by Kit Morgan
Tommy glanced quickly to the mercantile. Harvey Brown, a middle aged farmer came strutting out of the building and into the street like a preening peacock. The line moved up a space or two.
“What the devil is going on?” Colin whispered under his breath. “Harvey!” He called out. “Who’s in there, the bloody President?”
Harvey hurried over, his short little legs moving faster than Colin thought possible. “Might as well be the Queen of England!” He quickly glanced back to the mercantile, his cheeks red and flushed.
With what, Colin didn’t want to know. “Seems everyone is making a terrible fuss over the Dunnigans house guest. She is a house guest, isn’t she?”
Harvey looked at him. “Oh, yes! Yes, yes! Come to stay in fact! Gonna be working with Wilfred and Irene! This sure changes things!”
“What things?” Colin snapped. Of course he knew. Business was obviously going to pick up for the Dunnigan Mercantile. If Colin’s guess was right, the men would try to pay off their bills to stay in good standing with Mrs. Dunnigan so they could call on the newly arrived Miss Dunnigan.
“I best get back to my farm!” Harvey pushed out as he wiped his sweaty face and balding head with a handkerchief. “I need to make a list of things I’m sure I’ll need to pick up tomorrow!”
And with that he was off. Colin and Sadie watched him trot to his wagon parked in front of the Triple C’s. They glanced at each other, mouths agape, then to the long line of men waiting to get into the mercantile. One would think they really were in line to gain an audience with the Queen.
“Oh yoo hoo!”
Colin and Sadie turned at the sound. Mrs. Mulligan quickly made her way down the street with Mrs. Fig. “Sadie!” she began out of breath. “Have you heard the news?”
“What news?” Sadie asked. For Heaven’s sake, no one made this much of a fuss when she first came to Clear Creek.
“We’re starting a sewing circle! We have another woman in town!”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Fig chimed in. “And when the new preacher gets here and church services start we can form a choir!”
Colin looked from one excited face to the other, including Sadie’s. It amazed him how one woman added to their ranks could make such a difference. “A sewing circle?” He quipped. “What’s so exciting about that?”
“Don’t you have sewing circles where you come from?” Mrs. Mulligan asked.
“None that I belonged to,” he drawled.
Mrs. Mulligan giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh you silly dear! You must know a sewing circle is where women get together and visit.”
“Ohhhh,” he began. “Rather like afternoon tea?”
“Have you invited Miss Dunnigan to join yet?” Sadie asked.
“Didn’t have to. It was Irene’s idea. She asked us!” Mrs. Fig exclaimed. “You must come meet her! She’s delightful. She’s come all the way from Boston!”
“Boston?” Colin practically squeaked. “What the devil is she doing way out here?”
“Oh it’s a sad story,” Mrs. Mulligan bowed and shook her head as she spoke. “Her mother passed some years ago and she just recently lost her father. The poor dear has no where else to go.”
“Wilfred and Irene are her only living relatives.” Mrs. Fig added with a curt nod of her head.
“Poor girl.” Colin commented as he took in the line of eager men. He quickly turned to Sadie. “Best make introductions then. If we wait to go through this line I’ll never get back in time to help Harrison and Duncan move some of the stock.”
“But we really shouldn’t cut in front of all these people.” Sadie told him.
“I’m sure Mrs. Dunnigan won’t mind. In fact, I’m positive she’ll be happy to wait on us.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we have something the others don’t.”
“What’s that?”
Colin gave her a wide grin. “Cash.”
Colin held his arm out to her. Sadie stifled a chuckle and took it. With Mrs. Mulligan and Mrs. Fig leading the way, the four of them crossed the street and went straight to the door of the mercantile.
The men at the start of the line grumbled at them. Wilfred sat in a chair near the door and whittled on a piece of wood. “Morning Mrs. Cooke, Colin. You might have to wait awhile.” He said without looking up from his whittling. “Irene and my niece are awful busy in there and can’t handle more than three or four customers at a time.”
“Oh we’re not here to shop.” Colin began. “Mrs. Mulligan and Mrs. Fig want to introduce Sadie to your niece and inform Mrs. Dunnigan of Sadie’s intentions to join her sewing circle.”
Wilfred looked up. “I can pass that along.”
Sadie noticed Colin’s jaw tighten. “Actually, I do need a few things and we must get back to the ranch. If I give you my money and scribbled down a list, would you mind filling my order?”
“Can’t. I’m out here to make sure these fellas don’t get any ideas...” he waved his knife at the line of men. “... About all going in at the same time. Too much work for the women to try to keep up.”
“I understand.” Sadie answered and turned to leave.
“But if’n you want to go in real quick like, Irene can get you what you need and introduce you to Belle. I’m sure she’d love to know there’s another gal in these parts her age.”
Sadie beamed. “Why thank you, Mr. Dunnigan. That’s very kind of you.” She detached herself from Colin and headed for the door.
Colin couldn’t believe his luck! He stayed on her heels and was about to follow her in when Wilfred grabbed him by the belt of his trousers. “Not you, Colin.”
“But I need to ... to...”
“Your sister-in-law can get whatever it is you need.” Wilfred said as he pulled him away from the door. Several men in the crowed laughed.
“That’s showing him, Wilfred!” One man yelled from the middle of the line.
“Yeah, no fair! Wait your turn like every one else!” Another cried.
“What about us?” Mrs. Mulligan practically huffed.
“You ladies can go in.” Wilfred said and waved them inside.
They smiled their thanks and did so. The men in line watched them with envy.
Colin, on the other hand, closed his eyes and stifled a groaned.
“Best get to the back of the line, Colin!” Someone called. More men laughed.
Colin fought to keep his anger at bay. The sight of all of them waiting to see his angel riled him something fierce. After all, he was the first one to set eyes on the girl so didn’t that give him first rights so to speak? And he didn’t like the idea of every unmarried man within ten miles panting like a dog after her. It made his skin crawl with anger. It shouldn’t, but it did. While in prison, if you wanted something, you had to take it fast or it was gone. Often times, he had to fight for it. To the victor went the spoils because for the guards it was sport to watch the prisoners fight over a scrap of food or dirty piece of candy. But a woman ... this was something else entirely. Colin had to sternly remind himself he was no longer in prison fighting over a piece of dirt-covered candy. Something he witnessed men almost kill each other for. Not only that, but he couldn’t fight for Miss Dunnigan with his fists, though he surely would if it came to that. No, to win her he was going to have to give the matter some thought.
He leaned against the doorframe. “I’ll just wait here for Sadie.”
Wilfred took up his whittling. “Suit yourself.”
Colin let go a long sigh. Between Wilfred guarding the door and Mrs. Dunnigan guarding his angel from the inside, she might as well be in some impenetrable fortress and locked in the highest tower. How was he going to get past Mrs. Dunnigan, not to mention Wilfred, and spend any time with her? Let alone be introduced. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.
The men in the street were lined up to meet Miss Dunnigan under the guise of needing something from the mercantile. Like knights lined up to try and win the hand of the fair maiden. And Colin was su
re they’d try all the usual things. Flowers, candy, trinkets. Rather ironic as most of the tokens they might present to Miss Dunnigan would have to be purchased from the mercantile, perhaps from Miss Dunnigan herself! But Colin knew something they didn’t. He, after all, was an Englishman. And all Englishmen knew that the only way to win the hand of a fair maiden was not to give mere tokens of affection and lay them at her feet. No, the best way to win a fair maiden was to slay a dragon.
Colin smiled at the thought.
Four
“And this is Mrs. Sadie Cooke. She hasn’t been here long either, a little over four months I’d say, and has the most beautiful new house south of town. Why, she would just love to join the sewing circle!” Mrs. Fig beamed as she talked.
Between Mrs. Fig and Mrs. Mulligan neither Belle nor Sadie had been able to get a word in edgewise. Belle listened and nodded to the two women as she waited for an opening. Finally, they took a breath at the same time.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she quickly pushed out. “How do you like living in Clear Creek?”
Sadie smiled, probably as relieved as Belle was. “The town grows on you. And I do like the people.” She looked directly at Aunt Irene as she spoke her last words, a warm smile on her face. It got aunt Irene’s attention. She stared at Sadie Cooke a brief moment, her usual iron fisted demeanor relaxing ever so slightly. Belle could see it in her eyes. So, auntie really did have a reputation for being a tough old battle-ax. Uncle Wilfred told her several stories since her arrival of Aunt Irene doing battle with the good people of Clear Creek. Maybe she wasn’t expecting a smile meant for her. It did, however, confirm Belle’s suspicions about her aunt.
Aunt Irene definitely needed ... an outlet.
The sewing circle had been Belle’s idea, and it took her a couple of days to talk her aunt into it. But she had to do something. Otherwise Belle was going to have to find a way to live with her aunt’s constant sour expression, and she didn’t think she could stand it for more than a few months before she cracked. Belle felt she needed the sewing circle for survival purposes.
“Where should we have our first gathering?” Mrs. Fig suddenly blurted.
Belle pulled herself away from her aunt’s softened expression. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Oh, might we have it at your home, Mrs. Cooke? Mrs. Mulligan pleaded. “Unless it’s too early for you to entertain, but I personally admit, I would love to see what you’ve done with the place since the barn raising!”
“Oh it’s a lovely home,” Mrs. Fig told Belle. “Biggest house in these parts and so elegant!”
“I’ll check with my husband, but I don’t see why not,” Sadie said. “In fact, I think it's a lovely idea.”
Mrs. Dunnigan shoved a bag of nails at a starry eyed Willie, the stagecoach driver. “That’ll be twenty five cents!” She turned to Belle. “Make sure you pick a time when Wilfred can mind the store on his own.”
“Yes, auntie. Late afternoon would work best I think, after lunch? For those ladies that are married, their men will have returned to their work by then.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Sadie said. “And I would love to bake something for us. We could have tea. Harrison just received a batch he special ordered from Oregon City.”
Mrs. Fig clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be lovely! Our first sewing circle!”
The women continued to make plans as Willie and the other men looked on. Mrs. Dunnigan watched as they slowly circled around barrels, tables of merchandise and various other items to worm their way closer to Belle.
She turned and grabbed a hatchet that hung from two nails pounded into the wall. She banged the butt end on the counter. Everyone jumped at the sound. Belle let loose a little yelp of surprise.
“You men have been here long enough! Time to pay and leave!” Aunt Irene bellowed.
The men stood frozen in place. It took one more bang on the counter to get them moving and scramble to the counter to have their purchases added to their tabs.
“You’ll have to pay before I sell you anything else! Don’t come back here until you’re ready to pony up!”
Belle closed her eyes and sighed to herself. “Oh auntie...”
Her aunt quickly finished her work, stuffed the receipts into a cigar box and escorted the men to the door with a few waves of her hatchet. They quickly hightailed it to stay out of range and ran from the building.
Belle was still lamenting over her aunt’s behavior when she saw him. He stood in the doorway, his mouth curved up in a slight smile. His hazel eyes bright, almost mischievous. He boldly crossed the threshold, walked right up to the little group of women, and tipped his hat.
“Ladies,” he began then turned to Sadie. “Is there anything I may assist you with?”
Belle found it hard to tear her gaze away. That is until Aunt Irene raised her hatchet and began to wave it about in the air.
“Colin Cooke! Get out of this store!” She screeched at him. For emphasis she swung the hatchet toward the nearest display table. The sight made several new men entering the store, turn tail and run back out. Especially when the blade struck the table’s surface and stuck.
Belle put her face in her hands as her aunt tried to pull the hatchet free. She huffed and puffed as she yanked at it. But it wouldn’t budge.
“Allow me,” Colin said. The sound of his voice brought Belle’s face out of her hands. He approached her aunt, giving the woman a wide berth, and bowed. He then reached over, and pulled the hatchet from the display table with ease.
Aunt Irene’s face turned an incredible shade of red. She sucked air through her nose, her lips pressed so tightly together they turned white, and glared at him.
“I’ll just put this up where it belongs, shall I?” He drawled, then took the hatchet behind the counter and hung it back on the wall.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Colin,” Sadie quickly interjected. “I need to get a few things not to mention have you help me carry them to the wagon.”
“Happy to be of assistance,” he crooned as he approached.
His eyes locked with Belle’s. She sucked in a breath, unable to help herself. By Heaven, he was handsome. She hadn’t had time to study him during their brief encounter the day of her arrival. She was too flustered from her travels. But now, rested and alert, she noted he stood in stark contrast to the other men lined up outside the mercantile over the last two days.
He was clean-shaven and emitted an exotic scent. Perhaps it was some sort of soap imported from England. He didn’t smell like the other men she’d met thus far. (Thank Heaven for that!) It was masculine, clean, and with a hint of spice she could not identify. The scent made her want to get closer to him. She blushed at the thought and involuntarily took a step back.
He raised a single eyebrow at the action and smiled. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”
Sadie started. She’d been watching the two, a slight smile on her face. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Colin, this is Miss Isabelle Dunnigan. She’s Mr. and Mrs. Dunnigan’s niece from Boston.”
“Do tell?” His words poured out like honey as a wide smile formed on his face.
Belle was finding it hard to breathe and wished she could loosen her corset. She guessed she was the only woman in town, or within a hundred miles for that matter, that wore one. She managed a smile but nothing close to intelligent speech. She wanted to speak his name, anything. It was such a handsome, strong name. Colin.
Then he did something that no doubt would be told by the next four generations of townsfolk. He bent at the waist, took one of her hands in his and said, “I am Colin Bartholomew Cooke. And I am at your service.”
OK, so perhaps that wouldn’t be told by the next four generations of townsfolk. But what happened next surely would. He bent even further, raised her hand to his lips, and ever so gently, kissed it.
Belle thought she might faint. But not from his kiss, though she might consider fainting from that. No, it was
from the most blood-curdling yell anyone had ever heard. And it came from Aunt Irene. Belle had been so mesmerized by Colin Cooke she’d forgotten all about her.
“What’s the meaning of this? Get! Out!” She screamed at him.
Uncle Wilfred came running through the door. “What in tarnation is going on in here?”
Aunt Irene pointed an accusing finger at Colin, who was now only slightly bent over Belle’s hand. A hand still solidly held in his.
“Get out, you no good dirty Cooke! You boys ought to all be shot!”
“Mrs. Dunnigan!” Sadie exclaimed. “He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Hasn’t done anything wrong? He kissed her!”
“Her hand!” Sadie added.
“Oh dear, oh dear!” Mrs. Fig moaned. “What a disaster!”
“Kissing a woman’s hand is a disaster?” Colin asked innocently. “Where I come from it’s how one treats a lady.”
“I don’t care if it’s how you treat the Queen! You’ll not be touching my niece!” Aunt Irene spat.
Belle finally found her ability to talk. “Auntie! You ought to be ashamed! The only man to walk through that door and treat me like a lady and you have to tongue lash him for it!”
“He kissed her hand?” Uncle Wilfred commented, amused.
“It’s no laughing matter! Get this trash out of my store!”
“Auntie!” Belle couldn’t believe the woman’s behavior. She’d heard stories from her father, laughed at the ones Uncle Wilfred had shared over the past few days, but nothing prepared her for this. “I’ve made a terrible mistake coming here,” she whispered to herself.
Colin must have heard her. Her hand still in his, he pulled her toward him and tenderly looked into her eyes. “Will you be all right?” He asked gently.
She stared at him, words escaping her again. The nearness of him was overwhelming. She could feel the heat of his body wrap itself around her followed by an unexplainable sense of peace that covered her like a blanket. And then she knew. Knew she would always be safe with this man.
From Aunt Irene, not so much.
