by Mercy Levy
Lord Fergus smiled, “It was very blunt. A little too blunt. It may seem hard to believe, Miss Reiner,” He sighed heavily, “I am not looking for a young wife. I want a partner, a companion and a mother for my children. I cannot play these games that women play. I find them very tiring.”
Valerie looked at him as he continued, “I want someone who is kind and understanding. And who will love my children even if they are not hers. I have come across many advertisements with flowery descriptions and then I saw yours.”
Valerie studied the ground, “Did you know who I was when I first met Jane?”
Lord Fergus smiled, “No. I knew about you from your advertisement but I when I saw you then, I was not aware of your identity. It was when I asked around and found out and I saw how protective you were of Jane.”
Valerie was a little happy but a part of her drooped. He was interested in her because of her attitude towards his children. There was nothing else about her that stood out to him. Maybe this was it. She wasn’t destined to be one of those women whom men found particularly attractive.
“I also –“ Lord Fergus blushed and that caught her attention. “I find the way you laugh very endearing.My first wife, Lillian, she had a good heart but she was a quiet person. When you laugh, it feels like the entire room lights up.”
“T-Thank you.”
They were both red in the face and sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Did you like the roses?”
“They were beautiful,” Valerie replied. “I love flowers.”
“Then you shall have them every day.”
And true to his word, for the next two weeks, Valerie received a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Once or twice, Lord Fergus would stroll into her shop and hand her a rose and they would both blush.
Valerie found that being courted was fun. It made her feel special. And when Mrs. Dumphrey forced Lord Fergus to come to dinner a few weeks later, Jane and Roland came as well. And Greggory enjoyed playing the role of older, wiser guide to the young pair. The three of them were a mess after they came in from the gardens, having climbed every tree they could find and crawled through every bush they could manage.
“We were knights,” Sweet faced Roland declared, brandishing a wooden stick in the parlor. He had three leaves sticking out of his hair and you could not tell that the color of his shirt had once been white.
The children became very attached to Valerie and at times refused to leave or demanded that she come with them.
“I would like you to meet my parents, Lord Fergus.”
Valerie sat in the huge dining room at the castle she had once looked at in awe. Lord Fergus frowned, “Is it that hard to call me Henry?”
Valerie blushed, “We are not even married yet. It would be most improper.”
But she could not help but look pleased when her fiancé scowled, “I will never allow you to call me Lord Fergus once we get married.”
Valerie laughed, “I would not dare.”
“As for your parents,” Lord Fergus looked thoughtful, “You will want to invite them here? I can have a room prepared for them.”
“I was planning to ask Mrs. Cullen for a room. Do you think staying here would be better?”
Lord Fergus kissed the back of her hand, “They should always feel welcome here.”
Mr. and Mrs. Reiner were not particularly convinced of Valerie’s wedding and her mother took her aside and asked how she managed to find herself such a wealthy man. “Hundred pounds a year, Valerie. You will be rich.”
Her father seemed satisfied and Lord Fergus kept both her parents occupied whilst the wedding preparations were underway. Her mother busied herself with talking to the dress makers and the tailors whilst her father enjoyed hunting and fishing on the large estate.
Lord Fergus came upon his bride to be, one day before the wedding, making a bonnet. He watched her as she sat under the shade of the huge oak tree, with both children asleep by her feet, their heads on her lap, whilst she herself focused on her sewing. Feeling a rush of love towards her, he was glad no man had ever seen her for who she was.
He found himself dropping next to her and taking off his coat, “Shouldn’t my fiancée be busy with her wedding preparations?”
He picked up a sandwich from the picnic basket Valerie had prepared herself with such care, “I wanted to make Jane a new bonnet which matched her dress.”
She smiled vaguely at him and he watched as her nimble fingers deftly fixed a flower into the bonnet. He had never sat like this with Lillian. Relaxed, outside, having a picnic. A beautiful person, she had been very reserved as well. With Valerie, he found himself laughing, enjoying the small little things.
So, the next day, when he watched her walk down the aisle, his heart clenched in happiness. And when they were officially announced as man and wife and she called him Lord Fergus, he kissed her on the mouth, and declared, “Every time you will call me that and not by my given name, this will happen.”
His wife blushed and he smiled.
Valerie tucked her arm in his and sighed, delighted. Her future seemed so blissful that a tear ran down her cheek. God did work in mysterious ways.
THE END
Top Seller: The Lawyer’s Mail Order Bride
Craig
Craig Ferguson cut an imposing figure as he trudged down the boardwalk past the barber shop and the dry goods store, kicking up dust from the dirty wooden planks with each step. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Eva Mayweather, the middle aged lady who ran the Abilene Hotel with her husband, Karl, which earned him a nod and a coquettish “Hello”. He shook his head and grinned at her flirtation. She was harmless, and loved her husband with the heat of a thousand suns. But she made them money from getting men to drink, and she was good at it.
She reminded him to come on by after he was done his rounds, and he happily agreed. The truth was, he needed to talk to Karl anyway. The occasional fights that usually occurred when the cattle drivers came through had become far too frequent, and with the railroad builders coming in droves, the violence was bound to start escalating. He looked up and down the main street of his domain. Abilene was a cow town, and the railroaders were threatening the cattle drivers’ way livelihood. The railroad brought in a lot of new money, but was burning bridges with the cattlemen all the way across the state.
He waved a wagon past before he stepped down to the dirt road and crossed the street to the jail. Thankfully, it was a quiet day. Inside, his jail cells were empty, but for a couple of regulars sleeping off their whiskey. He set his hat on his desk and slid his firearm into a drawer. Annie would be coming by soon with food for his “prisoners” and he wasn’t about to give one of those old drunken fools a go at his piece when he fed them.
Right on time, Annie and her granddaughter, Isobel, walked in with a tray of food.
“Afternoon Sheriff.” The grandmotherly woman greeted Craig. “I heard you got two idjits in here today, is that right?” Craig laughed and gave her an “Ayuh” to the affirmative, and she set two metal plates loaded with thick bangers and mash on his otherwise tidy desk. She motioned to Isobel, who added a fourth, covered plate to the collection.
“That one is yours.” She ordered the sheriff. “Mind you eat it this time. Gran says you’re getting too thin.” Isobel glanced at her grandmother, who nodded her approval.
“The child’s right.” The older lady chided. “When you gonna get you a wife?” she demanded. “You’re not getting any younger, and even a law man needs a woman to tend to him.” Ferguson merely nodded. He was used to the tirade from the maternal owner of the café across the street. His only act of rebellion was to doggedly ignore the attempts she made at introducing him to women. She’d be pleased as punch when she finally found out he’d sent away to Boston area for a young woman he’d written to and found to his liking. The most recent letter lay unopened in his pocket, waiting for his overeager matchmaker to depart.
“Well, I thank you ladies kindly for feeding these fine guests
of my establishment, though they don’t deserve cooking of this caliber.” Craig praised Annie and her young protégé, who beamed from the compliment.
“I helped grandma make the mashed potatoes!” Isobel announced, proudly drawing her eight-year-old frame to his fullest height.
“I’ll be sure to let you know how good they were after I eat them.” Craig replied with a smile. Annie patted her youngest granddaughter’s curly blonde head and winked at the sheriff. She ushered Isobel out the door to the jail, picking up a pile of used tin plates on their way out.
Craig smiled at their retreating backs. He picked up the food laden plates and walked back to the jail cells, where the Quincy twins sat in separate cells. Bud Quincy the older of the twins, whittled away at a piece of wood with his tiny pocket knife, while, Daniel (Junior to his friends), snored away on his cot.
“Wake up, Junior!” Craig called out to Daniel as he banged on the bars loudly. “Soup’s on. Don’t make me tell Annie you slept through her meatloaf pie!” He barked as the drunk jumped at the noise and nearly fell off the cot. He collected his plate and a mug and sat down on the floor of the cell to eat, muttering that the meal needed whiskey, not water, to wash it down.
Bud Quincy was already standing, waiting patiently for his meal. He gave Craig a big grin for waking up his younger brother that way, and sat silently to eat. Craig loped back to his wooden desk and uncovered his food. Next to the generous helpings of meat and potatoes was a second, smaller plate, almost completely covered by a huge slice of rhubarb pie. Craig called out to the men in his cells, boasting about the delicious pie, while he used his hat to waft the aroma toward them.
“You boys should keep your drunk fights out on your ranch.” He chided around a mouthful of warm pie. “Just think. If you two had kept the rest of us out of your pissing contest, you’d be sitting in Annie’s café eating this pie with fresh milk to wash it down, not sitting in there trying to turn water into whiskey!” He drawled. Bud chuckled in response, and Junior stopped his whining.
Craig looked at the time. He figured he’d keep them until night fell, then send them straight home, with no stop at the bar. The brothers were good men, but they liked nothing more than pulling out their fists over any topic imaginable. Last night, the fight had erupted over one too many shots of rot gut and a game of blackjack gone sour.
Still, it had been a blessing in disguise. The fight distracted the cattle men who were working up a sweat over some railroad surveyors who were passing through as they plotted the route the rail would take across Kansas. Abilene was going to be a major stop for the railroad, and the locals were divided in loyalty, between the business owners who supported the railroad, and the cattle drivers who despised the rail workers for taking away their livelihood.
Craig finished his meal and rinsed the dishes in the tub of wash water and started a new pile by the door for Annie or one of her many grandchildren to pick up later. He sat with his feet on the desk, stuck a toothpick in his teeth and finally pulled out the letter. He heard loud squeaking from the cots in the cells.
“Hey Boss,” Junior called out to him. “That another letter from your lady-friend?” he inquired. Craig snorted. The brothers had been in jail so much lately, they’d taken to asking about his correspondence with his pen pal, Miss. Candace Shepherd. They’d started writing weeks ago, and then the letters had stopped coming. Craig had been disappointed, then concerned, as the days rolled by, but this letter had some thickness to it, and he hoped that meant it was full of explanations. He sucked on his chewing stick and deftly sliced the envelope open. As the twins waited quietly for him to finish and relay the news, he began to read.
“My Dearest Mr. Ferguson,
I apologize most humbly for the time it has taken for me to return your last correspondence. I must admit that this has been a trying time, indeed, for my brothers and myself, as we have faced the loss of my employment at the factory and have had to move into the meanest of apartments that you could ever imagine. I can only hope that this missive finds you well, and that you haven’t forgotten me in my absence. I have been able to find temporary employ in a dress shop, and my brothers have taken on the work of men much older than they, unloading goods on the docks. They are so young I fear for their safety, but with Father gone, they have stepped up to fill his shoes admirably…”
Craig sat upright in his seat and read the entire letter twice. Candace repeatedly pled for his patience with her and assured him that despite their lack of means, they were all well and healthy. He scanned through the parts of the epistle that only concerned the two young brothers, Sill a 14-year-old, and Darren, who was 16. His concern grew when he reached the end of the letter and started paying closer attention again as she offered him a way out of the suggested arrangement of marriage.
“Please understand, I truly have the greatest respect and admiration for you, and long to be of assistance to you on your ranch. I had planned on the three of us being a boon to you and making your life simpler with our arrival, instead of more difficult. However, it pains me to admit that we do not have the funds to travel or even to stay where we are, and will have to find an alternative that may take us beyond your desire to continue our acquaintance. If this is the case, please know that I understand and bear you no ill will.
Respectfully and Fondly Yours,
Miss Candace Shepherd, Boston Mass.”
Craig reread the letter again more carefully, looking for additional clues to the predicament Candace was in, or how she’d got there. Finding nothing and dissatisfied, he picked up his hat and headed over to the Abilene hotel to talk to Karl. He and Candace had been writing for a couple of months now. If she was in trouble, it was time to send for her and her brothers. Craig didn’t figure it would be too hard to care for the boys, they were almost grown themselves. But Candace was young, and as well-spoken and obviously hardworking as she was, it stuck in his craw a little that he was bringing a city-bred innocent out to the sometimes uncivilized west.
He stepped out of the jail to the fading light of dusk and immediately stiffened. The hairs on his neck stood at attention and his right hand slid toward his gun. He looked around him, and two men stepped out of the shadows of the nearby stable.
“Howdy, Sheriff.” A tall, thin man greeted him. Craig looked him over, from his boots, to the poncho he wore slung over his shoulder, freeing up his six-shooter. The thin man’s companion was his physical opposite, stumpy and thick. His shotgun was perched against his shoulder, and when he spit, tobacco juice clung to his stringy red beard.
The men were strangers to Craig, and from their clothes and demeanor, the sheriff guessed they were railroad men. Workers, not surveyors, the rail man had been stuck in Abilene for days without work, as they waited for instructions to proceed. Left with too much time on their hands, some of the men had gotten unruly, and the already angry cattle drivers had been more than happy to escalate the name calling to the throwing of punches.
“How can I help you two gentlemen?” Craig inquired, his hand still resting on the butt of his Colt Dragoon. The tall thin man rubbed the dark stubble on his chin and glanced at his stocky friend.
“Well, see here.” The shorter, red-faced man spoke up. “You’ve got two prisoners in there who are friends of ours.” He gestured to his mate, who nodded sagely. “We was just wonderin’ how long they was gonna be locked up like that. It would be mighty nice to finish that drink we started last night.” He wheedled.
Craig recognized the men from the hotel, but seriously doubted they were friends of the two cattlemen he had locked up in his jail. He looked down the street. His deputy, Mark Rainfeld, had noticed something was up and was heading toward them on the boardwalk.
“Evening Sheriff,” Craig heard the voice of Karl Mayweather behind him. “Eva told me you’d be heading over to see me, I thought I’d just meet you halfway.” The tall thin man looked uneasy now that the numbers no longer favored him. The stocky redhead dropped the barrel of the shotgun so
it pointed at the ground.
“Meeting you halfway.” The taller man repeated Karl’s words, nodding. “That’s exactly what my mate and me was doing for our friends.” He paused and scratched his head. “Looks like they might not be available for that drink tonight though, right Sheriff?” He asked.
“Looks like they won’t be.” Craig agreed coolly. The two railroad workers tipped their hats to the townies and walked away down the road, back toward their camp. Deputy Rainfeld scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his hat.
“I’m thinking we should keep the twins for another night, just to be on the safe side, Craig.” He suggested. The sheriff nodded his agreement and kept watching the men head out of town on foot, giving the taller of the two a wave when he looked back over his shoulder.
“Karl, Mark, I’m of the opinion that things are going to get more sore, before they get better.” Craig drawled. “How many guns you think you got in the bar any given night?” He asked Karl. Karl shook his head.
“Too many not to have trouble, Sheriff.” He replied. “But me and the Mrs. We hold our own.” The savvy hotel owner had hired Pinkertons to help keep the peace. Craig didn’t always agree with hiring more guns to stop guns, but they had stepped in on more than one occasion before things got out of hand, so as long as they stayed out of his way, he stayed out of theirs.
“Why don’t you go get a drink in you, Sheriff, and I’ll watch the twins for a bit.” Mark offered. “The missus is away visiting her mother right now, so I’ve got nothing else pressing.” Craig slapped Mark on the back and nodded his thanks, and he and Karl walked back to the Abilene, discussing the more private matter Craig had wanted to speak with him about.
After he gave Karl the over view of the letter, Karl thought for a long while. He stepped behind the bar and poured the sheriff a stiff drink, then gestured him into the back kitchen, where Eva and a young assistant washed and dried glasses for the bar. When they saw the men, the ladies took a break and let them have the kitchen to themselves.
