by Indiana Wake
Then when Mary had promised hordes of women coming and only four arrived, he expected there was going to be a riot outside the station. Mary was already knee-deep in trouble. Her idea of making this a better place by providing wives was rapidly sinking unless she could marry these girls off quickly and show that she could get more.
But the thought of seeing Amy married off to one of the men who worked down the mines or in the town didn’t sit well with Philip. After knowing her such a short time that already had him pulling up short. He didn’t care about a wife at all so why was he concerned about who married Amy, a virtual stranger?
Maybe he had been out in the sun too long. Maybe the heat had fried his brain.
Mary ushered the girls into the lounge, settling them into chairs around a table. An older woman with graying hair entered with a tea tray, giving Mary a smile as she set it down before withdrawing. Mary began to pour the tea, offering one to Philip first. Philip took the cup and sat in the vacant chair next to Mary, which also happened to be next to Amy. Philip sipped at his tea, shifting his position so he didn’t have Amy in his eyesight. Somehow he knew if he did that he would be staring at her.
“How many women have responded to your letters and adverts, Mary?” Amy asked.
Why did that voice have to sound like sweet honey?
Mary grimaced as she handed out the tea.
“Not many. You four are the first to respond. The rest of the responses are trickling in but not as many as I’d like.”
Amy grunted.
“That’s hardly surprising. It is a long way and it’s practically in the middle of nowhere.”
“In the middle of the Gold Rush?”
“Fair point.”
Andrea sighed.
“So, what do we do from here?”
Mary put the teapot down and sat, picking up her own teacup and sipping from it delicately.
“The four of you have got rooms here at the mission station for a few days and then we’ll have rooms ready for you at the boarding house across the street. Then, once you’ve got settled, my husband and I are going to sort out matches for you.”
“Your husband?” Melissa’s eyes widened. “You really want to put a man in charge of matching us up to other men?”
Mary laughed.
“Don’t worry, Gareth’s judgment in people is a lot better than mine. Then you see what you think of the men we matched you with and give us a yes or a no. If a yes, that’s great and we can plan a wedding. If a no, no problem we will see if there’s someone else.”
It still sounded like far too much trouble. And Philip had also expressed his concerns at Gareth Stanier helping out. He wasn’t the best of people when it came to talking to women unless it was his mother, sister-in-law or wife. Hopefully, at talking to men, he was a little better.
But, even then, Philip still wasn’t sure.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Bryony asked.
“It’s not an exact science but we listen to the clients, both you and the men, and we trust our judgment as well.” Mary gave a confident nod. “It’ll work.”
Philip was aware of Amy moving beside him. He couldn’t stop himself from looking, in time to see her sit forward and survey her friend with a strange expression.
“You’ve changed,” she murmured. “You never used to be this confident.”
“Things are different now.” Mary winked. “Being married certainly helps.”
Philip tuned out the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t into idle chit-chat and the women began talking about things he wasn’t interested in. After what seemed like an age, Mary suggested the women head to their relevant rooms. The older woman, Mary’s mother-in-law, led the five of them into the east wing, leading them each to their own rooms.
Amy was the last one.
Philip hovered near her, sensing her quietness. She had been getting more and more withdrawn as the conversation went on. Even when he wasn’t listening, he could feel it. Amy’s presence was easy to sense despite Philip trying to ignore it.
Only a few hours in her presence and he was already reduced to a gibbering idiot.
Amy stood in the hallway staring out of the window. The street outside was starting to bustle with the evening trade and the men were going to the saloons for drinks and card games. It was loud but muffled. Philip had got used to tuning it all out.
He touched Amy’s shoulder.
“Miss Palmer?”
Amy jumped and spun around, almost falling into him. Philip grabbed her arms and held her upright. They stared at each other, the air seeming to get thicker between them. Then Amy blushed a deep red, even in the candlelight, and stepped back, brushing her hands down her skirts.
“Sorry, Sheriff. I was miles away.”
“I could tell.” Philip shuffled from foot to foot. “Erm… penny for your thoughts?”
Amy sighed. Her hands were still fidgety.
“I know I agreed to this but… I don’t know, now, I’m nervous.”
“That’s understandable.” He really needed to move. Philip had a feeling if he didn’t move anytime soon, he was not going to be leaving the mission station at all. And he had work to do, which was not fawning over Amy Palmer. “Listen, if you want someone to talk to who isn’t one of the other ladies, just let me know. I’m a good listener.”
Amy arched an eyebrow.
“You’d listen to a girl complaining about not finding love?”
“It’s better than listening to a big miner complaining about not finding love.” Philip cleared his throat and stepped back, trying to look anywhere but at Amy. “Goodnight, Miss Palmer.”
He hurried away, aware that Amy was watching him go.
3
The next three weeks passed by amicably enough. Philip had plenty to do with rowdy townspeople, most of whom liked to drink a little too much, and he did have to help diffuse the angry men who realized that only a handful of women had come to them for marriage.
These things took time and Philip and Gareth had to work hard to pacify the man who had written in. A few of them were still angry about Mary’s supposed declaration but most of them backed off, agreeing to take it one step at a time. After all, four women were looking for husbands and they weren’t matched up yet. Most of the men realized that they must be on their best behavior to have a chance at one of the four.
Philip didn’t know how Amy felt about it but it was almost like taking cattle to market and parading them in front of prospective buyers to skin and stick on a spit. Mary may have been doing her friends a favor but, at the same time, it felt incredibly clinical. Every time he saw one of the girls in the town, Philip could see several other men watching them. They would often stand in groups, mumbling like a bunch of old washerwomen. However, he was sure that the whispers passing between them were not courteous and not for a woman’s ears.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop staring at Amy. She just captured his attention and, to Philip, that wasn’t good. He had watched his parents as he grew up. How they had suffered in a loveless and very unhappy marriage. There were arguments and violence, most of which had scared the little Philip Anthony. He had vowed from the age of ten never to marry, to prefer his own company. He didn’t need a woman in his life to fight with and a child to terrify.
Only that resolve was rapidly disappearing after each time he saw Amy. Even when he had no business at the mission station, Philip went over there whenever he could in the pretense that he was helping the missionaries.
The Stanier family were happy to have his help but Philip was sure Mary knew what was going on. And if Amy did, she didn’t say anything. She seemed just as welcoming to him, allowing him to help her with whatever manual labor she was doing.
She was an interesting woman. She didn’t do much small talk, either, preferring to look toward more meaningful conversations. Her knowledge was greater than Philip’s but he didn’t care; just listening to her talk was good enough. She had a lovely voice and
he could listen to her all day without getting bored.
How she had managed nearly a month in San Francisco without a man becoming a permanent fixture in her life, Philip had no idea. She was just what any man would want in a wife. And if Philip was so inclined towards marriage, he might have tipped his hat at her. But he wasn’t... so he didn’t. He didn’t want a wife and he was sure Amy wouldn’t want to be married to someone like him. He was too cynical, too quiet, for her.
However, as the days went on, Philip began to wonder what it would be like to have a wife. Specifically, one like Amy Palmer. But every time those thoughts reared their head, he pushed these away. Those were not thoughts he needed. His work was dangerous and he was not good company for anyone. It was better to keep her at arm’s length.
But late at night he would lie awake and wonder — if that was the case, why did he keep coming back to see her?
Then one evening, Philip was heading back to his home after leaving his deputy in charge for the night. He passed the one restaurant that San Francisco had and glanced in as he went past, only to double-take and go back. Amy was sitting at the table in the window. She was at a table for two but alone, looking beautiful in a red dress. Her hair was fastened in a low bun at the nape of her neck, smoothed away from her ever-browning face. She looked nervous, her hands fiddling with the cutlery on the table.
She was waiting for a date. Philip didn’t think Amy would randomly dress up and sit at a table for two for nothing. He should walk away and leave it be but he couldn’t. Instead, he stepped into the restaurant, nodded at the waitress as she hurried past, and went over to Amy.
“Miss Palmer?”
Amy looked up, her eyes widening when she saw him. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip.
“Sheriff Anthony. I…I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”
“I was heading home and I saw you.” Philip indicated the other chair. “Are you waiting for someone?”
Stupid question. Of course she was.
Amy hesitated, her hands now twisting together in her lap.
“I’m afraid I am. But he’s rather late. I think he’s got held up with work.”
Philip could very well believe that. Things were incredibly busy; you could relax for a second and then it all piled up very quickly. Amy could be waiting for a while.
“Would you like some company while you wait?” he blurted out.
Why did he ask that? It would make things very awkward when the man who wanted to court her turned up. But Philip couldn’t help feel some satisfaction when Amy gave him a smile and nodded.
“I wouldn’t mind, thank you.”
Philip had to stop himself from moving too quickly as he took off his Stetson and sat down, putting his hat on the table and stretching out his legs. A few people, the slightly wealthier in town, gave him strange looks but Philip ignored them. He was more focused on Amy.
“So,” he said, “Who’s the lucky man?”
Amy snorted.
“I wouldn’t call him lucky.”
“I would.”
Where had that come from? Amy looked as surprised as Philip felt. The blush on her cheeks deepened even more.
“You’re going to embarrass me before things have started, Sheriff,” she said wagging a finger in mock reproach.
“I like to be blunt.”
“You weren’t that way when we met. I seem to remember you tripped over your words all the time.”
Philip winced. He could remember that too.
“It’s taken me a while to get the hang of talking to women. I’ve been out here without so many females for about three years.”
Amy arched an eyebrow, a slight smile curving at her lovely mouth.
“You make yourself sound like a monk or a hermit.”
“Sometimes, it feels like that.” Philip felt this was getting too personal and switched away from it. “So, who’s the lucky man?”
“Gary Wootton.”
That almost had Philip falling off his chair in surprise.
“The fabric merchant?”
“You know him?”
“I do.”
Unfortunately. Philip knew Wootton to be a nasty man who wasn’t very kind to the women around him. In his opinion they needed a good slap to fall into line. He had been arrested a few times for thinking he could raise a hand to a married woman because she answered back, only to have the husband attack him. Wootton didn’t know the limits of society and often overstepped them.
What was Mary thinking when she matched him to Amy? She must have gone mad in the sun.
“How did you get matched up to him?”
“Gareth does the matching as well as Mary.” Amy shrugged. “This was one of his.”
“He’s clearly not got the touch.”
“You think we’re not suited at all?”
Philip knew he needed to keep quiet – this was Amy’s impending dinner date, after all – but he couldn’t help himself. Amy was about to be in dangerous company.
“Absolutely not. Gary Wootton’s a mean man. There was a lot of talk when he arrived about why he was really in San Francisco. It appears he thinks every woman needs a firm hand and to stay in her place. But there’s nothing set in stone, is there?” he added hurriedly when he saw Amy’s face pale.
Amy was now looking slightly sick. She shifted and looked about, her eyes saying she wished she could leave without being rude.
“Oh, dear.”
This wasn’t what Philip wanted, was it? He certainly didn’t want her going into a relationship unless her eyes were wide open. She just needed to take everything with a pinch of salt. Who knew? Wootton could be perfect for her and Amy could temper him down.
That didn’t feel right at all. And Philip didn’t feel happy about leaving Amy alone. He indicated a nearby table, which was empty.
“Do you want me to hang around?”
Amy’s eyes flooded with relief and she nodded quickly.
“If you wouldn’t mind?”
Philip certainly didn’t mind.
4
Amy was pleased to see Philip. He was a welcoming sight, someone who could calm her just by being close by. It was strange but true. Philip Anthony had become a permanent fixture in her life, letting her enjoy his company. He was gruff and a little unsociable but he was always there and he didn’t pull back when giving advice. Amy liked that blunt side of him and she always looked forward to seeing him.
It was a shame that he wasn’t interested in getting married. Amy could see him married with children quite happily. But the thought of anyone else being married to Philip didn’t sit well with her... only she couldn’t understand why. They were friends and Amy valued that friendship. She wanted Philip to be happy. Why was she uncomfortable with the thought of Philip with a wife?
She couldn’t be in love with him, surely? That couldn’t be happening, not this fast. Amy was also sure that Philip didn’t see her like that. They got on very well and she could talk to him for hours but they were simply friends. Weren’t they?
Amy didn’t know what to think anymore.
She was here to meet with Gary Wootton, someone Gareth had said would be good for her and who was looking for a hard-working wife. Amy didn’t mind doing hard work and she was interested in fashion so being married to a cloth merchant would work. Wouldn’t it?
Then Wootton himself came strolling into the restaurant soon after Philip had taken his place at the next table. Amy’s heart lifted a little when she saw him. He was very handsome. Swarthy-looking but dashing at the same time. He had a smile that flashed a lot of teeth and there was a confident air about him.
Physically, Gary Wootton looked perfect, almost as good as Philip. Maybe this could work this time. Amy wanted it to; she was fed up with turning everyone down.
But once Wootton sat them down and they ordered, Amy’s heart sank. She realized that he was not much different than the other men she had met. He was cocky and very arrogant, talking about his work t
o the point it was complimenting just him and barely mentioning anything else. By the sound of it he treated the staff abysmally and spoke scathingly about the people around him.
And he was boring. Very boring. It was the worst dinner Amy had shared and that was impressive, considering the men she had met so far. Amy didn’t want to talk about just Wootton; she wanted to talk about other things, mostly what she knew as well. However, Wootton barely let her get a word in. So, after a while she simply sat and picked at her food, her appetite had disappeared.
“Amy?”
Amy started. She looked up and saw Wootton looking at her strangely.
“Sorry?”
“Are you well?” Wootton indicated her plate. “You looked miles away and you’ve barely eaten.”
“I…” Amy felt like a fool. This was bad manners and she had been taught not to act like this. She needed to get out of here as gracefully as she could. She sighed and put her fork down. “I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t feel particularly well.”
Wootton frowned. He didn’t look entirely convinced.
“You should have said something.”
“I didn’t want to be impolite. This is meant to be a nice dinner.”
Wootton arched an eyebrow, still looking skeptical.
“I’m not that intimidating, am I? Women often find me very interesting to talk to.”
“I…” Amy could remember what Philip had said. Maybe he had been right. Maybe the rumors were true. She pushed her plate away. “Listen, do you mind if I head home? I really don’t feel too well.”
“Of course.” Wootton put his fork aside and started to stand. “I’ll walk you back.”
“No!” Amy shot to her feet. “No, you stay and finish your dinner. I’ll be fine. I…” She hurried towards the door. “Goodnight, Mr. Wootton.”
