Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

by Lauri Robinson

“Well, I don’t like being chased like a poor rabbit before the dogs.”

  He tried another tack. “Aren’t you worried what people will say with you being gone so long?”

  “I’ll make up a tale. I’m fairly good at it when necessary.”

  “So you’ll lie?” What kind of woman had Mayor Melbourne acquired for the Betterment Committee?

  “Not really. I’ll simply ‘bend the truth a little.’ That’s what my da would say.”

  Interesting. “A white lie, then.”

  “Mmm... Yes. I believe that is what it is called.”

  A shout from the street made him glance up. A wagon pulled by two mules and filled with children and adults headed out of town. The party was over and people were leaving. Miss McCary really had to get out of here. He didn’t want to be wrapped up in one of her “bent truths” in any way. He wanted her out of his shop.

  “Look, miss. That cowboy is long gone. Come out so we can talk face-to-face.”

  “No.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. Short of dragging her out of the trunk by brute force, he couldn’t think of a way to make her leave. “Then you better stay. Make yourself comfortable in there.”

  “Comfortable!”

  She sounded exasperated. Good. It couldn’t be near the irritation he was feeling. Two entire days had been disturbed by the arrival of the brides and the party, and now this.

  “In that case do you have a pillow I could use?”

  The audacity of her request would have been amusing if he hadn’t been so frustrated. “You can’t stay, miss.” He spotted the dolly stored in the corner. “Matter of fact, I think I’ll move you, trunk and all, outside.”

  A muffled gasp sounded. “You wouldn’t!”

  In answer, he slipped the flat plane of the dolly under the trunk’s edge and wheeled it slowly toward the door.

  Suddenly the lid popped up and she appeared. “Stop! Stop this instant!”

  He tilted the trunk back to the floor. She was prettier than he remembered. Bewitching in a way. In the dim light, her lips were set in a stubborn bow and her skin appeared translucent and pale as the moon. Her eyes looked larger and darker. And, he realized with a twinge of amusement, she had sawdust sprinkled in her dark hair.

  With catlike grace, she slipped over the edge of the trunk. When she straightened, the entire room seemed to shrink as her presence filled it. Which was ridiculous, considering how tiny she was physically.

  She looked about the room, her inquisitive gaze lighting on the secretary in the corner and then the table and chairs by the front window. “What is this place?”

  “My shop.”

  “You make furniture? Cabinets and such?”

  He nodded. “Whatever is needed.”

  She ran her fingers over the edge of the trunk as if assessing its quality. Then she squared her shoulders and faced him, her chin high. “I suppose the situation calls for an introduction. I’m Maggie McCary.”

  “I heard. I’m Jackson Miller.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Miller. Thank you for not handing me over to that scallywag,” she said, strolling over to a half-finished hutch nearby.

  She moved gracefully, with a subtle swing to her hips that drew his gaze. He scowled when he realized it.

  Slowly, she pulled out one of the small drawers as if testing the smoothness of the fit. She pushed the drawer back in and faced him. “Tell me—are all cowboys so brash?”

  “No.”

  A pretty pout formed. “Obviously not you. You didn’t even stay for the party.”

  She had noticed? For some reason that surprised him. “I’m not looking for a bride.”

  “Well that is a good thing. A sensible thing, I think. After tearing my dress, you didn’t even think to apologize,” she said flatly. “A woman could do better.”

  Was that a challenge in her voice? A subtle tease? The fact that she was the one who had pulled away and torn her own skirt seemed to have escaped her. If anyone should be sorry, it was her for interrupting two perfectly good, quiet evenings. “Well then, miss,” he said with a hint of a smirk, “I apologize for attempting to assist you.”

  “Are you implying I should be thanking you?”

  “I never imply anything. I mean exactly what I say. Always.”

  She put her hands on her hips and gave a small shrug with her shoulders. “Well, we will just leave it at that. We’re even now.”

  Even? Not by his count. If she left now, immediately, he’d consider it, but she didn’t seem in a hurry to go.

  “Mr. Miller, don’t you ever smile?”

  He didn’t think that deserved an answer.

  Another wagon, this one pulled by two large shires, headed down the center of the road. “Farmers,” he murmured, watching it slowly trundle by. The Perkins family and their passel of redheaded kids to be exact. He watched the wagon disappear into the gathering dusk before turning back to Miss McCary.

  She was studying him intently with those large sky-blue eyes of hers. Then she repositioned her shawl across her shoulders. “I can see that I’ve interrupted your evening. I’ll be going.” The challenge, the teasing was gone from her voice.

  “I’ll walk you back.” Why didn’t he let her go on her own? Her problems weren’t his.

  She shook her head. “There is no need. I was assured several times at the party that this is a safe town for a woman to walk about without an escort.”

  “And yet you found yourself hiding in my trunk.”

  “I came here on my own two feet—I can get myself back.”

  He opened the door, stepped out on the boardwalk and checked the street. “Looks like the way is clear.”

  As she passed in front of him she paused and looked up into his eyes. “You thought I was being silly about my dress. I want you to know that I don’t usually get worked up over a bit of material.” Her voice was softer now. She bit her upper lip, contemplating him. Then she lifted her skirt slightly. “This was a present from my da. The last before he died.”

  Why was she confessing this? He didn’t want to be weighted down with her confidence. Or, he thought with a frown, one of her “bent truths” if this was her way of manipulating him. But studying her pretty face now, he didn’t think it was.

  “If Rader troubles you again...” He should end with something gallant like Hide out at my place anytime, but those words that would have been easy three years ago, wouldn’t come now. He was used to being on his own. He liked the quiet. Let a person close—like he had Christine—and it was an invitation to get hurt. “Let the sheriff know.”

  She blinked and her mouth dropped open. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you, Mr. Miller. You’ve been kind. Good evening.” And with a flounce of her skirt, she turned and marched across the street to the hotel.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Maggie left Rebecca sleeping while she dressed, and then headed downstairs for breakfast.

  Anna had chosen a table near the tall front windows of the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast, and now sat with her chin resting on her palm and her fingers tapping her cheek. “And just where were you after the party last evening?”

  Maggie slipped into the chair next to her. “I was here,” she said with a quick lift of one shoulder. Then she busied herself adjusting her skirt, avoiding Anna’s probing gaze. “I came back here.”

  “Not directly, you didn’t.”

  Mr. Austin appeared from the kitchen with a tray of cups and steaming tea. The man looked flustered as he put the tray down and handed off the cups and saucers. “Usually no call for tea here. Just coffee.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Austin. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Boys made this. No tellin’ how it’ll taste.”

  “You
can’t ruin tea,” she said gamely, and then took a sip. It was the most bitter tea she had ever had.

  He watched her face carefully.

  She splayed her hand across her neckline and forced the liquid down quickly. “How long did you steep this?”

  Mr. Austin sighed. “By the look on your face, I’m thinking too long. Honey?”

  She nodded.

  Sadie pushed a jar toward her. “I used some too.”

  Maggie stirred a spoonful into her cup, and then licked her spoon. It had a different flavor than the honey back home. How would that work in the tonic? She would have to discuss it with Mary. She took another sip of tea. “Much better.”

  “I’ll bring you a plate,” Mr. Austin mumbled and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Sadie leaned close and whispered, “His cook couldn’t come in today and since it is Saturday his boys are off from school. All told, he’s in a bind.”

  Maggie studied her over the rim of the china teacup. “I recognize that look in your eyes. You’re considering helping him.”

  Sadie stiffened. “I’m not doing anything special today.”

  “We’re guests, remember? At least enjoy your freedom for a little while. Soon enough you’ll be married off and will have to do all the cooking and dishes. If it’s to Mr. Austin, there will be plenty of those.”

  “Unless she marries the banker,” Anna said smugly. “Then she would have a cook and a housekeeper. However, if you want him, you will have to fight Rebecca.”

  “I won’t fight anybody,” Sadie said, shrinking back into her chair.

  Anna raised her brows at that, and then turned her attention to Maggie. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “For certain it won’t be work! I’d like to take a walk and see what shops there are here in town.”

  Sadie made a sound close to a giggle. “That will take all of half an hour.”

  A flash of yellow caught Maggie’s attention and she looked over to see Rebecca coming down the stairs in a pretty butter-yellow dress, trimmed in black. She moved slowly, almost what Maggie would call regally, until she realized the only people in the restaurant were two ancient farmers and her three friends. Her grand entrance having gone virtually unnoticed, her shoulders relaxed and she walked over to the table.

  “You’re up,” Maggie said. “I thought you would sleep another hour by the way you were snor—”

  “A lady doesn’t reveal things of such a private nature,” Rebecca said, interrupting Maggie. “I’ll make an allowance of course, considering your upbringing.”

  Maggie frowned. “My upbringing was just fine. Da and Mary used common sense.” She looked pointedly at Rebecca’s hat, which was covered in silk flowers. As pretty as it was, this one wouldn’t protect her from the sun. It was an old argument between them—if a couple of days could be considered long enough to have an old argument.

  “Come have a seat,” Sadie said while she patted the empty chair next to her. “Mr. Austin is having a difficult time of it this morning and breakfast may be a while. Here. He brought out a cup for you.” She proceeded to pour tea for Rebecca.

  Rebecca sighed as she sank into the seat. “Thank you. I’m fairly parched. Did you notice how that cider took on a different taste toward the end of the evening? Not bad, mind you. As a matter of fact it was rather delicious.”

  Anna let out a snort.

  With a sideways warning glance at her, Maggie said innocently. “Seemed fine to me. Are you sure?”

  “You should tell her,” Sadie said.

  “Tell me what?” Rebecca asked, suspicious now.

  “Somebody added hard liquor to the barrel after sundown,” Maggie admitted.

  The blonde’s eyes grew wide. “No! Then I’m relieved that I stopped drinking it immediately.”

  “Thought you said you liked it.” Maggie prodded her.

  “Well...it’s unseemly for a lady to imbibe. Our natures are much too delicate. At least, mine is.” She repositioned the netting on her hat in order to see them better. “You came back to the room quite late—after I retired. Just what did you do after the party?”

  Leave it to Rebecca to bring up that question again. “I had to evade Mr. Rader.”

  “Which one is he?” Sadie asked.

  “A cowboy with more ambition than good sense,” Maggie said.

  “Ambition is good,” Sadie said. “I’d hate to marry a man who didn’t want to make things better.”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. “He’s straight off the ranch. Smells like it too.” Then she paused and in her mind went over her words. Had she been too hasty? Could Mr. Rader be from the same ranch where her sister had found work? Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to run from him. He might have had news of Mary.

  The thought of her sister didn’t help. Maggie missed her terribly. And yet at the time she was still angry. Mary shouldn’t have left her to fend for herself. Anything could happen with them separated. What if things didn’t go well? What if one of them got hurt? They had never had an argument that ended up like this. One of them always gave in. Wasn’t Mary worried about her too?

  Maggie only half listened to the conversation between Anna and Sadie as she considered her situation. She was doing all right. She had friends, lodging. She might even be faring better than her sister, and wouldn’t that make Mary jealous? But perhaps she could find transportation to the ranch today and see how her sister was doing.

  Mr. Austin interrupted her thoughts, finally bringing bowls of porridge to the table. His two boys followed behind him with a small crock of butter and a pitcher of milk.

  “By the way, Maggie,” Rebecca said a few moments later when it was just the four of them again. “With all the excitement of our arrival, I am having trouble sleeping. Do you think your tonic would assist with that?”

  “Some say it helps.”

  “Then I’ll give it a try. Will you part with a bottle? I’ll pay you.”

  Her first customer! “Certainly. I’ll get it for you when we go back upstairs.”

  “Lovely.” Rebecca continued talking about the other men that she had met at the dance, discussing who would make good husband material versus who would be impossible. Anna and Sadie appeared to soak up all of her advice.

  Maggie listened for a while but soon lost interest. From the gist of things, it seemed that Jackson Miller was the only man who wanted to remain single in this town. She could just picture him as she’d first seen him last evening, bending over the table, a look of concentration on his face. It was an interesting face—a strong forehead, a thin straight line for his nose. She was not sure why he stuck in her mind so easily.

  He was not winsome like James O’Mally down at the corner grocery in Bridgeport. James had laughing eyes and a ready saying behind every word, but he was as fickle as a rooster among hens. Everything about Mr. Miller was solemn and serious and rather disagreeable. Yet he hadn’t given her away to Mr. Rader. That was commendable of him. And despite all the others that she’d danced with last night, he was the one her thoughts kept returning to.

  She looked about the table at the others. It was a good thing Mr. Jackson had no intention of taking a bride because none of the women here would make a suitable match for him.

  Rebecca would expect coddling and courting with flowers and sweet mints. She had spoken of evenings at the opera before she came upon her “unfortunate circumstances.” Mr. Miller was definitely not the doting sort. If anything he was short-tempered and easily irritated—not at all suitable for Rebecca.

  Then there was Sadie. As Maggie contemplated the quiet, serious red-haired girl, Sadie rose from her seat and carried her dirty dishes to the kitchen, stating she was going to see what she could do to help Mr. Austin. As much as Maggie liked her, she couldn’t imagine Sadie standing up to Mr. Miller. S
he would bend over backward to be his helpmate and he would let her without the least concern for the girl’s true feelings. The balance of personalities would be completely off-kilter.

  Maggie shifted her gaze to Anna, who laughed at a remark made by Rebecca. She was pretty and, although too easy to trick, she learned quickly. That she was always willing to try something new made her fun to be around. She would be perfect for Mr. Miller. Anna might even bring a smile to him. Now there was a thought! Mr. Miller with a smile... She imagined it would make him rather dashing. Yet, for some reason she didn’t like the idea of him bestowing a smile like that on Anna.

  What was she worried about? He wasn’t looking for a bride. He’d said as much. And with the little she did know about him, the thought of him smiling was preposterous.

  When they were finished their breakfast, Maggie stepped out on the boardwalk with Anna and Rebecca. They made their way slowly down their side of the two-block main street, looking through the windows and when waved at, going inside to greet the owners. A few men passed by and tipped their hats.

  Mrs. Taylor stepped from her husband’s barbershop to let them know that she was the one seamstress in town should they require any sewing. Maggie asked her about repairing her torn skirt and agreed to bring it in later in the week. When the woman rubbed the knuckles of one hand and complained of her rheumatism, Maggie mentioned the tonic she had with her and promised to bring her a sample.

  In a small town like this, she and Mary would need a different way of selling than her father had used. In Bridgeport, every Saturday morning Da had sold the tonic out of the boot of his carriage. Since she and Mary did not own a carriage—and since the town was only a few blocks—likely word of mouth would make more sense. From what she’d overheard between the sheriff in Bridgeport and the conductor, Oak Grove had rules about selling tonic and didn’t allow women a permit. She would just have to do things a little differently.

  At the end of the street they passed the church, which, with its tall white steeple, was in her estimation the prettiest and newest building in town. Then the school which was closed up tight. They started down the opposite side of the town. When they came to the Oak Grove Gazette office, Abigail White welcomed them. She was a tall, gangly woman who constantly adjusted her glasses on her nose.