by Kit Morgan
“I’m not sure if he did it himself or hired somebody. Never thought to ask.” Baxter felt the toes of his exposed foot go numb. He wasn’t making the impression he wanted.
“I see.”
“Well … there must be things where you’re from you never asked about.”
“Of course – a lot of things. But New York is a big city – I couldn’t trouble myself with all that asking.”
Baxter went rigid. “N-New York City?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Yes. Surely you knew where I was from.”
“New York state, yes, but … I thought maybe some village or … someplace.” How could he not know this? But they’d only exchanged one letter each – he sent one to the bridal agency back east, and got an acceptance letter from her with the date and time of her arrival. That was it. He knew he was taking a huge risk, but he really wanted a wife. Maybe now he could build his own place, instead of living under his father’s roof.
Great Scott, what would Lula do when she found that out? And her from New York City! He hazarded a glance in her direction, hoping she couldn’t see him begin to sweat.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, not at all,” he said, just keeping his voice even. He smiled and hoped she didn’t think him some country bumpkin. Even her traveling dress looked better than it had before. This was a true lady, obviously far above his station. But … his eyebrows suddenly rose. What then was she doing coming out to the back of the beyond as a mail-order bride? Was she with child? Running from an abusive father? Had she been involved in some sort of evil plot to …?
“Here we are!” Sally announced as she returned to their table with the serving cart. “We have chicken sandwiches and two kinds of soup today – tomato and mulligatawny. I also have sugar cookies and rhubarb pie.”
“It all looks wonderful,” Lula said, eyeing the plate of sandwiches appreciatively.
Baxter’s eyes flicked between Sally and Lula as the sandwiches and soup were served – tomato for him, the funny-sounding one for Lula. What sort of woman was this? And if all was well and she was indeed all he could hope for in a wife, how was he going to convince her to stay? Clear Creek was not a normal town – things happened here that most folks couldn’t explain. But the residents of Clear Creek were used to the occasional odd incident. Strangers, on the other hand …
Then again, if she wasn’t being honest with him – and he’d have to find that out in short order – then best she be off and leave him be.
He closed his eyes as Sally set a bowl of soup in front of him. When had he become so suspicious? So what if the girl was a mail-order bride from New York City? He had to get a hold of himself!
When he opened his eyes Sally and Lula were staring at him. “Something the matter, Baxter?” Sally asked.
Baxter looked at Lula and did his best to sound innocent. “No. Not that I know of.”
Chapter 5
Why was Baxter staring at her like that? Had she done something wrong? Said something wrong? Did he not like what he saw? Was she not measuring up to what he expected in a bride? But they’d just met, for Heaven’s sake! He couldn’t have decided he didn’t like her that quickly!
She reached for a sandwich, put it on her plate … and caught his pointed look before he bowed his head for the blessing. Oh dear, that was a faux pas on her part! She was becoming so flustered she couldn’t think straight. She bowed her head and folded her hands.
After the prayer, he took a sandwich as well, and she watched him carefully as she nibbled her own. Maybe his sore ankle had put him in a bad mood. He did say she wasn’t catching him at his best.
Sally put glasses of lemonade in front of them. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Lula watched her go, then studied the other townsfolk. Baxter’s uncle and cousin were deep in conversation. A man in his thirties with a round face that screamed “Ireland” and a deputy sheriff’s star was holding the hand of a woman his age – his wife, presumably. In a far corner an elderly couple sat enjoying their lunch - they looked to be in their eighties, maybe their nineties. “Who’s that?”
Baxter looked up from his soup and followed her gaze. “That’s Mr. Van Cleet himself and his wife Polly.”
“Really? Will you introduce me? I’d love to tell him what a lovely hotel he has.”
“Er … sure,” he hedged.
The reply confused Lula. “I didn’t mean this minute.”
“Of course not, I … just don’t want to disturb their meal.”
Her brow furrowed. Was he in so much pain he couldn’t talk? Poor man. “You don’t have to if it’s too much for you.”
“Too much?” he said, his eyes darting between her and the Van Cleets. “Not at all.”
“Do they live here at the hotel?”
“They do now – they have a whole suite of rooms in the back of the building. They used to live about a mile out of town, but Cyrus is too old now to bother hitching up their buggy every day. Now they’re close to everything.”
“Especially the doctor, should something ail them,” she commented in understanding.
Baxter began to cough.
Lula patted him on the back. “Oh, you poor thing.”
He held up a hand to still her ministrations. “I’m all right … cough … went down the wrong way.” But he hadn’t been chewing his food or swallowing lemonade. Was he really sick?
“Perhaps you should go home and rest after our lunch,” she suggested.
He shook his head, still recovering. “I’m fine. I have to take care of some business while I’m in town. And get you settled – I’m sure you’ll want to clean up after such a long journey.”
She brushed at the front of her jacket. “Yes, I do.” Her voice was softer than she’d meant it to be. Perhaps she was more worried about him sending her away than she thought. At least he was seeing to her needs. “Thank you.”
He smiled at her before taking another spoonful of soup. “I’ll have to figure out how to introduce you to the family. I drove the wagon to town, but I don’t think I can climb onto it with this ankle – not without help. I’ll have Asher drive me home.”
She glanced at Asher and Levi, still talking. “They look absorbed.”
He watched them a moment. “They’re probably discussing Asher’s move to Boston.”
“Boston?”
He nodded toward Mr. Van Cleet and his wife. “Cyrus willed his shipping business to the Cookes. Asher is great with numbers and he’s agreed to take a position with the business. The Cooke brothers are sending him all expenses paid.”
Lula fidgeted in her chair. Should he be telling her this?
He caught her agitation. “It’s common knowledge. Everyone in town knows.”
She relaxed. “Oh, I see. Small town, everyone knows everyone else’s business?”
“Something like that. Cyrus doesn’t care if folks know who or what he is.”
Her heart skipped a beat. What was that supposed to mean? She leaned toward him. “Is it bad?”
Baxter almost spat out his soup. “No, of course not. It’s just for years no one really knew where he came from or how he had enough money to build this place.”
Lula thought a moment. For some reason the little old man seemed familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. She’d never seen him before … had she?
“Asher’s a lucky fellow to get to go back east and …”
“That’s it!” she blurted.
Baxter, startled, dropped his spoon with a clatter. “What?”
“Mr. Van Cleet, Boston … I remember now. My father’s done business with Van Cleet Shipping in Boston.” She belatedly saw that her excitement had attracted the attention of the man in question – and her betrothed’s eyes were round as saucers. “Baxter? What’s wrong?”
He swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
Poor man. The pain in his ankle must be horrific. “Do you need to rest?” she asked,
putting her hand over his.
“No, I’m fine.” He adjusted himself in his chair. “Um, your father … who is he?”
The arrival of company interrupted before she could answer. “Hello there!” Cyrus Van Cleet said brightly. “Baxter, would you like to introduce me to this lovely lady?”
“Oh yes. Cyrus, may I introduce Miss Lula Stout.”
“Lula Stout … why, you wouldn’t happen to be related to …?”
“Ulysses Stout, yes, I am,” she finished dourly. Just her luck – probably the one person in Oregon who knew of her family’s disgrace. The last thing she needed was part of her old world walking into the hotel. Once Baxter found out, he might throw her on the next eastbound train! But she did her best to put on a brave smile. “How lovely to meet you.”
“Polly!” Mr. Van Cleet called across the room. “Come here a moment.”
The old woman got up and made her way slowly to their table. The couple reminded Lula of a pair of white-haired, merry old elves. They were both spry and sprightly with matching pairs of twinkling blue eyes. It would have been funny had they not been about to announce her shame to her fiancé.
“What is it, dear?” she asked then said, “Oh, Baxter, is this your mail-order bride?”
“Yes, Miss Lula Stout,” he said, keeping the introduction short.
Lula was still smiling stiffly. “Won’t you join us?” Might as well get it over with.
“Certainly,” said Mr. Van Cleet. “I’ll just go fetch … oh, thank you, Asher.” Asher was already heading for the table, the Van Cleets’ plates in hand. “You’re too kind.”
“No problem, sir,” Asher replied. “I’ll let you sit and get to know Baxter’s bride for me. I’m afraid I haven’t time at the moment – business to tend to, you know.”
“Yes!” Cyrus agreed happily. “By all means, finish that up. We’ll keep Baxter’s bride entertained.”
Lula smiled for real now. She liked these people. She just hoped her poor betrothed still wanted her if they chose to share her family’s downfall. He seemed disjointed already, worried, but she didn’t know why. She couldn’t read him, which was irritating, and as a result, her unease grew even as her fondness for the town and its people did. It was an odd and uncomfortable sensation, feeling so out of place.
“This is Ulysses Stout’s daughter, Polly,” Cyrus announced.
“Ulysses Stout … that name’s familiar, but I’m sorry, I don’t recall the man.”
“He and his brother Septimus own a shipping company out of New York, my dear. Reggie and I did business with them when they first started out years ago.” He turned to Lula. “I’ve been in Clear Creek for some time now, but about, oh, fifteen years back, my brother Reggie got himself in a spot of trouble and almost lost the business. I won’t go into detail, but your father and uncle helped us out considerably with some of our contracts.”
“I see,” she said, suddenly cheering up. Lula didn’t know much about her father and uncle’s shipping business, but did know it was competitive and paid for her expensive frocks. If one company helped out another, it said a lot. Maybe Cyrus didn’t even know about its ruination – which was all the better for her. “I’m glad they were able to help.”
Baxter choked again, catching everyone’s attention. “How’s the ankle, Bax?” Asher asked.
“Ankle?” Cyrus said. “What’s wrong with his ankle?”
“Twisted it,” Baxter managed. “Asher, can you take me home later?”
“Certainly,” Asher said. “Let me finish my business with my father.”
“By all means, do,” Cyrus said with a chuckle. “I’m so happy to have your help, Asher – I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Asher smiled gently. “Happy to do it, sir.” He gave Polly and Lula a parting nod and returned to his table.
“Smart boy, that Asher,” Cyrus said. “I’m sure Baxter’s told you a little about my latest enterprise?”
“Enterprise?” Lula said, intrigued. She felt better now speaking with someone who saw her family in a positive light. It made the sensation of being out of place dissipate some.
“Asher going to Boston to help manage his shipping company,” Baxter put in. “Yes, I told her.”
“Oh well, then, there’s nothing more for me to add to that,” Cyrus said cheerily. “Shall we finish our lunch?”
Lula smiled and wanted to hear more, but picked up her sandwich. She didn’t want the conversation to wear on poor Baxter, who at this point was looking rather pale.
* * *
Great. He was sitting with the richest folks in town (next to the Cooke brothers, of course) and they knew Lula’s father, no less! So she not only came from New York City, but was the daughter of a wealthy shipping magnate to boot! Anyone dealing with the Van Cleet Shipping Company had to be worth his salt in business, that was for sure.
So what did that make him? Just what he was, he supposed. The son of a simple blacksmith who married an Englishwoman. And Lena Sayer, though of gentle birth, was by no means rich when she married his father. The Sayer sisters and their cousins came from a little money, but nothing like what Cyrus Van Cleet or the Cooke brothers were worth today.
His appetite gone, he pushed the bowl of soup away. He’d be nothing in her eyes. Why? Because he had nothing, was nothing. Yes, he possessed a college education, but what good was a business degree when he was just going to run a livery stable and blacksmith’s shop? Asher was going to Boston to help Cyrus out. What was Baxter doing? Nothing, plain and simple.
Egads, he still lived under his parents’ roof, something they thought nothing about. When he announced he wanted to get married, they were delighted but neither suggested he get a place of his own. But he knew better – the minute his younger brother Ephraim returned from college, things would get crowded in the Adams’ household. And if he and Lula started having children …
Children. A thrill went up his spine at the thought. But first things first – he had to convince his bride he was worth his salt if he had any hope of her staying. Marrying her right off to seal things seemed unfair. She should get to make up her own mind. That thought made his guilt over his earlier plan pinch, and he fidgeted in his chair.
“It’s your ankle, isn’t it?” Lula asked gently. “Why don’t we call it a day? You must rest.”
Her concern touched him, and ignited in response. “Thank you, but I’ll see to it once you’ve finished eating and are settled in your room. There’s hot and cold running water,” he quickly added, hoping it would ease his mind. It wasn’t guilt he felt, or fear … worry? Well, of a kind. If he was honest with himself, he was worried over a blatant sense of inadequacy. He was no coward, but he knew that once she found out he had little to offer, he’d have to face his shortcomings head-on, and that feeling of not measuring up.
Baxter was expecting a woman that wanted to get married, who desired a husband and for whatever reason couldn’t find one where she was. Deep down, he wanted to be the hero that swooped in and rescued the damsel, not the other way around. Not that he needed rescuing, of course, but …
“Baxter,” Lula touched his arm.
He looked into her lovely blue eyes. She was perfect, just what he wanted. But was he what she desired? “I’m all right. Are you finished?”
“Yes. You?”
He nodded and placed his hand over hers. “I’ll escort you to your room, then.”
“You must dine with us later, Miss Stout,” Cyrus said. “I’d love to get caught up on what’s been happening with your family. After all, you’re the last person I expected to see here. And as Baxter Adams’ mail-order bride, no less.”
She smiled faintly and weaved a little. Uh-oh. “Lula?” Baxter said in alarm, grabbing her arms before she fell out of her chair. “Are you feeling faint?”
“Y-yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m fine now.”
Baxter’s heart thundered in his ears. “Are you sure?”
She no
dded. “Fine, yes, perfectly fine. But I should retire for a while.”
“Of course.” He released his grip, carefully got up, grabbed one of his crutches, then went behind her chair and pulled it out as she stood.
“Thank you.” Her smile was warm. “You must be ready to go home.”
Did he hear the disappointment in her voice? “Well, I should put my foot up. Doc said it would help.”
“Then don’t let me keep you. I can make it upstairs by myself. I don’t want you to have to battle the staircase.”
“I’ll gladly see her to her room,” Cyrus offered.
Baxter swallowed hard. He didn’t want Cyrus telling her too much. But he was going to have to face things as they were. If he fell short in her eyes, then so be it. His character was what mattered, after all, not his bank account or lack thereof. “Thank you, Cyrus, that’s very kind of you.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Polly laughed. “What he really wants to do is show off his hotel.”
Lula smiled. “A tour? I’d love one.”
“Happy to hear it, my dear!” Cyrus offered her his arm. She took it and, giving Baxter a parting smile, left the dining room with the Van Cleets.
Once they were out of sight, Baxter sighed in relief. What he wouldn’t give to have his mail-order bride be the daughter of some lowly pig farmer. But if that were the case, he would never have realized how little he thought of himself. The question was, why did he?
Chapter 6
Baxter stood in front of the hotel and took a deep breath. Maybe not thinking much of himself wasn’t the right way to put it – normally he was a confident fellow. Why then did he have so many misgivings about his bride wanting to stay?
He turned on his crutches, headed down the front steps of the building and toward the livery stable and blacksmith’s. Asher wouldn’t be giving him a ride home for a bit, so he had time before they left town. Should he talk to his father about this? No, Pa might take it the wrong way and think he was embarrassed by his family, which wasn’t the case. But what was?
