Grooms with Honor Series, Books 4-6

by Linda K. Hubalek

  “Well, who do we have here, Sloan?” The man smiled as he advanced, holding out his hand to Lily.

  “Your ‘mail-order bride,’ Miss Lily Lind, sir,” Sloan said with a reluctant nod.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Lind. I’m Mr. Wilber Hardesty who you corresponded with.” He took Lily’s hand, and gave it a light squeeze, before lifting his other hand, acting like he was going to caress her cheek. “You are so much more stunning in person than your photo shows.”

  “Thank you for the compliment. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hardesty,” Lily said, hoping her trembling hand in his wasn’t too noticeable.

  “Where are you from?” Hardesty dropped his hands from hers and demanded in a condescending voice. His abrupt change of greeting was very similar to what Sloan had shown her at the depot.

  “You wrote to me, sir, and you know I lived in Massachusetts.” She was not going to be put down for her immigrant background again.

  “Before that? Sounds like you came from a Scandinavian country,” Hardesty flatly stated.

  Lily stood a bit taller, bristling at his apparent displeasure of her origin. “I am an American who moved here from Sweden two years ago.” She had worked so hard on learning the English language, and yet he disapproved of her slight accent.

  “Yes, well, we’ll see how this works out.”

  “Mr. Hardesty, I came here to be your wife, but the welcome I’m getting doesn’t seem like it is so.” Lily tried to stay strong, and not reveal the panic building in her chest.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Lind. I didn’t mean to upset you. I think it is best to get to know each other for a certain length of time before the ceremony, don’t you agree?”

  His answer calmed her heartbeat a tad. What was she thinking? She had imagined Mr. Hardesty meeting her at the depot, excited to meet his future bride. That illusion’s bubble popped as soon as Sloan and reality met her at the train station.

  “Yes, I do think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry if I don’t have much enthusiasm right now but, I’m tired…and hungry after my long trip.”

  “Didn’t you take advantage of a sleeping berth and dining car?” Hardesty asked as if shocked she hadn’t done that.

  Lily felt a blush creep up her face. “No, your ticket was for a passenger seat only, sir…and I couldn’t afford to pay extra for those comforts.”

  “I see,” he said as the tips of his mouth turned upward as if knowing—and pleased—she had limited funds of her own?

  “Sloan, would you please summon Mrs. Mason to come into the office?” Hardesty looked at Lily, studying her intently.

  “You are a beautiful woman. But can you sing American songs, play the piano?”

  Lily felt uncomfortable at his change of subject. “I play instruments, but the piano isn’t one I’m proficient in. I know songs like Love’s Old Sweet Song, Lift High the Cross…”

  Hardesty cringed when she mentioned the Christian song. “Miss Lind, our clients prefer happy tunes, not ones they may hear in church.”

  “Why does my singing have anything to do with our marriage?” This conversation was ringing warning bells in her head.

  “Miss Lind, our business is to offer refreshments and entertainment to our customers. As part of your duties—to the Emporium and me—you’ll help here by singing and being a hostess,” he carefully stated, as if she was a child or a stupid immigrant who couldn’t understand English?

  “Yes, Mr. Hardesty?” A short, wiry woman with her gray hair tightly contained in a bun, interrupted their conversation. She wore a black shirtwaist and skirt, so Lily wondered if she was a widow still in mourning.

  “Yes, Mrs. Mason. I’d like you to meet Miss Lily Lind. Would you show her to the room we talked about previously? After a brief rest, I’m sure she’d like a sandwich before coming back to meet Mr. Boswell, our…musical director.”

  Mrs. Mason turned and walked away without saying a word. After hearing Lily wasn’t following her, she looked over her shoulder and said, “This way, Miss Lind.”

  Lily clutched her carpet bag and followed the woman down the hallway to narrow stairs leading to the second floor.

  “There’s a grand stairway from the main room, but you are to use this staircase to access the second floor.”

  Twelve room doors, six on either side of the hallway were closed, but there were women’s voices coming from a couple of them.

  “Is this a hotel too?” Lily asked Mrs. Mason as they stopped at the room at the end of the hall.

  “No, Miss Lind,” she answered without providing any more information. “Here is your room. There is a pitcher of water and basin ready for you to use. Please put on the blue dress you see on the wall hook after you clean up. The chamber pot is behind the screen in the corner of the room. I’ll come back in forty-five minutes with a plate of food. And, do not go out in the hall or talk to anyone.”

  Lily stood in the middle of the room, staring at the door the woman just departed from. What—and why stay away from other people?

  *

  Lily pulled at the top front of the dress, embarrassed at the lack of material to cover her shoulders adequately. The satin gown had apparently been worn many times before; instead of long sleeves, it had short sleeves—which was not the proper attire for a respectable lady. Lily had a very limited wardrobe in her bag, but she did have a white shawl which she wrapped around her shoulders and arms.

  The short nap on the lumpy bed in a cold room made her more tired than rested, and her stomach still growled after eating the sandwich made with white bread, a smear of butter and a thin slice of ham.

  She desperately needed sleep, so she hoped this “meeting” with the music person was short, so she could go back to the room for a long slumber.

  “Miss Lind,” Mr. Hardesty gestured to the man on the stage, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Boswell, who will play the piano and listen to your voice. Please face him in front of the music stand and sing the song from the music sheets.” He paused before asking, “I assume you can read English music?”

  “Yes, I can. Hello, Mr. Boswell. I’m afraid my voice is not in the best shape due to my week of traveling to Chicago.” The middle-aged man looked more like a vagabond than a music director, but apparently, he could play the piano.

  “That’s all right. I can still hear if you have a good pitch, Miss Lind,” Mr. Boswell said as he played the song on the piano, apparently so she could listen to the tune. “Start in when I nod to you.”

  Lily struggled to sing and follow along with the tempo the pianist played. Luckily, she had heard the song before, so she wasn’t lost reading the music.

  “Not bad—considering she’s an immigrant,” Mr. Hardesty said to Mr. Boswell, causing Lily’s temper to rise because they were judging her status, and they were talking as if she wasn’t standing right there in front of them.

  “Let’s hear you sing an American song a cappella. Do you know what that means?” Mr. Boswell asked.

  “Yes, it means to sing without being accompanied by an instrument,” Lily answered, trying not to snap back at him. What American song do I know by heart which I can impress them with?

  Lily stood straight, lowered her shoulders and started clearly singing, “Oh say can you see, by the dawn’s early light…”

  After she hit the highest note right on pitch and finished the song, both gentlemen stood and clapped. “Very nice, Miss Lind, even if you are tired today.”

  The men sat down, looking at each other in thought, until Mr. Hardesty said, “The Swedish Nightingale’s last name was also Lind, correct? It’s been a few decades since Jenny Lind came to America and gave a lot of large-scale concerts for P. T. Barnum.” He twisted his mouth in thought. “You aren’t by chance a relative of hers, Miss Lind? Perhaps a cousin, or her niece?”

  “No, sir, I’m sure we are not related.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You immigrants usually change your name when you come over here. What is your Swedish name
?” Mr. Hardesty raised his eyebrows questioning her.

  “Lily Lind.” For some reason, she didn’t feel safe telling him her original name.

  He nodded his head in deference to her refusal to say anything else. “Mr. Boswell, we’ll talk about this later. Miss Lind, I’m sure you’re starving. Let’s adjourn to my office for an early dinner before the evening crowd arrives. After we eat, you can go back up to your room. I’m sure you’ll look forward to a long restful sleep in a real bed tonight.”

  Lily took his extended hand but hesitated when he said they would dine alone. But then, if they were going to become man and wife, this was their opportunity to get to know each other. She didn’t like the idea of working in a saloon, but the matchmaking agency had checked him out and assured her he was a proper candidate for a husband.

  What if this doesn’t work out? Where will I go, and without any money?

  Chapter 2

  It was late afternoon when Seth checked into the five-story, brick hotel where he was staying. It was a mile walk to the hotel in the blustery chilly wind, and the closer he was to the yards nearby, the noisier and smellier the atmosphere became. The sound of thousands of animals in the yard pens was constant and almost deafening at times.

  He was accustomed to smelling cattle manure, growing up near Ellsworth, Kansas, which had been the ending point of the Texas cattle trail drives in the 1870s. When the herds of Texas Longhorns arrived early summer through late fall, they grazed in the area until they were loaded on train cars for their journey back east. There’d been tens of thousands of longhorns, along with the dust, manure, and flies they brought with them. But this manure was contained in the yard pens and concentrated—and with the addition of hogs—it made his eyes water and burn.

  The American Horse Show was being held in the Exposition Building the first week in November with the American Fat Stock Show, another week’s event starting a few days after the first show. Seth had coordinated his trip to visit the last two days of the horse show, have a few days to view stock in the stockyards, then attend the first days of the Fat Stock Show. There was a weekly horse auction in the stockyards, and he planned to buy some breeding stock at the sale and take them back to Kansas in a livestock railcar.

  Seth was the horse breeder for the Straight Arrow Ranch, part of the Cross C Company in Ellsworth County, Kansas. Besides raising stock horses for ranch hand use, the ranch raised and sold top of the line Morgan stallions and mares.

  Isaac Connely had started the Cross C Ranch after the Civil War, using Texas Longhorns for his first herd. Over time he, along with his nephew, Marcus Brenner, who took over the daily management of the ranch, crossed the Longhorns with Hereford bulls. They acquired more land, now making it one of the largest ranch companies in the area with over thirty thousand acres.

  The breeding horse operation, averaging a herd of around two hundred head, was on a smaller, connecting ranch, which Mr. Connely had bought.

  The ranch was still called Straight Arrow, or shortened to the Arrow, named by the first owners of the land. Seth lived in the original two-story, wooden ranch house. From spring through fall, he had extra help who lived in the ranch’s bunkhouse. From November through March he was the only one watching the horse herd in the pastures but hired help if he needed it, such as when it was necessary for him to be gone on this weeklong trip.

  The Straight Arrow was five miles straight north of Clear Creek, the closest town, but Seth liked the isolation—most of the time. Now at age twenty-six, Seth found himself wishing he was sharing his home and life with a wife and family.

  Four of his brothers, Angus, Fergus, Mack, and Cullen, had married within the past three years and all now lived in Clear Creek. Tully, their youngest brother, lived with Seth for a few years on the ranch, but Tully recently left to go to school back East.

  Sunday dinners at his parent’s home, the parsonage since his father was the pastor at the Clear Creek Community Church, was now a noisy affair with his brothers’ young families.

  Now Seth sat at a table in the hotel’s restaurant enjoying a rare beef steak, mashed potatoes and the company of men he just met. The men, who were also here to attend the shows, ranged from young to old, experienced and novices, exhibitors and buyers. The people came all the way from Canada to Texas, bringing different expertise from their area’s land and climate, and livestock they raised.

  The conversation jumped from today’s blustery weather, mishaps people suffered traveling to Chicago, to who they thought would win the cart horse or the jumping class at the ongoing horse show.

  “Plan to check out the saloons in the area?” a young man who sat across the table, asked Seth.

  “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” Seth put off giving a direct answer because Seth didn’t go into drinking establishments. His ma, Kaitlyn Reagan, would box his ears if he ever thought about doing that.

  “I went to the Stockyard Emporium the other night and plan to go again in a few days. They had some good-lookin’ women singing in the saloon...and doing other things for men upstairs if you know what I mean,” he grinned while wiggling his eyebrows. “I heard they’re gettin’ a new singer from back East this week, so I don’t want to miss her act.”

  The Stockyard Emporium? Where had he heard that name before? It was at the depot when he overheard the man and woman talking. The Swedish woman, a Miss Lind, was being taken there, and at the time he wondered what she was getting into. Was she the new singing act? Seth thought he understood she was a mail-order bride, planning to meet her future husband.

  “Yes, I’d like to go with you,” Seth said to the man. His parents wouldn’t approve of him stepping into a saloon, let alone drinking a beer. But Seth was a grown man and curious enough about Miss Lind’s welfare to venture inside the “swinging doors” so to speak.

  ***

  Lily only got a glimpse of her fiancé over the next two days. He was always “too busy right now” to talk to her. Lily needed clothes because other than the dress she wore on her trip to Chicago, she only had extra undergarments and a few other pieces of clothing in her bag. Mrs. Mason said she’d mention it to Mr. Hardesty, but nothing materialized after the conversation—if it ever took place.

  The only time Lily was permitted out of her room was in the mornings when Mr. Boswell worked with her on songs she was to sing during her debut performance. She still couldn’t get through one song without blushing, thinking about the “randy” lyrics she was to sing—out loud for heaven’s sakes.

  During the second day, Lily stepped out into the hall when she heard other women, but they went into their rooms as soon as she opened her door. Lily went knocking on doors to talk to someone, but the women never answered.

  Since Lily had tried to talk to someone else, Mrs. Mason kept Lily sequestered to her room, bringing in meals, and taking out her dirty wash water and chamber pot as needed. If Lily hadn’t slept so much because of her exhaustion, she would have gone stark crazy.

  The one small, dirty window in the room looked out to the back alley, but after watching dogs chasing giant rats—and drunk men vomiting and then passing out in their mess—she didn’t look out the window after the first day.

  Of course, she could only sleep during the day. The loud noises coming from downstairs from early evening to early morning kept her wide awake. Plus, more than once during the night, someone turned her doorknob, trying to enter her room. Lily angled the only chair in the room under the knob to block anyone from entering, but she wasn’t sure if it would hold against a hard shove.

  Lily soon figured out what men—and women—were coming upstairs to do. She nearly fainted when she heard what was going on in the room next to hers. The walls were paper thin, and even with sticking her fingers in her ears, she’d heard an “anatomy lesson” she’d never forget.

  Lily dissolved into tears twice but hadn’t given in to panic yet. Surely, Mr. Hardesty had a lovely home in a good neighborhood where she could live and have a normal life
with friends, shopping and attending church functions, even if her husband was gone “working” most evenings.

  She had no money for food or shelter if she could leave. And where would she go? Her best idea so far—and the only one—was to find a church and ask for help, wherever one might be. It was clear on their carriage ride over here that the Emporium was in a rough part of town, and it was very near the stockyards.

  Now it was her third night here, and there was a knock on her door. Beside Mrs. Mason was one of the girls she had seen in the hall earlier in the day. She was shorter than Lily, with black hair and a gaudily made-up face. Lily was embarrassed to look at the woman because of all the cleavage showing in her low-cut, dusky pink dress.

  “I’ll handle her, Mrs. Mason. Go tell Mr. Hardesty she’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” The woman pushed Lily back into her room and shut the door, holding a finger up to her mouth to signal to be quiet. After five seconds she yanked the door open, and Lily saw Mrs. Mason was standing there, looking caught and uneasy.

  “I said I’d get her ready,” the woman raised her voice and leaned against the doorframe until Mrs. Mason reluctantly moved down the hall.

  “Keep quiet while I talk to you, and we get you ready for your first night. I’m Fannie, but don’t talk to me when you see me elsewhere. Understood?”

  Lily looked at Fannie and realized she was serious. “First take off your dress so we can get this corset on you. Whether you like it or not, you need to show your assets tonight, then I’ll apply your makeup.”

  “No! Then I’ll look like a ‘painted lady’!”

  “Honey, whether you like it or not, that’s what you are now,” Fannie said as she helped Lily undress.

  “I came here as a mail-order bride for Mr. Hardesty! The matchmaker agency checks the references of all the men who place advertisements, and they said Mr. Hardesty was an upstanding businessman in the shipping industry.”