Emer: Clover Springs Mail Order Brides

by Rachel Wesson

  Chapter 8

  Emer took a couple of seconds to consider her options. It wouldn’t do any harm to have lunch with the priest. A free meal wasn’t something she could pass up lightly, especially now when it looked like she would need to find a job. She followed Father Molloy out of the church and into his house. Enticing smells had them both sniffing the air appreciatively.

  “Mrs. Raines is an amazing cook.” Father Molloy patted his round belly. “Some may say too good.”

  Mrs. Raines stopped dead at the sight of Emer.

  “What on earth?”

  “Mrs. Raines, this is Emer Matthews.”

  “Emer, you’re a girl. What are you dressed like a boy for? You in trouble? We don’t need any trouble here.”

  Emer stared back at the other woman, whose disapproval was written all over her face.

  Father Molloy coughed loudly. Emer watched the red stain move up the housekeeper’s neck and into her face.

  “What I meant to say was, you look hungry. Why don’t you sit and eat?”

  Emer put her bag at her side before taking a seat. They enjoyed an excellent lunch, despite the housekeeper’s tutting and raised eyebrows.

  Father Molloy told Emer a few stories about her granny. He also shared tidbits of information about Sorcha, her sister.

  “She looks rather like you. Yes, the family resemblance is quite strong. No wonder I thought I had met you before.”

  Emer wished the priest had a picture. After they finished lunch, the priest suggested they retire to the sitting room to enjoy their coffee in comfort. Mrs. Raines fussed around the old man, insisting he put a rug over his legs and replace his shoes with slippers. After sitting for a while in companionable silence, Father Molloy sat up straighter.

  “Why did you run away, Emer?”

  “I didn’t run, Father. I told you I had to come and find my sister.”

  “You could have written a letter. No. When you have been a priest for as long as I have, you develop a sixth sense. I can see you are in trouble or at least you were. So, please tell me, why did you run?”

  “I had to, Father.” Emer hoped her clipped tone would prevent him asking any further questions.

  “Tell me, child. A trouble shared is a trouble halved.”

  “Patty—I mean, Ma—wanted me to live with this man. He wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t decent or anything but he was powerful and dangerous. She was worried he’d do something to her if she didn’t give me to him.”

  The frown on Father Molloy’s face made him rather fierce looking.

  “Give you? You are not an object for one person to play with.”

  “You try telling that to my Ma.” Emer had to change the subject. She didn’t know how the priest would react to knowing she had spent the last two years living with a fallen woman. Not much different to growing up with outlaws, she guessed. “She’s good at giving away her kids. Apart from Sorcha, is there any more of us out there?”

  “I don’t know, Emer. I didn’t know your ma but as I told you over lunch, I knew your grandmother very well. She was a fine, decent woman. Did her best for Sorcha. She kept her living with her for years. I think she thought Patricia may come back to claim her. She used to say she would when she was settled.”

  “Good job she died, then, as she would have been waiting forever.”

  “Emer.” Father Molloy’s tone held a hint of reproof. “You may not like her but she’s still your ma. She did come back once. She spent a few days with your granny but then she went away again. I think she may have wanted to leave you here, but your granny was an old woman at that point. She couldn’t handle another child.”

  “Nobody wanted me. That’s the story of my life, Father. Emer forced herself to look out the window. She didn’t like showing weakness to anyone, not even a priest.

  “Sadie Matthews wasn’t like that. She would have gone to the end of the earth for her family but as I said, she was old. She begged Patricia to give you to the nuns to take care of. She had a hope you and Sorcha might be adopted by the same family.” Father Molloy sighed before taking a drink of his coffee. “Anyway, one day you were here staying with Sadie and the next you were gone. Broke Sadie’s heart. She died not long after.”

  Emer’s heart twisted for the grandmother she never knew. What would her life have been like if the woman had taken her in? Or Patty had given her to the orphanage? The dream of Sorcha being adopted didn’t happen if her sister had been there until she was eighteen.

  “Sorcha wasn’t adopted.”

  “No. It wasn’t possible as her mother was still alive.”

  “Was Sorcha happy with the nuns?”

  A cloud flitted over the priest’s face and he suddenly found the view outside the window very interesting. “Is that the time? We best find Mrs. Raines and get you settled for tonight. We will write to Sorcha tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Father. You have been very kind.”

  The priest gave her arm a quick rub as he called for the housekeeper.

  “I am not at all sure about letting you travel all that way on your own, though.”

  Emer pretended not to hear him. Just you try and stop me, Father.

  Chapter 9

  Lawrence Shipley kicked off his shoes before sinking into the cushions of the sofa. The butler poured a snifter for him. He needed it after the talk with his father. It had taken him ages to convince his father to let him go to Denver to set up the new branch of Shipley Bank.

  Father had wanted Roger to go. Lawrence frowned. Father still believed his older brother had more experience, and being older and married meant he was more mature. What did being married have to do with setting up a bank? In Father’s eyes, it meant Roger was more conservative and less likely to take risks.

  He was a mature twenty-three-year-old. Sure, he liked to have fun. He had done everything his parents expected and more in the two years he had been forced to go work in the bank.

  "Hello, darling. Why aren't you dressed for dinner?"

  "Mother." Lawrence stood to kiss his mother on the cheek. When she sat down, he poured another drink before taking his seat.

  "Isn't it rather early?"

  "No, Mother." Lawrence drained the drink, ignoring the look his actions received.

  "What are you sulking about now, Lawrence?"

  "I am not sulking, Mother. I have had a long day."

  "Did your Father agree to you going to Denver?"

  "What do you know about that?"

  "Lawrence, dear. Your father and I have been married a long time. There is very little I don’t know about. Your boorish behavior would imply he decided not to send you."

  "Oh, no, he's sending me all right."

  "So why the long face? Isn't this what you said you wanted?"

  "Yes, it is, but Father insisted Mitchell come, too."

  "Ah."

  "Exactly, Mother. Father obviously doesn’t think I am up to the job. That's why he saddled me with ferret-face."

  "Lawrence. Mitchell is a long-serving bank employee, not to mention a distant cousin. His knowledge and experience will assist you in Denver. It is not like Boston."

  "It's hardly the Wild West, Mother. There are many banks in Denver and in surrounding areas. I have completed the two years experience in the Boston office under my darling brother's guidance.” Lawrence tried to modulate his tone. Irritating his mother would only lead to more problems. “I met all of Father's requirements and now he saddles me with Mitchell. Well, I simply won't agree to it."

  "Lawrence, for all your bluster about being an adult, you are very immature. Have I not told you over and over again, life is a series of battles? There are some you must win and there are those you don't enter into at all.” His mother took a dainty sip of her drink before continuing. “Mitchell is part of the package. Going to Denver or not is your choice but Mitchell goes regardless."

  Lawrence couldn’t help but be impressed. Behind his mother's flawless beauty was a rock solid business mind. If
she'd been born a man, she could run for president. Perish the thought. Mother in charge of the country didn’t bear thinking about.

  "Now, go get dressed for dinner. The Histons are coming. You remember their daughter, Alicia. Such a charming girl and wealthy in her own right."

  "Don't start that again, Mother."

  "I am simply stating a fact. Alicia Histon is a beautiful, talented, wealthy young lady. A perfect asset for a vice president of Shipley Bank."

  "Marry her to Mitchell, then. She'd appeal to him. He hasn't a mind of his own, either."

  Lawrence watched his mother’s reaction closely. She was quick to hide the glint of amusement behind her usual mask. "Mitchell’s future is none of my concern. Robert is already married so I get to put my undivided attention into finding you a suitable companion.”

  Lawrence groaned. "Mother, really. Do you have to sound so clinical? Where's your romance? What about marrying for love?"

  "Love is for peasants. I barely knew your father before we got married and we have a good relationship.”

  Lawrence winced. His parents weren’t close. They put on a performance whenever they had guests, but in reality, they spent little time together. Father preferred other, younger female company. He wasn’t sure whether Mother knew or not. He wasn’t going to be the one to enlighten her. It didn’t do to get on the wrong side of his mother.

  “You have a duty to this family, Lawrence." His mother’s tone held more than a trace of steel. "Never forget who holds the purse strings." Once more the mask descended and his mother turned back into the social butterfly. "Now, try not to be late. We do not want to keep Alicia and her parents waiting."

  Dinner was a tortuous affair. As he'd suspected, Alicia seemed incapable of having an intelligent conversation. Sure, she was pretty but his sister’s dolls had more life.

  His mother hinted, more than once, he should take her for a walk around the gardens, staying within sight of the balcony window. Finally, he bowed to the less than subtle hints. Taking Alicia by the arm, he walked her around the gardens, trying his best to look interested in her chatter. Alicia talked about the flowers but he didn’t listen after the first few minutes. He pandered to her for a while but couldn't restrain a yawn of boredom. She had fled back to her parents in tears, getting him a dressing down from his mother, along with another lecture on his duty to his family. Duty and banking. There had to be more to life.

  Chapter 10

  Emer knocked at the door. Mrs. Raines opened it and escorted her into the front parlor. “Father Molloy will be with you shortly. Would you like tea while you wait?”

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Raines.”

  Emer sat in the slightly shabby room looking around her. She was tired, having spent the last few days trying to find work. She hated wearing dresses but Mrs. Raines had insisted. It wasn’t decent for a young lady to be wearing pants.

  Harvey had been right. There wasn’t much call for a girl like her in Boston. She didn’t think to get a reference from Minnie before she left on her travels. The cafes and hotels she had tried didn’t believe she had experience. There seemed to be thousands of others looking for work. At this rate, she would never get to Clover Springs. The cost of the train ticket was way beyond her budget.

  She needed a miracle.

  The door opened and Father Molloy came in, his face creased in a smile.

  “Good morning, Emer. How are you this fine day?”

  Emer couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to disappoint him. He seemed so happy.

  “Have you found a job yet?”

  “No, Father. There are some opportunities I have yet to explore.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “What?” Emer wondered if the priest was drunk but there was no smell of alcohol.

  “I’ve been offered a fantastic opportunity. I told Katie I would see her again.”

  Katie? Who was she? Maybe she should call Mrs. Raines.

  “Of course, I forgot. You won’t know who Katie is or Mary for that matter. But you will soon enough. I am going to Clover Springs and taking you with me.”

  Emer couldn’t speak but simply stared at the priest.

  “Cat got your tongue? Did you hear what I said? I thought you wanted to meet your sister.”

  “I do, Father, but I don’t understand. How? When?”

  “I ran into an old parishioner. I wasn’t always parish priest in this district. I have some very wealthy parishioners and one of them is traveling to Denver. They have offered to let us join them in their private car.”

  Emer’s excitement vanished. She had seen first-hand what wealthy people did to those who didn’t fit in their circles. “Charity, you mean.”

  “An act of kindness, my dear Miss Matthews. One neither of us can afford to turn down.” Father Molloy’s tone irritated Emer. She wasn’t a child.

  “Father, you take their charity. I can’t. I don’t have any suitable clothes to wear to be traveling with rich folks.” Emer stood. “I will be on my way. Tell Sorcha I will see her sometime.”

  “Emer Matthews, sit back down. Some day we will discuss the sin of pride. The Shipleys are one of the most prominent families in Boston. They will have their own private car on that train.” Father Molloy lowered his voice, softening his tone at the same time. “Did your ma never tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth? I can’t tell you how long I have wanted to go check up on my girls.”

  “Katie and Mary?”

  “Yes, both young girls much like yourself when they first left Boston to travel to Colorado. They became mail order brides, just like Sorcha did. All three of them married fine men from what Katie Sullivan tells me in her letters. I would like to meet these men for myself. I would also like to cuddle Ella, Katie’s darling little daughter. Although to be fair, I am not at all certain she is a darling.”

  Emer let the priest ramble on. She had prayed for a miracle and here it was. She could go to Clover Springs and find her sister. And it wouldn’t cost her anything. Only your pride.

  Chapter 11

  Clover Springs

  Sorcha rubbed the clothes with soap. Her fingers hurt at the friction but the pain didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering. What would her sister be like? Would she bring their ma with her? What would they think of her? Brian? The girls?

  She took her frustration out on the clothes, her actions splashing water over everything in a wide radius. Why did her sister have to make an appearance now? All her life, she had wanted a family. Now she had one. Life was good and yet something was missing. Her sister was her blood. She was also a stranger.

  “What did my brother do to get you so worked up?”

  “Nandita. You’re back. I thought you would be away longer.” Sorcha let the clothes fall back into the tub as she rushed to give her sister-in-law a hug. “Where are the children?”

  “Playing with the girls. See?” Nandita pointed to where the children were playing in the meadow. “So why are you in such a temper?”

  “I was thinking about my sister.”

  “Have you had another letter? You seemed excited the last time when you told Katie and Mary. What’s changed?”

  Sorcha picked up one of Brian’s shirts. It smelled of sweat and horses but still she hugged it close. It was comforting.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  Nandita laughed loudly. “Sorcha Petersen, everyone loves you. You make us feel better.”

  Sorcha put the shirt into the water. She needed to change the subject. “What has Chief Running Buffalo decided?”

  Nandita frowned. “He says the time has come to join the reservation in Montana.”

  The clothes were once more forgotten as Sorcha enveloped Nandita in a rather wet hug.

  “Chief Running Buffalo has had enough. He knows his luck isn’t going to last. He cannot keep outwitting the soldiers. The tribe is hungry and lonely for other family members already living in Montana.”

  “When will he go?”

&nb
sp; “Winter is coming. They need to move soon if they want to be on the reservation before the worst of the weather hits.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Nandita’s gaze moved toward where Brian and Frank were working.

  “I do not know yet.”

  “You have to speak to Frank.”

  Nandita tore her eyes away from the man she loved to look at Sorcha. “How can I? He hasn’t said anything yet.”

  “He loves you, you know he does.”

  “I do not know that, Sorcha, and neither do you.” Nandita stood straighter. “Let me help you with those clothes. The sun will not shine all day.”

  Sorcha knew better than to try to convince Nandita to speak to Frank. Her friend was stubborn and proud.

  After Nandita hung the clothes on the line, she wandered closer to her brother’s work area. She watched as Frank worked, his focus totally centered on the job in hand. His ebony skin glistened with sweat, and every so often he brushed his muscular arm across his forehead.

  He stoked the fire, the heat radiating to where she was standing. How could he bear working near the inferno for hours at a time?

  He wore a thin black leather vest over his chest for protection rather than modesty. His arms and hands bore traces of scars, but not as bad as the ones on his back. She could still feel the groves in his skin from where he had been whipped as a child. Hungry, he had taken some food from his master's plate. The overseer had spotted Frank sharing the scraps with some of the other slave children and decided he had to be punished. He had left the child scarred for life.

  Nandita wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted so much to make a life with this man. They had shared more than a few stolen kisses. She smiled, thinking of the night they had swam in the river. She’d been bathing while Little Beaver kept watch. Her stepson, distracted by an animal, had run off to hunt leaving her alone.