Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

by Lauri Robinson

  She crossed her arms over her chest and pointedly turned away.

  The worst of the screeching subsided as the engine shuddered, and then slowed to a turtle’s crawl.

  Her three companions created a fair wall with their noses pressed to the glass. Maggie could only see bits and pieces of the town moving by through the spaces between the three. She couldn’t understand why they were excited about a new beginning and gaining a husband along with it. She certainly wasn’t. That’s all her life had been for as long as she could remember—always a new city, a new town, a new horizon. A seed didn’t have time to flower, nor dust to settle, the way her family lived. And she sure didn’t plan to get yoked to a man. A man would only complicate things between her and her sister. He might even separate them.

  But while she was here, she would like to see a real cowboy. One with boots and a Stetson. Or one of those ten-gallon hats that the other girls had been giggling about. Did cowboys always wear spurs? These were things a girl should know.

  She stored the deck of cards in her satchel. It wouldn’t do to lose them. She might have need of a little spending money or even a little “get out of town” money.

  She stepped behind Anna to peer over her shoulder. From this position all she saw was a small sea of dusty and dirty cowboy hats and bowlers. A few men waved faded flags—bleached by the sun and whipped by the prairie wind.

  She swallowed. Men. All men. At least thirty of them. She rose to her tiptoes in order to see better.

  Some were really young, but most looked middling to old. A few appeared weathered. One thing was obvious—no two of the men staring back from the station platform were the same. They were all shapes and sizes. And whether they wore big grins or not as they vied for the front row, they all looked curious to see who would be stepping off the train. Some, she noticed uncomfortably, appeared eager—a bit too eager.

  With that thought she shrank back and looked in the seat behind her for her sister. Where had she disappeared to so fast? This bride contract had been her idea from the start. She should be here.

  “Oh! I see the one I want!” Anna squealed, her voice blending with the last screech of the brakes.

  The train shuddered horrendously to a complete stop. With it, a band started up. A band? A trumpet played “Oh! Susanna” and was joined by the beat of a drum and the trill of a fife.

  Panic seized Maggie. She wasn’t ready for this! “I have to find Mary,” she croaked out. Swaying slightly, she headed toward the back end of the railcar. She wanted to be with her sister when she faced the men gathered outside—not with these women she’d known only a handful of days.

  The door before her swung open.

  “Well now, Miss McCary,” the conductor said, raising his bushy brows. “A bit anxious I’d say.”

  She glared at him. He was in league with the sheriff back in Bridgeport—that scoundrel.

  Behind him, a man from the platform climbed the steps, pausing when he arrived at the top as if the exertion winded him. He was dressed in his Sunday best, right down to the gold watch fob and chain dangling from his black satin vest. The suit appeared a bit small at the neck—and other places. Probably cutting off his breath judging by the redness of his face. He peered first at her and then at the other women behind her as he blotted a trace of sweat on his forehead.

  “Welcome to Oak Grove, ladies. I’m Mayor Melbourne.” He paused, looking over the four of them. The welcoming mien dissolved and he turned to the conductor. “Where are the rest?”

  The man fumbled in his pocket, withdrew a sealed envelope and handed it to the mayor.

  Mayor Melbourne pressed his lips together. He slipped his wire glasses from his vest pocket and settled them on the bridge of his nose, bending the wires over his ears. Then he broke the wax seal on the envelope and quickly read the contents. If possible his face reddened further.

  “Not coming!” he sputtered. “Not coming! I asked for twelve and all that answered the call are these four?”

  “Actually, Mayor, that would be five,” Rebecca said from over Maggie’s left shoulder. “Mary McCary is also with us...somewhere.”

  “Five, you say? The committee sent enough money for twelve. My brother has some answering to do.” He read the letter again, the perturbed look on his face slowly settling into resignation as he folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “Very well. Ladies? Welcome. Please come meet your town.”

  She sensed Anna, Sadie and Rebecca gathering in force behind her. “What about our things?” she asked quickly, hoping to stall a few minutes longer.

  “Plenty of men here to see to them,” the mayor said. “Please follow me. As you can see, they are anxious to have a look at...I mean...meet you.”

  Behind her, the others pressed forward, prodding her out the door and onto the steps. A blast of warm Kansas wind swirled around her and picked up her skirt.

  “Whoo-ee!” a man in front called out. “Got a looker right off!”

  Her cheeks heated as she struggled to subdue the billowing purple cotton, and then she focused on the gawker, raising her chin defiantly and fixing him with a bold glare. She would make sure never to find herself alone with him.

  He grinned. “Got spirit too! She’s mine. Might as well just check her off your list, men. She’s mine! Whoo-ee!”

  “Not unless you take a bath and wash off that cow smell, Rader,” someone yelled back. A round of chuckles from a few of the others followed.

  Behind her, Sadie, Rebecca and Anna must have crowded into view for a cheer went up from the men. “Hip hip hooray!” Several even threw their hats into the air and the small band played louder at a furious pace.

  Four strong-looking men stepped forward, and with a great deal more enthusiasm than the situation called for, took hold of her upper arms and whisked her—her body floating through the air—down the last two steps to the platform.

  She wasn’t ready for this! Where in heaven’s name was Mary?

  * * *

  The train whistle blew, announcing the arrival of the Kansas Pacific just as Jackson Miller pounded the last nail into Angus O’Leary’s coffin.

  Fit for a king. O’Leary should be satisfied now. It was the second box the old coot had ordered for himself.

  Jackson smoothed his hand over the edges of the box, making sure there were no rough spots. He tested the seams for sturdiness. Building this coffin had been a welcome change—if one could say that about a coffin. The wood transported to Oak Grove was usually pine for constructing buildings, not something as elegant or hard as this cherrywood.

  The sounds of a drum and bugle started up from the direction of the train station. Across the street, the door to the Austin Hotel and Eatery slammed open with a bang and Austin’s two youngsters flew out, making a beeline to the station. Rollie Austin rushed after his sons, smoothing down his thick beard, and then swiping the few longer strands of hair he possessed on his head over his scalp before plopping on his hat. Between caring for those rambunctious boys and running his establishment it seemed that every day he grew older and gruffer. Jackson wished him well at catching a new wife.

  He woke that morning intent on staying clear of the hoopla of the arriving bride train. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with the mayor’s scheme. He’d learned his lesson the hard way not to put any trust in a woman. Marrying wasn’t in his future. His work was all that mattered. Since the women would be staying at the hotel, that meant leaving the work on the hotel’s entrance and staircase for another day. And with the church nearly finished, his promise to his brother would be fulfilled. Then he’d take stock of what he would do next.

  Gunshot sounded. Twice.

  He opened the door to his shop and stepped out on the boardwalk. Whooping and hollering filtered back to him along with the band taking up a spare version of “Oh! Susanna.” The shots must ha
ve been men just blowing off steam. He listened to the hoopla for a moment, remembering the last time he’d been excited about anything—the day before Christine had called off their engagement and run off with his best friend. That had soured him on getting worked up about anything anymore. A man couldn’t trust the feeling.

  The shouting and cheering grew louder, coming his way.

  The partiers appeared, rounding the corner at the livery and heading down the main street, making so much noise that the horses tied in front of the saloon whinnied nervously and shied away from the boisterous group. Probably not used to the skirts. Men surrounded each woman—four or five to each gal. Only four women? Where were the rest?

  Austin and the mayor led the way flanking the tallest—a pretty blonde. She walked with a careful air and grace, her chin high, with two of her fingers holding up the hem of her blue dress to keep it from the road as though she were afraid to get any part of herself dirty. In her other hand, she gripped an open parasol. He imagined that was for show at the moment. Her large hat, with the long white feather plume fluttering in the breeze, made the rest of her look small.

  Next came a gal with red hair, her bun halfway off her head along with her small felt bonnet as if she’d been hugged too vigorously by one of the cowpokes. Even though the day had warmed up, she clutched the edges of her coat together at her throat as if deathly cold. Beside her, Danny Sanders talked nonstop—likely already trying to interest her in a tour of his saloon. Didn’t look like she was interested. Her eyes were wide and focused—a bit desperately—on the doors of the hotel.

  A few steps behind her, a brown-haired gal walked comfortably along swinging her handbag and talking with the four—make that five—cowboys that surrounded her and laughing along with them. She wore a pretty yellow travel dress and a large-brimmed straw hat with a ribbon that fluttered down her back. If he was a betting man, he’d bet that she or the blonde would be the first with a ring on their finger.

  The last woman, bringing up the rear, was a dark-haired slip of a girl who hadn’t even bothered to pin up her hair. Or if she had, it had come loose completely and fell helter-skelter, wavy and black as a waterfall at night, down to her waist. A plum-colored dress accentuated her pale skin and the finely etched brows that at the moment were scrunched up as she listened to the oldest Austin boy. It was amusing the way all the men who had doled out money to the Oak Grove Betterment Committee for a chance at a bride hovered around her, and yet it was ten-year-old Kade who had maneuvered his way in for the first word.

  An overanxious cowboy slipped his hands under the boy’s armpits and swung him out of the way, stepping in to sidle up next to the woman. She snapped out a word that left the man frozen with the boy dangling a foot off the ground. He set Kade right back next to her, pulled his hat down to his ears and strode ahead to the brown-haired gal. Looked like that last one could take care of herself despite her size.

  A flatbed wagon carrying several large carpetbags and three trunks followed the entourage.

  At the hotel, the men grabbed the luggage and would have accompanied the women right on inside, but for Sheriff Baniff’s sizable form barricading the way. With a tip of his hat, he allowed the women to pass, and then moved back to block the doorway.

  “Give the ladies a chance to settle in and freshen up, men. They’ve had a long trip. Drop off those trunks in their rooms and hightail it right back down the stairs without dallying. Tomorrow’s shindig starts at four. Come back then.”

  A collective groan went up along with a few choice words from the gathered men. Then someone imitated the sound of a rooster.

  Jackson leaned against his doorpost and watched the small crowd disperse. Maybe, like the mayor said, the town could use the softening influence of the women. More men had turned out than he expected. Although he wasn’t interested in a bride, it might be amusing to see who ended up with the women after all.

  Poor saps—they didn’t know what they were in for.

  Chapter Two

  Maggie stared out the open window for the umpteenth time. Still no sign of Mary. The sun rested on the horizon and already the brown of the town was changing to gray shadows. She hoped her sister was all right.

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder—it was finally dry after her long soak in the tub—and then she stretched. Oh, my, but she felt gloriously clean for the first time in weeks. The wet washcloth and pan she had used since Bridgeport did little more than move the dirt from one part of her body to another. Her first request of Mr. Austin had been to have a bath—with soap! If only Mary could have enjoyed one too. It would have gone far to improving her sister’s attitude and making Maggie’s point that they both relax until the tonic was ready.

  She knelt at her trunk and searched through her things, looking for the bottles of tonic tucked within her clothing. With all the jostling and jarring from the train station to this room, she wanted to make sure they hadn’t broken. They were her insurance, her way out.

  She unearthed two bottles, finding them intact. A folded piece of paper had been wrapped around the neck of the third bottle. She didn’t remember doing that. Unwrapping it, she stared at familiar feminine handwriting.

  I tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen. I can’t stay. Gonna find a job. Will let you know where I am once I get settled.

  M. M.

  Mary had left her? She had to face the town on her own? Her chest tightened. When she got hold of her sister she would... She would...

  Tears burned in her eyes. Mary should be with her. They’d never been separated—not in all their nineteen years. She blew out a breath, refusing to let even one teardrop fall. It was anger she felt. Anger and perhaps a sliver of remorse. Now things were all a mess.

  “So that’s what happened,” Rebecca said, peering over Maggie’s shoulder.

  Quickly Maggie folded the note and tucked it away. “I thought you were napping.”

  “Just dozing.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep things to yourself concerning this note.”

  Rebecca picked through the pile of clothes that she had deposited on her bed, talking as she looked for something to wear for supper. “Why would I tell anyone? One less McCary means I have a larger selection between the men.”

  Maggie frowned. Rebecca always looked to her own advantage. Why she had insisted Maggie share a room with her was a mystery. Anna would have been much more fun. Maggie shoved the note back into her trunk and closed the lid.

  “Your sister is a coward.”

  Maggie gasped. “What did you say?”

  Rebecca didn’t repeat herself, instead attending to her bustle. She adjusted it at her waist and tied it in place.

  Maggie really, really wanted to punch her. It was tempting. “She is not! She’s the bravest person I know!”

  “That doesn’t sound brave.” Rebecca pointed to the trunk, indicating the note. “It sounds foolish.” She turned and slipped the dress—a pink gingham frock—over her head. She turned her back to Maggie, then peered over her shoulder and waited for Maggie to help with the buttons.

  Is that why she had chosen Maggie to share her room? She expected Maggie to be her private maid? Rebecca Simpson was from a different world—a world that Maggie had only glimpsed through beveled, leaded windows. A world where she had always been warm and fed and wanted for nothing—right up until four months ago when her life had abruptly changed.

  Grudgingly, Maggie walked over and helped her finish dressing. “You don’t have a sister, so I’ll have to allow for your ignorance.”

  Rebecca sucked in her breath.

  Good. Let her suck on a lemon. Maggie wasn’t going to let her malign her sister. “Family sticks together. No matter what.”

  “But she didn’t. She left.”

  “It’s only temporary.” She met Rebecca’s gaze with as much br
avado as she could muster.

  Maggie turned away and pulled some clean clothes from her trunk. She’d wear her favorite dress tonight—a sky-blue summer dress trimmed in white eyelet. As the last gift from her father, she always felt her father’s love protecting her when she wore it.

  “I saw Mayor Melbourne take you aside,” Rebecca said. “Did he ask you about Mary?”

  Maggie dressed as she answered. “He has men searching for her, but if Mary doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.” She rolled her thick hair back high up on her head, stabbing the mess rather savagely with her whalebone stick. She added another to secure the knot completely.

  “You McCarys,” Rebecca said with a measure of disdain in her voice. She checked her appearance in the standing mirror, smoothing her dress and turning first this way and then that. Satisfied, she slipped her white lace shawl over her shoulders and faced Maggie. “It’s nearly seven o’clock and I’m starving. Are you ready?”

  And just like that she’d put the incident behind her. Maggie bit her tongue to keep from saying anything more. Rebecca only cared for herself. For now, Maggie would try to get along with Miss Perfect. It was only for a few weeks. With the money from the tonic, she and Mary could take the train on to Denver. After seeing the small, dusty town, Maggie was sure that Mary would be even more anxious to be on her way.

  She checked to make sure her short collar stood up at her neckline and that her top button was properly in place, then she followed Rebecca down the stairway, through the open foyer and to the restaurant section of the hotel.

  Two large glowing candle chandeliers lit the room even though light spilled through the windows from the setting sun. Anna and Sadie were already seated at a table in the center of the room and appeared relieved to see Maggie and Rebecca approach. Nothing like being put on display. Maggie looked around the room filled with men who, by the scarcity of food in front of them, obviously were only waiting to see the women. Tonight must be quite a boon for business. Mr. Austin had even put his two boys to work clearing tables.