A Bargain Struck (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

  ‘It is a difficult situation. Very difficult,’ she repeated, and she started to darn the hole.

  ‘I don’t want you to think I don’t criticise Bridget for her behaviour,’ he went on, ‘because I do. But if I punish her every time she’s rude or drops food down her dress, I’ll harden her against you, and I’ll be blaming her for something that’s partly my doing.’

  ‘Your doing?’ Ellen stopped sewing and stared at him in surprise.

  ‘Yup. I should’ve given her time to get used to the idea of me marrying again before I brought you home, but I didn’t. I’m at fault for that, and I recognise it.’ He paused for a moment. ‘But I reckon you deserve some of the blame for what Bridget’s feeling, too,’ he added.

  ‘So do I,’ she said. ‘I don’t blame Bridget for any of this. I understand how unwelcome this all must be for her, and I can see that I’ve made the situation worse than it needed to be. I’m sorry for that.’

  ‘At least we agree on that.’

  ‘And I’m sure we can also agree that this would have been hard for her, no matter how much time you’d told her in advance, and no matter what your new wife looked like. She’s had you to herself for a year and she won’t want to share you with anyone. It’s natural for her to feel the way she does.’

  ‘I don’t know that I do agree. You’re forgetting, she wouldn’t have had a problem with Oonagh. You heard her.’

  ‘Oonagh has one big advantage over me, and I don’t mean her face.’ She gave him a quick smile. ‘It’s that Oonagh isn’t married to you. Bridget won’t see her as a threat in any way. But if you’d actually married Oonagh, Bridget might well have found that hard to accept. She might even have found it harder to accept Oonagh than she finds it to accept me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t agree with you there. There’s no reason for you to think that.’

  ‘With such a good-looking woman for your wife, Bridget might have feared that one day Oonagh would replace her mother in your heart. If so, that would completely change her attitude towards her. But every time she looks at me, she can see that I’ll never be any sort of threat to her mother’s memory.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘OK. I take your point.’

  ‘But I admit that she might have accepted me more quickly if I had just been plain, and not scarred as I am. And that’s my fault. I didn’t think how it would be for her, me looking like this. I thought only of how much I wanted a home and a family.’

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and stared at her in curiosity. ‘But you were in your brother’s house. And your father was there. Was that not home and family enough for you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. My brother’s in comfortable circumstances. He’s an ambitious man, and his wife is ambitious for him. So, too, is my father. My brother’s always wanted to be a senator and is hoping to get elected to the Nebraskan legislature. When I moved into his home after the accident, I was told by him, his wife, and by my father that I must do nothing to ruin his chances. I was there to look after my brother’s three children, and I must never be seen. I had to remain in the kitchen or in my room whenever they had visitors.’

  ‘But was there nothing else you could do? It takes a strong woman to do what you did – travel a distance to marry a man you’d never met – and strong women have no need to rely on a man to provide a home. You have education. Could you not have found work in Omaha and set up home by yourself?’

  ‘It’s an overcrowded city, and everyone’s looking for work. It wouldn’t have been easy for a woman as scarred as I am to find a job. I would have had to take anything I was offered, no matter how unpleasant, no matter how badly paid. Omaha’s full of tired, overworked women, who have insufficient to eat in the winter, and who fear daily that they’ll lose their jobs. I would have become one of them, except that I’d have had the extra burden of a damaged face, which means that I’d have lived with an even greater fear of losing my place of work than most.’

  ‘I can see how that wouldn’t have been a good life.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t have felt safe, living alone in a place where there’s such a fearful amount of gambling, drinking and worse. So many of its leaders are corrupt that there’s little being done to clean up the town, and there’s unrest everywhere, which has led to riots. I felt that I had no real choice but to go to my brother’s house. But with my life there being so unpleasant … living in his home in the way I was … and then I saw your advertisement … But I should have been honest with you from the start.’

  ‘You’re right about that. But I can understand why you did it, and I reckon we can put that in the past now, don’t you?’

  ‘Thank you.’ She hesitated. ‘While we’re talking about Omaha, something you said earlier started me thinking. Why didn’t you try to find a wife in Wyoming or in some other place closer than Omaha?’

  ‘I didn’t really want the people of Liberty to know what my thoughts were. There was a chance that they’d find out if I advertised in the area. Denver and Cheyenne felt too close to risk it, so I thought I’d try Omaha. It’s on the railroad so anyone living there could get to me.’

  ‘I’m glad that you did.’ She paused. ‘You know that I don’t ask for anything from you, Connor, except kindness, and maybe a little warmth,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I ask for no more than that. You should realise that.’ She moved the petticoat closer to the lamp and resumed her sewing.

  ‘I do,’ he said. His eyes were drawn to her bent head, to the sheen on her light-brown hair which she’d tucked behind her ears. He lowered his gaze to her cheek.

  As Ellen pushed the needle through the material, she felt his eyes on the side of her face. Resisting the impulse to pull her hair back across her cheek, she glanced up at him.

  ‘Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked, putting the petticoat down and starting to stand up.

  ‘No, not a thing. To be honest, I was thinking that I’d fair forgotten what it was like to sit and talk with someone at the end of a day’s work.’

  A sense of pleasure rose within her. Sitting back down, she picked up her needle again.

  ‘I’m sorry for you, Ellen,’ he went on quietly. ‘You’ve not had an easy time since your husband’s death. You’ll not find me making many demands of you.’

  She looked up at him, words of gratitude hovering on her lips, and she saw his clear-blue eyes on her face, eyes that were warm with sympathy, and her words wouldn’t come.

  Unable to tear her gaze away from him, she traced the planes of his face, hewn out of gold in the light of the lamp, the firm line of his jaw, the sun-browned chest, visible through the open neck of his flannel shirt, and she felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his skin.

  She looked back into his eyes.

  A sudden sharp ache stabbed her in the pit of her stomach, and her mouth felt dry. Her eyes threatening to fill with tears, she looked quickly down at her sewing.

  Chapter Seven

  Liberty lay ahead of them, a sprawling patch of brown set on a wide expanse of open grassland. Beyond the town, a line of trees marked the passage of the river that flowed down from the purple-hazed hills and meandered across the plain. From the town itself, plumes of white smoke rose from the stovepipes that broke through the roofs of the wooden houses, and drifted upwards to the endless blue sky, dissolving into nothingness in the cloudless heights above.

  By the time that they’d reached the first of the town buildings, steam was rising from the flanks of the horses that were pulling their wagon. As they turned on to the wide dirt track that cut through the centre of the town, Connor tugged on the reins to slow the horses, guiding them with skilful ease between the wagons and horses that moved through the town at varying speeds and in different directions. Clouds of dust, thrown up by feet and hooves, climbed the sides of the wagon, and Ellen tasted grit.

  She wiped her mouth with her hand, glancing from one side to the other at the people walking along the sidewalks.

  ‘
I reckon Liberty must seem mighty small to you after Omaha,’ he said, ‘but it seems pretty big to us. When Ma and Pa settled here, there were buildings on only one side of the street. All they had was one store, a meeting house, and a few small cabins with only two or three rooms. But look at it now.’ He indicated on either side of them. ‘We’ve got a general merchandise store, which is where we’re heading first of all, a bank, a telegraph office, a blacksmith’s and a livery stable that’ll take a fair number of horses. And there’s O’Shaughnessy’s for ladies’ clothes and sewing things. And we’ve even got a sheriff. We’ve also got a saloon with a billiard parlour, and a roadhouse. And a school and a church, of course. And a doc.’

  ‘It’s larger than I thought it’d be,’ she said, and she pulled on the ribbons of her bonnet, hugging it closer into her face.

  ‘And it’s still growing,’ he went on. ‘Those two blocks haven’t been up long enough to have gone grey.’ He pointed to the left-hand side of the street, to a row of pine buildings fronted by a board sidewalk lined with hitching posts and occasional troughs of water. ‘They’ve also recently built a town hall with jails in it just back from the road. That’s where the sheriff has his office.’ He looked back to the track ahead. ‘Nope,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘There’s not much you can’t get in Liberty now.’

  ‘It has the air of a fine town,’ she said. ‘And there’s no smell of slurry or stock pens, not like the towns the train stopped at. Most of those towns were crowded and noisy, and they reeked of animals, sweat and stale grease. But Liberty seems very pleasant.’

  He smiled at her and opened his mouth as if about to say something.

  ‘Martha!’ they heard Bridget scream from behind them. ‘Wait for me!’ A loud scrambling came from the back of the wagon, and Bridget’s face appeared in the gap between their arms. ‘Stop, Pa, I wanna get down. I’ve just seen Martha. She’s gonna be startin’ school, too, and we’ve gotta talk.’ Her head disappeared and they heard her call again to Martha.

  ‘Martha’s one of Abigail and Elijah Carey’s two children. They’re our neighbours who live in the opposite direction from Peggy,’ he said, pulling on the reins and bringing the horses to a stop just before they reached a large, high-fronted building made of wide, grey boards, which stood by itself a little way back from the track. He indicated the building. ‘That’s Massie’s. It’s where we’re headed first of all. And then you’ll be wanting O’Shaughnessy’s. You’ll find that almost opposite.’ He climbed down, looped the reins around the nearest hitching post, and moved to the rear of the wagon.

  ‘OK, Bridget, out you get,’ Ellen heard him say. She moved on her seat to watch him as he unhooked the thin metal bar that ran across the rear of the wagon. Bridget stepped over the back, put her foot on the large wheel to her right and jumped down. ‘You can go and say hello to Martha now,’ Conn said, ‘but leave the rest of your talking till later on. We’ve got chores to do first.’

  Turning back to face the front of the wagon, Ellen tied the ribbons of her bonnet more tightly.

  Her back on her father, Bridget ran, beaming, to where her friend was waiting for her on the sidewalk.

  ‘What are you getting today?’ Martha asked. ‘Pa’s getting me material for a new dress, and a slate and other things for school.’

  ‘Me, too. What colour dress are you gonna have?’

  ‘Red, I guess. Or maybe blue. Ma’s already made me a grey smock. What about you? I saw Annie earlier. Her ma’s made her a green dress and a green smock.’

  ‘You’re lucky, and so’s Annie. Pa said I had to get a brown dress. I’ve got to get it from O’Shaughnessy’s. I’d rather have any colour other than brown. Brown’s boring.’ Bridget pulled a face.

  Martha giggled.

  ‘But brown it’s gonna be, Bridget,’ she heard her father call.

  ‘Please, Pa, can’t I have a coloured dress?’ she begged, turning towards him.

  ‘Brown,’ he repeated, his voice firm, and he finished helping Ellen down from the wagon and started walking towards the line of pails at the foot of the steps leading up to Massie’s.

  Martha jumped from the sidewalk on to the track, took a couple of steps forward and stared open-mouthed at Ellen.

  Looking around her, Ellen stopped abruptly when she saw Martha. She put her hand to her bonnet.

  ‘Who’s that ugly woman with your pa?’ Martha asked loudly, a look of disgust on her face.

  ‘Pa’s gotten her in to run the house,’ Bridget said, narrowing her eyes as she looked past Martha to Ellen. ‘She’s gonna do the chores. Now that I’m startin’ school, I’ll be out all day, and he’s gotta have someone in the house to do all the things I’ve been doing.’

  ‘Is that just till he marries Miss Quinn?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Who said he’s gonna marry Miss Quinn?’

  ‘My folks. The whole town knows he is. You’re so lucky. She’s real pretty, and she’ll be able to dress your hair and make you look pretty, too.’

  Bridget pulled at her red curls. ‘I wish I had dark hair like yours. No one could make my hair look pretty.’

  ‘I bet Miss Quinn could.’

  Bridget shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, Miss Quinn teaches school so she wouldn’t be able to do the milking.’

  ‘Come on, Bridget.’ She glanced up and saw her father standing by the wagon, a pail of water in each hand. He put the water in front of the horses and stroked their manes. ‘Time to be moving,’ he said. ‘Since you’re over there, maybe you’d get the empty kerosene can from the back of the wagon.’ He gave a nod to Martha. ‘Give my regards to your ma and pa, won’t you?’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr Maguire. See you later, Bridget. I can’t wait to tell Ma and Pa what a funny-lookin’ woman your pa’s taken on.’ And she ran off.

  Feeling red with embarrassment at being in any way associated with Ellen, Bridget reached into the back of the wagon and pulled out the empty kerosene can. She stood still, glaring at her father, waiting for him and the woman to walk off towards Massie’s, then she followed slowly, keeping a distance behind them.

  They reached the steps that led up to the entrance to the general merchandise store and climbed up to the porch. Connor sensed Ellen slow down and he stopped. He saw her glance at the open door, and take a step back. ‘You and Bridget go on in,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait here. It’s better that way,’ she said, her back against the wooden railing.

  ‘I don’t think so. I’d rather you came in and chose for yourself the things you put on the list,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re gonna have to go in some time. Better to get it over with now when we’re all together. You’ll not be alone. I’ll be with you, and so will Bridget.’ He looked behind him and saw that Bridget was still at the foot of the steps. She was tapping the bottom stair with the toe of her boot. ‘I’ll go and talk to her,’ he said with a sigh, and he went back down the steps, two at a time.

  ‘What are you waiting for, Bridget? If carrying an empty can was too much to ask you to do, you can give it to me and I’ll get it filled, but there are things you need from the store, and that means you’ve gotta come in with us. When you’ve done that, you and Ellen can go to O’Shaughnessy’s and see about a dress for school while I go to the livery stables. So can we go in now?’

  Bridget kicked the step hard. ‘I reckon I can look for a dress by myself. I don’t need help.’

  ‘Well, I think you do, and I want you to go with Ellen. If your ma had been here, she’d have gone with you. She wouldn’t have let you choose by yourself.’

  ‘But she’s not here, is she? I haven’t got a ma.’ She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Please don’t make me go with her, Pa. Please.’

  He glanced helplessly up at Ellen. She gave him a slight nod, and he turned back to his daughter. ‘All right, then. You can go to the store by yourself. I reckon Ellen and I can get the things you need from here. When you’ve found a dress, you come back and tell me, and we’ll go and look at it together
. And don’t forget, I said a brown dress. They don’t get so dirty-looking.’

  ‘Thanks, Pa.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, turned and ran across the street to the opposite sidewalk. Connor watched her until she’d disappeared into one of the stores, then he went slowly back up to the porch.

  ‘Well, I guess that was to be expected,’ he said. ‘Come on. Let’s make a start on the list.’ He held out his hand to Ellen. A look of surprise crossed her face, and she hesitantly took it.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  He glanced down at her. ‘It’ll be all right. They’ll soon get used to the way you look. The first time is the worst, and there’s only one first time. After today, you’ll not be afeared.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘And nor will I. I’ve gotta face it just like you have. You think they won’t be talking about me? Well, they sure will. So come, Ellen, let’s go in.’

  He turned to face the dark interior of Massie’s, drew in a deep breath, and led her through the doorway. He saw that her eyes were firmly on the thin veil of sawdust covering the floorboards as she walked beside him into the shop. Then his hand felt empty as she pulled hers away and moved instantly to the side wall.

  He made straight for the board counter, which ran for the length of the building. Nodding at the man in dusty blue denim overalls next to him who was looking at a seed catalogue, Connor stood the empty can on the counter and glanced along the shelves that lined the wall behind the counter, scanning the tin pans, pots, lanterns and bolts of different coloured cloth.

  A thin young man came forward to serve him. Connor pushed the can across to him. ‘Fill this, would you, Ezra?’ he asked. ‘And I need some more salt to put in the glass bowl of the lamp. It’s low and I don’t want to risk the kerosene exploding.’ He took his list from his pocket and ran his eyes down the items again.

  ‘You fill the can, Ezra, and I’ll serve Conn,’ a voice boomed out. Connor looked up and smiled at the large red-whiskered man who was walking down from the far end of the store, wiping the dirt from his hands with his dark-grey apron.