Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

by Lauri Robinson

  He couldn’t hold back his own grin. She had chosen. He scooped her up and spun her around. She might not realize it yet, but she had chosen.

  Him.

  She beat her fists against his shoulders—not very hard. “Put me down! This is serious! What am I going to tell Mary? You have to help me figure it out.”

  “I will,” he said, putting her back on her feet. “I promise. But the first thing I’m going to do is see Mayor Melbourne about a way to get you out of that contract. If it takes money...I’ll see to it.”

  Her eyes brightened. “You would do that?”

  “I said I cared for you.”

  “Indeed you did,” she said softly, and then smiled the purest, sweetest smile, just for him.

  “As a matter of fact it’s more than that,” he said, his heart pounding, more nervous then he’d ever been before. “I love you.”

  Her lips parted as a stunned expression stole over her face. “Jackson!” she breathed.

  “A letter from my brother brought me here. My promise to him kept me here. I’ve been buried in my work—shutting out the world. But then you showed up and I found myself...”

  “Annoyed?”

  He grinned. “A little. At first. But it’s all changed now. For the first time in a long time I look forward to seeing what the next day will bring and...when I will see you again.”

  She sighed. “I feel the same way...about always hoping to see you.”

  He noticed that she hadn’t admitted to loving him. He was willing to wait. He wanted her to be sure. “Angus? Turn your head. I’m gonna kiss this woman.”

  He heard Angus chuckle. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you. I’d say it’s about time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maggie took what had become her regular seat in the hotel dining room with the other brides. The scent of bacon hovered in the air, making her stomach grumble.

  While she waited for her breakfast to be served, she looked out at the storm clouds rolling in from the southwest and felt carried by a fog of happiness that had enveloped her since yesterday. Jackson’s out-and-out declaration that he cared for her hadn’t exactly taken her by surprise. After all, he had kissed her—twice. Yet for a man like him to talk about his feelings, to admit he loved her right there with Angus looking on—well, that was something.

  His kiss had been nothing like the other two. His lips on hers were strong, decisive, intentional. He had claimed her. Stolen her breath and turned her bones to butter. And all she knew was that she wanted more of him—more holding, more kissing, more talking and teasing. More time.

  She didn’t want to have to leave Oak Grove.

  They’d gone to the mayor’s office about the contract, but the place was locked up tight. Jackson would try again this morning. He promised. She could hardly wait to see him and hear what transpired. She had always prided herself in being independent. She was new at this—having a man help her, having a man care. Mary once said a man was the last thing they needed and Maggie remembered agreeing. She didn’t need Jackson, but she certainly wanted him.

  “You could wait until she is done with her breakfast. She just sat down.”

  At Rollie Austin’s sputtering, Maggie glanced toward the door. The sheriff and Mayor Melbourne brushed past him and strode to her table.

  “Miss McCary,” the sheriff said. “We need a word with you.”

  Her heart sped up. Had Jackson already said something to them? Was this about the contract? Before she had a chance to ask he slapped the new edition of the Oak Grove Gazette on the table and pointed to it. Front and center was Anna’s interview and a small picture beside it—a sketched image of one of Maggie’s bottles.

  Maggie looked across the table at her friend. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing! I talked about me.”

  A sinking sensation hit the pit of her stomach. What had Abigail written?

  “The hotel’s office will afford us privacy,” said the mayor. “Or we can discuss things here.”

  She swallowed. This had all happened in Pennsylvania with her father. They had let him go after seeing his permit. She, however, did not have a permit. She followed the mayor into the small office.

  “A strong substance...an elixir...is being dispensed throughout town.” He set a bottle of McCary tonic on the office desk.

  The label stared back at her. M&M.

  “Is it yours?”

  “Not anymore. I sold that one.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  She repeated what she’d often heard her father say over the years. “McCary’s Finest Recipe Tonic has a long and established history of helping folks with their ailments. It’s a family recipe and my da, before he departed this earth, ran the business.”

  The mayor lifted a brow. “You make it, bottle it and sell it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I take it that you have more? Where?”

  She lifted her chin. “Unless I have committed a crime, I don’t see that that is any of your business.”

  “You can’t sell it here without a permit,” said Mayor Melbourne. “And I don’t give permits to women. I have to confiscate the rest of your supply.”

  “You mean steal it!”

  “I mean nothing of the sort. It won’t do you any good. I’m not sure who you’ve set your cap at for a husband, but unless it is Dan or Chris Sanders at the saloon, no man in Oak Grove is going to be agreeable about this family trade of yours.”

  Jackson must not have spoken to him yet. She wanted to ask about the contract, but now, considering his mood, it wasn’t the best time.

  “Where is the rest?” the sheriff said, cutting right to the point.

  Pressing her lips together, she stomped outside to the cellar and showed them what remained of her supply—five bottles.

  “How many originally?” asked the sheriff.

  “Twenty.”

  “All sold here in town?”

  “No. Three, I poured out.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Was it tainted?”

  She backed off at the insinuation of poor quality tonic. Not her family! “Of course not! I decided to stop selling it. I realized that people might depend on it rather than seeking the advice of a doctor.”

  Mayor Melbourne grunted. “Well what do you think, Baniff? What should we do with our wayward young bride?”

  Sheriff Baniff considered her. “Miss McCary doesn’t appear to have acted out of malice.”

  House arrest—or rather hotel arrest—for the time being was their answer. Sheriff Baniff and the mayor made her give her word that she wouldn’t leave the hotel until they hashed things out.

  While Maggie walked slowly up the stairs to her room, they explained things to Mr. Austin and her friends. The sheriff, quite politely she thought, requested that they keep what was going on between only those who were present. Immediately, she thought of Jackson. And then Mary. In that order.

  Oh, dear. Just what did that say about her?

  She had really messed things up. She would have to figure things out on her own. It was her problem and she’d brought it on herself. It was up to her to get herself out of it.

  * * *

  Jackson finished his breakfast of bread and cheese and a glass of cider. Today he’d hunt down the mayor before the man had a chance to slip away on business again. Jackson was either getting Maggie out of that blasted contract so that she could be free to choose her own destiny—which he hoped would include him—or he would donate to the bride fund and convince her to marry him.

  He’d never met a woman so alive, so fascinating, and he wasn’t going to let her get away. There had to be some way to get her to stay, but he didn’t want it to be because of any contract. He wanted her to stay because her heart was
here in Oak Grove, because she loved the town and the people, and most of all, because she loved him.

  Which was a tall expectation for a woman who loved her independence. A woman like that wouldn’t give up her freedom easily.

  He guessed he would have to charm her.

  He wasn’t much good in that area. It was Ben who had the easygoing charm. The women had flocked to him.

  He, on the other hand, had preferred being at arm’s length, at least he had since Christine. The easiest way to avoid getting hurt again was not to care in the first place. Ben had gotten after him about it more than once, saying that when Jackson finally fell, he would fall hard and for life. Looked like his brother had been right. No woman had caught his attention like Maggie, not even Christine.

  He squeezed his fist. He had always finished what he started, always figured out a way to make things work out. This was no different. He shoved the plate aside and took the stairs up to his room two at a time. He rummaged in the bottom of a box he kept for his savings, counted out five silver dollars, and then sweetened it with a ten-dollar bill for insurance in case the mayor seemed reluctant to accept his plan. Stuffing the money in his shirt pocket, he headed to the office.

  He hammered on the thick oak door twice. No response. He backed off the boardwalk into the street and studied the mayor’s living quarters above his law office. The window was open and a dark green curtain fluttered in the light breeze.

  “Melbourne!” he called. “Open up.”

  “Hold your horses.”

  At the sound from behind him, he turned and saw both the mayor and the sheriff striding up.

  Mayor Melbourne unlocked his door, and then stepped back and let Jackson enter first. “Now what’s this about, Miller?” he asked, following him into his office.

  “I’d like to take a look at that bride contract you drafted.”

  “You didn’t donate to the fund, Miller. Afraid I can’t let you see the contract. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “What if I say that I want in now? Could I see the contract then?”

  The mayor hiked his hip onto his desk. “Are you interested in one of the women?”

  Jackson swallowed. “Yes. Maggie McCary.”

  “Well. This is a change. You—considering marriage.”

  “Only if she’ll have me. I’m more interested in getting her out of her contract. What she does after that is her choice.”

  Mayor Melbourne snorted. “Sounds like she’s got you hornswoggled. Look, Miller. We were supposed to get twelve brides and only got five. If you think the original men who donated to the fund are going to tolerate you jumping in at the last minute and stealing a bride away from them, you are crazy. It’s not going to happen.”

  A cold knot formed in his gut. “If I could just see the contract. I’ll pay double...triple.”

  The mayor shook his head. “You are entirely within your rights to get a bride out of the next batch that comes. I’ve already contacted my brother in Bridgeport. He’s rounding up more.”

  Jackson stiffened. He didn’t want the next batch. He wanted Maggie. “You make it sound like they are cattle.”

  Mayor Melbourne grunted. “Guess it does sound that way. Just a turn of phrase. Those McCary girls definitely are not cattle. Prettiest of the lot in my opinion, but they are also the most troublesome.” The mayor picked up the newspaper on his desk and shoved it at Jackson. He jabbed his finger at an article in the middle of the page. “What do you know about this?”

  Jackson scanned the article, his hope sinking with each typeset word. Anna probably didn’t even know that she’d as good as sealed Maggie’s future by revealing her as the one flooding the town with tonic. Now the mayor would never let her out of the contract. “She is done selling it. She has quit.”

  “So you knew about it.” The mayor flung the paper back on his desk and stood, squaring off with him. “Listen, Jackson. I like you. I liked your brother too. I’m sorry you got dragged into this woman’s scheme, but Maggie McCary has got you hoodwinked. She can’t wiggle out of her contract. She has to stick to the original deal and marry by next Saturday. If she doesn’t pick a husband from the bachelors, then there will be a lottery for her. You might as well let go of any thoughts of her.”

  Jackson wasn’t about to admit defeat. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a scowl. He strode out the door.

  He had to see Maggie. Although he hated to tell her that he’d failed about the contract, maybe they could come up with another solution.

  He entered the hotel lobby and took the stairs two at a time. Miss Simpson answered his knock, peering through a cracked open door.

  “I need to speak to Mag—Miss McCary.”

  Miss Simpson glanced over her shoulder quickly. “She isn’t seeing visitors just now.”

  It was obvious Maggie was in the room. “What’s going on? Is she all right?” He grabbed the door handle.

  “She’s not feeling well at the moment.” Miss Camp blocked the small opening behind Miss Simpson.

  “She’s ill?”

  “Just a headache.”

  He didn’t for one minute believe Miss Camp, but barging into the room might not endear him to Maggie if she wanted to be alone. “Would you let her know I’ll stop by later?”

  A wrinkle puckered Miss Simpson’s brow. “Certainly.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maggie paced the length of her room for the umpteenth time and stopped at the window overlooking Main Street. The dirt road was a dark void in the predawn light. No sound of footsteps on the boardwalk, no clatter of dishes in the kitchen below. Everyone still slept. At the Whistle Stop, she could barely make out the silhouettes of two horses at the railing, stomping their hooves and swishing their tails as they waited for their owners, who were probably asleep sprawled across a table.

  Jackson had come and gone four times over the past three days. Each time she had refused to speak with him. He finally stopped trying. Now each time he left his shop and turned away from the hotel it ripped out a tiny part of her. But her feelings for him could no longer matter. She couldn’t look to him for help to get out of the contract. The mayor had made a point of saying that when he went over the papers with her word for word, and then pointed out her signature at the bottom.

  She was on her own.

  Ever since Mayor Melbourne’s visit the walls of her hotel room were closing in on her. It seemed like everything was converging to ruin her life. The mayor had confiscated the few remaining bottles of tonic, but she knew she wouldn’t go back to selling it ever again. Not after learning of what had happened to Jackson’s brother.

  She couldn’t get Jackson off her mind even though she had done her best to purge her memories of his kiss. And thinking about Jackson only confused her. The best thing for her was to keep her distance. She had herself to think about. Herself and Mary. Mary would always be there for her. She couldn’t count on anyone else.

  She must talk to her sister, but there was no way to get a message to her and she had been cooped up long enough! It looked like Mary would get something even better than a message... Her.

  She had waited for just this moment while Rebecca still slept, while the entire town slept. She grabbed her carpetbag and slipped out the door, silently making her way down the stairs to the lobby. Tiptoeing through the kitchen, she let herself out of the hotel’s back door. Then, hefting the carpetbag up into both arms, she raced behind the row of buildings, passed the saloon and made her way to the livery.

  She was not a horse thief. She was only borrowing the beast she quickly saddled. Once she collected Mary, they would leave the horse in Bexler at the train depot. She placed the note of explanation she had written and her money on a bale of hay and topped it with a horseshoe to keep it from blowing away.

  As she left the town o
n horseback and followed the river north, the road was still shrouded in gray light. Crickets were giving up on their night chorus and the breeze was picking up, causing a rustling sound in the tall grass. How had she ever thought of Kansas as ugly? It carried its own beauty—its own sweet scent of the wildflowers. The prairie, the river—they whispered to her entreating her to stay.

  What would Mary think if she found out that Maggie had allowed—even enjoyed—Jackson’s kisses. The thought of his strong arms enveloping her left her weak in the knees. And yes, she yearned for him to hold her again, yearned for the touch of his lips to hers. If there were any way that she could stay and not be made to marry another, she would gladly stay. It was a completely selfish thought. Mary would chastise her into next year for messing things up so badly.

  And Sadie? Rebecca? Anna? They’d become good friends, proving their loyalty even more so over the past three days while she had had to stay at the hotel. All right, Anna had made life in Oak Grove tricky for her with the article, but she was too gullible for her own good and no match for Abigail White’s questions. Maggie knew she’d never meant to harm her.

  How could she leave these girls now and never learn how they fared?

  But more than anything, how could she leave Jackson?

  It was breaking her heart.

  Her chest weighed heavy with the ache of it, her muscles too lethargic to rein the horse properly. The horse slowed, and then stopped. Maggie stared at the long gray road ahead. At the Circle P, Mary would probably be rising about now and milking the cow, completely unaware of all that had happened in town.

  Perhaps this separation had been good for them. A test of sorts. They had survived. Maggie had learned a lot—about friendship, about what mattered in life, about caring more for others than herself. She still couldn’t get over the look in Jackson’s eyes when she had told him that she could no longer sell the tonic. It felt good—that look. He had been proud. Of her. She could die happy remembering that, even if she never saw it again in her life.