consisted of a stroll down the main street of town. Not that “main street” indicated much, since there were only two streets in Noelle. Rev. Hammond pointed out each building and what business it contained. Next to Fulton’s store was a hardware store with mining supplies, then the land office. Felicity noticed a look of annoyance cross his features as they walked past.
It turned into exasperation when the door opened, followed by a squeaky nasal voice that called, “Rev. Hammond, a word if you please?”
Rev. Hammond rolled his eyes, smiled at her and turned to face the man standing in the doorway of the land office. “Merry Christmas, Percy.”
“There’s nothing merry about it if you ask me.”
Rev. Hammond smiled again. “I didn’t ask.”
“No matter, I’ll tell you.” The man was short and thin, with dull brown hair and eyes, and large ears. He reminded Felicity of a perturbed mouse. “I spoke with Mr. Fulton next door this morning, and it appears that no one was married last night.”
Felicity’s eyes gravitated to the reverend, who was doing his best to keep his smile in place. “Percy,” he said to the mouse-man again, “may I present Miss Felicity Partridge?”
Percy squinted at her, pulled a pince-nez from his breast pocket and placed it on his nose. “Hmmm. How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you.” She glanced between the two men. “And you’re right, no one was married yesterday.”
Percy’s eyebrows shot to the sky as he took a deep breath through the nose, causing his pince-nez to fall off. He caught it expertly with one hand. “Rev. Hammond.” He pulled out a pocket watch. “Time waits for no man, and neither does my uncle! His inspector will be here January 6th. You can count on it!”
The reverend blanched, as if he’d just been hit with horrible news. Now what was that about? She thought. An inspection of what?
“Now, Percy,” Rev. Hammond said, “you haven’t given me time to explain what’s happening.”
“You don’t have to. I also had a visit from Madame Bonheur this morning.”
The reverend’s eyes widened slightly. “I take it she’s still feeling a bit put out?”
Percy fidgeted. “She’s quite upset over having to move across the street, if that’s what you mean.”
Rev. Hammond looked pained. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“Business is business, even for the likes of her. The sooner those brides and their grooms are married the better.”
The reverend cocked his head to one side. “Percy, what did she do? You look like a man who’s just wrestled with a polecat.”
Percy sniffed. “Just get the job done. My uncle expects results.”
Felicity had had enough. “What results?”
Percy glanced between her and the reverend. “You don’t know?”
“Of course she knows,” Rev. Hammond cut in. “In fact, she’s offered to help me get the job done.”
Percy squinted at her again. “Well, I suppose … if she can help.” He wrinkled his nose – just like a mouse sniffing the air. “Who is your groom?”
She smiled. “Mayor Hardt. And as the future Mrs. Hardt, I would appreciate it if you’d not take such a tone with the Rev. Hammond.”
Both men stared at her in curiosity. Now why had she jumped to the preacher’s defense like that? Probably because she didn’t like this mouse-man one bit.
“Nevertheless,” Percy huffed, “time passes quickly, Reverend. I suggest you remember that. In fact, I suggest you marry Miss Partridge and the mayor as soon as possible – let him set the example.”
Felicity’s eyes lit up. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Good day.” Percy nodded, glared at Rev. Hammond, then ducked back inside his office.
“He’s not very friendly, is he?” Felicity commented.
“Percy? No, only when it suits him. But he’s punctual, I’ll give him that.” He blew out a breath and gazed up the street. “Shall we continue?”
“How about we find Mayor Hardt instead and you marry us?”
He closed his eyes a moment, as if he was steeling himself for something. Then his head came up at a commotion a few buildings down.
HONK!
“Oh dear,” Felicity laughed.
Da
niel honked and flapped his way toward them, his mistress hot on his heels. “Daniel! You come back here!” Molly cried as she closed in on him.
Felicity and Rev. Hammond leaped out of the way as Daniel headed straight for them. Felicity suddenly found herself between the wall of the land office and Chase Hammond’s broad chest, his body protecting her from Daniel’s beak. The goose ran past, Molly still trailing.
Percy poked his head out the door again, took one look at Felicity and her human shield and gasped. “Rev. Hammond!”
“Percy, you know better,” the reverend scolded.
“Do I?” the other man snapped. “Then why are you still standing there like that?”
Felicity felt her body flush with embarrassment – and something else – at the warmth of Chase Hammond’s body. He smelled clean, like fresh snow, mixed with what had to be his own scent. She breathed through her nose, fascinated by it, before propriety caught up with her.
The reverend, thankfully, had his emotions in hand. “Because I was busy answering you, Percy,” he replied as he stepped away. “Are you all right?” he asked Felicity.
She stared up at him, the air around them suddenly colder now that he wasn’t pressed against her. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m fine.” She had a sudden notion to ask what his middle name was, but tamped it down. It would be improper under the circumstances. Chase was a nice name, though …
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“What? Oh yes, quite.” She shivered, and not just because of the cold wind sweeping down the street. Still, if they didn’t get inside somewhere, she swore she’d turn to ice. “Coffee.”
“Excuse me?”
“Coffee. Is there someplace we can get something hot to drink?”
“Yes, of course.” He studied her a moment, took her by the hand and led her back the way they’d come. His hand around hers brought back the warmth she’d felt when he was protecting her from Daniel’s thumping wings. Speaking of which … “Did he get you?”
“Who?”
“Daniel. Did he bite you?”
“Just a nip. Not to worry – I doubt he’ll suffer any ill effects.”
She laughed. “I should hope not. And, thank you for …” she blushed. “… keeping me safe.”
He glanced at her as they walked. “It was the gentlemanly thing to do. Besides, I’m no stranger to the terrors of geese. A neighbor in St. Louis had one. His name was Brutus.”
“Brutus?” she said with a smile. “As in the Roman Brutus?”
“Yes, and he lived up to his name. I hated that bird.”
“With a name like that I can see why. But Daniel’s nothing of the sort. He’s a kind goose.”
“Kind being relative when it comes to geese. And I gather he’s not the type to be tied down?”
Felicity laughed again, despite her teeth chattering.
He put a hand on the small of her back and steered her into the street, toward the restaurant she’d noticed the day before. He grabbed the door to open it, but it was locked. “Hmph. Looks like Nacho took the day off. Well, it is Christmas.”
“Nacho?”
“Ignacio Villanueva – he owns the place. And he’s Miss Zapatero’s intended.” Rev. Hammond sighed. “This means we’ll have to have coffee at the saloon.”
“That’s fine, so long as it’s hot.”
He saw her shivers, took her hand again and led her down the road.
It felt heavenly, and Felicity bit her lower lip. She shouldn’t feel such things, especially for one who wasn’t her betrothed – and a preacher, no less! She had to remind herself of that, and her mission.
* * *
Chase put his hand behind his back and shook it out. Not that it did any good. His fingers felt as if they were still holding Felicity Partridge’s. He never should’ve touched her in the first place, but for some unexplainable reason he had anyway. This wasn’t going to sit well with Charlie, especially when he decided he wanted the woman. Worse, did Charlie know an inspector was coming? And why oh why did that rat Percy blurt it out in front of Miss Partridge?
The Denver and Pacific RR sending someone to make sure the grooms married by the deadline wasn’t going to put dear Charlie in the best of moods.
Speaking of which, where was Charlie? He had to be around town somewhere – it was Christmas, and Chase knew his friend celebrated as much as the next man. Then again, with matrimony so heavy in the air – at least he hoped it would be – the mayor might be in hiding.
“Here we are, Miss Partridge,” Chase said, opening the doors of the saloon and ushering her inside. She shuddered as the warm air hit her, and for a moment he felt the urge to pull her into his arms. Great Scott, where did that come from?
“It feels so good in here,” she commented as she looked around. “Where’s the barkeep?”
“He might be out back,” Chase said, also noting Seamus’ absence. He escorted her to his office/table as some miners entered. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He hurried to the kitchen – Seamus didn’t mind him strolling back and getting himself a cup.
When he entered the room it smelled like a fresh pot had just been brewed. Chase grabbed a tray off a nearby table, gathered what he needed and poured two cups. He returned, tray in hand to their table –
– and stopped short. The miners were gathered around Miss Partridge, who was not only speaking with them, but laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“These gentlemen were just telling me that they’re not used to seeing a woman in this establishment – or should I say, a lady,” she added with a smirk.
“Merry Christmas, Rev!” one of the miners greeted.
“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled absently. “Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?”
Oops – he must’ve given them his hellfire-and-brimstone look. Two of them backed up. He blinked a few times to relax his face. He hadn’t given anyone that look in a long time. Of course, it couldn’t compare with Charlie’s, but it did its job.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Miss Partridge asked.
“Of course,” he said, giving her his attention. “Nice hot coffee – this’ll warm you up.” He glanced at one of the miners. “Any idea where Seamus is?”
The miner barked a laugh. “Last I saw him, he was helping some woman chase a goose down the street.”
Miss Partridge giggled. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to forgive me, but poor Daniel. I do hope your bartender’s simply helping Molly and not planning to cook him.”
“That makes two of us,” Chase said dryly.
“Funniest dang thing I ever saw,” another miner commented.
Chase sat and handed Miss Partridge a cup. “Will there be anything else, gentlemen?”
“Nossir, Reverend – we’ll just mosey on,” one of them said. The group wandered to the other side of the saloon, sat at a table and started a game of cards.
Miss Partridge cleared her throat. “Parishioners?”
Chase smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes. You’ve met one of them already.”
She glanced at the table across the saloon. “I have? Which one?”
“Sam Goodwin. You saw him briefly in the front hall of your accommodations yesterday.” Perhaps this wasn’t the most appropriate conversation topic, but he couldn’t help saying it. The situation was funny, given a day’s distance.
She glanced over again. “Ah yes … I recognize him now. At first I didn’t. He has clothes on.”
“Sam had at least half his clothes on yesterday. His brother was the one wearing less. Sugar?”
She smiled. “Yes, please. You are an unusual man, Rev. Hammond.”
He handed her the spoon. “How so?”
She began to put sugar into her coffee. “You make light of serious situations. But I have to say, your attitude makes me feel better about them. If my mother and her friends had seen what myself and my fellow brides had, well … she’d have had you all arrested.”
“Yes, well, there’d ha
ve been a problem with that. After all, it was our sheriff who summoned the courage to tell the madam and her girls they’d have to relocate temporarily last night.”
“Not a labor for the faint of heart,” she replied archly. She stirred her coffee, took a test sip and apparently found it adequate. “Rev. Hammond, what exactly was that gentleman Percy you spoke with earlier saying? Something about his uncle and time and results?”
He winced and drummed his fingers on the tabletop a few times, but didn’t answer.
Clearly that wasn’t the response Felicity had hoped for. She took another sip and sat back in her chair. “I am all ears.”
He stalled for a few more seconds before sighing and meeting her eyes. “Miss Partridge, I need to be honest with you.”
“Haven’t you been?”
Chase sighed in resignation. “Not entirely.”
Chapter 11
Felicity studied the man sitting across from her. He was so unlike the rough, unshaven miners she’d been speaking with. Yet she had to admit, the miners had been very polite. Maybe Rev. Hammond was rubbing off on them. And maybe, just maybe, the preacher was right – Noelle needed women that could bring goodness and virtue to the dying town and save it. But would they be enough? And what detail was he still holding back?
The reverend nodded once to himself, then said in a rush, “We have twelve days to get all of you married.”
Felicity shook her head. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said … that we have only until the sixth of January until the deadline.” He shut his eyes tight and rubbed his face a few times. “If all the brides and grooms marry by then, Percy’s uncle, who’s a bigwig with the railroad, will see to it that the railroad comes to Noelle. If they don’t, he doesn’t – and the town is as good as dead.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He looked at her with a limp smile. “Miss Partridge, can you see my dilemma? I’m not sure if half these men even still want to get married. And Mrs. Walters is more than a little upset with me …”
“Is she ever,” she muttered without thinking.
“… and though twelve days might seem like plenty of time, the way things are going it won’t be enough.”
