Lawson was a pharmacist, of all things. He’d come to Buffalo Creek when it was nothing more than a saloon and a mercantile, but he’d made a name for himself as a bit of a healer on the side, and that was all there was to it. People came to him from all over, and he did his very best to give them what they needed.
Lawson jumped as the train whistle blew in the distance, then flinched and rubbed at the sore spot in his temple. It was so like Jason to leave him to clean up after his messes. Shortly after informing Lawson that his bride would be arriving on the next train, he’d lit out of town. What was Lawson going to tell the woman? Sorry, but it wasn’t me who sent for you, little lady. You best get on home now. Go on! Get! He imagined himself shooing a woman in a frilly skirt back onto the train and shook his head.
The train squawked and bellowed its way to stand still beside the platform, and Lawson felt his heart begin to race. In a moment, an engineer was going to open those doors and he was going to give some young woman the worst news of her life. She’d uprooted everything to come here and marry him. What had she left behind? What was she running from? Would she even be safe going back home?
Lawson drew off his cap and tapped it nervously against his leg, straightening his hair in the window of the ticket office. The doors beside the platform opened, and a handful of people began to disembark. He stood up and took a deep breath, looking around for the woman that his brother had described.
Blonde hair. Slender. Hazel eyes. His gaze darted over every person’s features as they shifted onto the platform. With every passing moment, he could feel the tension winding his stomach muscles into painful knots. Any second now, she would be there. Any second now…
But as the moments ticked by, Lawson’s confusion grew. There were no longer any other passengers leaving the train. Raising an eyebrow, he moved off down the platform, peering into compartment windows for a sign of the woman he was supposed to be meeting. Maybe she hadn’t come after all? Maybe she had changed her mind? His thoughts grew more hopeful, but then, just as he was about to move past an open doorway, a woman stumbled into his path. Lawson nearly ran right into her.
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, straightening up and fixing him with a bewildered stare. “Please excuse me.” She was tugging on her blouse and adjusting her blue-patterned skirt. One of her slender hands was gripping a leather handbag to her chest as though it were a life preserver, and Lawson knew immediately who she must be. For one thing, she was on her own, and her expression made it very clear to him that she was utterly terrified. For another, she matched his brother’s description perfectly.
His first, scattered thought was that perhaps it might not be so bad to be married after all. He swallowed hard, a crooked grin sliding stupidly over his face. His bride-to-be was something of a looker. She was taller than average, which put the top of her head just below his nose. Her blonde hair was the color of winter sunlight, and her hazel eyes were full of warmth. She had high cheekbones, pale, porcelain skin and at the moment her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink.
Lawson inhaled sharply. She looked like a lamb lost in the wilderness. Her hazel eyes were wide and innocent, and she was making some inquiry of him. He wasn’t listening, his mind was too busy forming possibilities that never should have occurred to him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t…but…he had to. It was only right. He could not possibly allow her to stay here with him…could he?
Lawson opened his mouth, steeling himself to say the thing he had promised himself that he would tell her. He swallowed again, his throat suddenly tight. “Emmeline?”
Her eyes seemed to blur as they flashed to his face. She frowned. “Would you be Mr. Aldridge?” The hand not clutching her handbag reached out for the train car. She gripped the doorframe as though to steady herself.
“I would.”
Her face broke into a brilliant, genuine smile. “Thank goodness,” she whispered, more to herself than to him, it seemed. “Shall we be off to the church then?”
His eyebrows darted up his forehead, nearly disappearing in his dark hair. “N—now?” he stuttered, fighting back his shock. “Wouldn’t you like to—?”
“I would very much like to get settled in as soon as possible,” she interrupted him hurriedly. “Perhaps you can show me the schoolhouse on the way?”
Lawson felt as though his tongue had swollen to twice its usual size. He stared at her, numb with disbelief. He was going to tell her that he hadn’t sent for her. He was going to tell her to hop right back on that train and head for home. Instead, what he heard himself saying was: “All right. That sounds just fine. This way then, Miss Wiggs.”
They collected her luggage, then he held out his arm to her and they set off. Lawson was fighting to maintain his composure. Tell her. Tell her now, you fool. But he couldn’t do it. Something about Emmeline had robbed him temporarily of logical thought. Perhaps it was the way she was clinging to his arm, as though she thought she might stumble. Perhaps it was the tentative, unfocused smiles she continued to cast up at him, but he could not bring himself to refuse her.
Inwardly, he was cursing and spitting, fighting tooth and nail to break free from the situation, but outwardly, he was calm and collected, pointing out various features of the town to her as they passed them. “The pharmacy that I own is just there,” he said, and with a jolt, he realized that it would be rather wonderful to have a woman to help him about the place. The house he’d built two years previously was the second house down on the street adjacent to his shop. He indicated this with a nod of his head, but was confused when she did not seem to see it. He stopped. “It’s right there on the edge of those trees, behind the white house? You can see the roof and the front gate?”
“Ahh, of course. There it is. I cannot wait to see it up close,” but her tone was falsely cheerful, and this drew Lawson’s attention to her pretty hazel eyes. They were darting all around the things they passed without really focusing on any of them, and she seemed startled to realize they had arrived at the church within a few moments, even though the steeple was visible from the train depot.
“Here we are,” he said, tugging them both to a halt before the doors. “Listen, Miss Wiggs. Is there anything… I feel as though I ought to tell you…” But he broke off as the church doors opened and a man stepped out.
“Mr. Aldridge! What a pleasant surprise, and—who is your charming friend?”
“Pastor Fields,” Lawson smiled at the older gentleman and stepped forward, trying to cover his moment of awkwardness with Emmeline. “This is Emmeline Wiggs. She—ah—just arrived on the train a moment ago.”
“Indeed,” the pastor twinkled, smiling and taking Emmeline’s hand. “How do you do, Miss Wiggs?”
Emmeline’s eyes were staring at a point just over the pastor’s shoulder. “I am very well, sir.”
“What brings you to Buffalo Creek, my dear?”
Emmeline swallowed and glanced up at Lawson, as though waiting for him to explain the situation. “We’ve—” the words were stuck in his throat once more. Would you just tell her the truth?? “We’ve decided to be married,” he heard himself saying instead. The voice in his head was laughing at him.
The pastor’s fuzzy eyebrows—looking rather like two identical caterpillars—crawled up his forehead. “I see,” he said slowly. “One of those mail-order brides, are you, my dear? Well Lawson, I cannot say that I am surprised. It’s about time you settled down with a good woman.”
The rosy tinge in Emmeline’s cheeks was spreading into her hairline.
“I was just about to have some lunch,” added the pastor. “Why don’t the two of you join me. The missus always makes far too much food for just the pair of us.”
Lawson looked between Emmeline and the pastor. “You must be hungry,” he murmured. “Shall we?”
Her expression was more worried than Lawson supposed the situation called for, but she nodded, and the three of them set off together. The pastor lived in a tiny house just behind the church. He
held open a small gate and motioned them inside. Down a narrow alley between the church and the building beside it, they followed him, finally coming to rest at a wooden door that squawked as the pastor pushed it open.
Inside was a narrow hallway lined with paintings. Lawson placed a hand on the back of Emmeline’s dress to guide her attention to one in particular.
“Luella painted this on the day I moved to Buffalo Creek,” he said, smiling fondly. The painting featured two of his dogs sitting outside the post office building. He watched Emmeline’s expression carefully, waiting for her reaction, but again… the smile that came to her face appeared forced.
She bent near to examine the painting and then straightened. “It’s lovely,” she murmured. Lawson stared at her. What was going on?
A few steps ahead of them, the pastor was calling out to his wife. “Lue? Lue?! I’ve brought guests home for lunch!”
The pastor’s wife appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall. Lawson knew it led into the kitchen. She was an incredibly short woman with iron gray curls the texture of cotton wool. Her face had the same heavily-defined smile lines as her husband’s.
“Who is it this time?” she chortled fondly, taking the pastor’s coat and hanging it on a small hook by the back door. “Oh, Mister Aldridge! How lovely to see you! And—,” she paused, turning about and eyeing Emmeline’s guarded expression. “Might you introduce me to your companion?”
“Mister Aldridge brought his lovely fiancé to the church this afternoon,” the pastor supplied, winking over his wife’s head at the pair of them.
Lawson flushed for the first time as Luella’s eyes skated over him. “Your fiancé, Mister Aldridge?”
“Miss Wiggs only just arrived on the train,” he informed her, and then, without really knowing what made him say it, he heard himself say: “We’re hoping to be married as soon as Pastor Fields finishes his lunch.”
Emmeline’s unfocused gaze settled on him for the briefest of moments and Lawson’s heart sped. Are you really going to go through with this?
He’d gone utterly mad. Lost his mind. Are you really going to marry a woman you only just met?
But his thoughts were racing far ahead of him, dancing around the idea of a future he hadn’t ever realized he wanted until that moment. He could see himself coming home for lunch to a smiling woman, just as the pastor had. He pictured her kissing his cheek and taking his coat… The smell of something delicious simmering on the stove…
He glanced at Emmeline’s stoic expression. She was worrying her full lower lip between her teeth.
Could he make her happy? Could he chase away her fears? He would certainly try. There was an unexplainable sort of longing forming in his gut. He was remembering the way she had smiled at him when she had first met him just moments ago. A genuine, crystalline smile that had made her face seem as though it had been lit by sunshine from within. He wanted to make her smile like that every day… and he would… if she would allow it.
Luella was regarding him with a stern expression, but in a matter of moments, the older woman’s face broke into a dazzling grin. “A wedding?! How wonderful. Oh, James, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a wedding, hasn’t it?!” she beamed at her husband and clapped her hands together. “Should we make a special dinner? I’ll go visit Georgia and Felicity after lunch. We’ll get the rest of the ladies around and… Ohh! What a joy! Perhaps we’ll make a quick mention to Mrs. Brittler as well!”
“Now, Luella…” The pastor was grinning sheepishly, one hand scrubbing at the back of his neck in apparent embarrassment. “Perhaps Mister Aldridge is wanting a quieter sort of celebration? Don’t you imagine?”
Luella spun round and instead of approaching Lawson, slid past him to grip Emmeline’s hand. “Nonsense,” she whispered. “Every bride needs a proper wedding ceremony, don’t you agree Miss Wiggs?”
Lawson waited, his breath held, but he need not have worried. A moment later, Emmeline’s sunlit smile illuminated the kitchen. “I think that all sounds, lovely, Mrs. Fields. We truly would appreciate it.” She stepped forward and took Lawson’s arm. “That is, if Mister Aldridge has no objections?”
To Lawson’s own very great surprise, he could not bring to mind a single reason to protest. He nodded, grinning like the fool he was, and let the planning commence.
Chapter Three
Emmeline had never expected that her wedding the only pharmacist in a town as small as Buffalo Creek would go unnoticed, but she had not planned on the enthusiasm and gossip that the news would generate over the next few hours. By three o’ clock in the afternoon, she had spoken to—what felt like—every woman in town. They had introduced themselves, congratulated her, and showered her with gifts as well as advice.
“Felicity Darling,” said a thirty-something woman with brilliantly green eyes, holding out her hand to Emmeline. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve brought you the town’s recipe book from last year’s picnic. Now, I know it isn’t much, but Betty-Jean’s Applebar crumble is in there and mmmmhmm,” she made a smacking sound with her lips. “There is just nothing like it. Give it a go, will you?”
A shorter, young woman that had to be near Emmeline’s own age entered the pastor’s kitchen a few minutes after Felicity Darling departed. She was grinning, and twirling a strand of golden blonde hair around her fingers.
“Miss Noelle!” Luella Fields leapt to her feet, and after a moment, Emmeline stood up too, trying her hardest to bring the girl’s features into focus. She made out a blur of blue eyes and heard the swoosh of fine silk.
“Is it true?”
Emmeline grinned sheepishly, not knowing who the girl was but starting to suspect…
“Are you truly from New York? You’re from Madame Wigg’s Foundling Home?” The girl called Noelle took a step nearer, and Emmeline was able to make out a sweet, cheerful sort of face. The sound of her voice had been deceiving. Emmeline realized that the girl was a few years her senior as she gazed at her.
“Yes. I was a teacher there.”
“My family went to the charity event held at the Celestine Ballroom every year,” Noelle murmured. She sat down at the table without invitation and indicated that Emmeline should do the same. “Madame Wigg’s Foundling Home was one of our favorites. My father was always impressed with their practices.”
Emmeline grinned. “Your father would not happen to be Mr. Thomas Brittler, would it?”
Noelle nodded, and Emmeline’s grin widened. “So it is true. The Brittlers are all hiding from society in the wilds of the untamed West!”
All three women in the kitchen snorted with laughter. Mrs. Fields turned back to the pot on the stove as it hissed loudly.
Noelle said, through a chuckle, “Is that what they said about us back home?”
Emmeline nodded. “It was all in the society papers. Quite the scandal.”
Noelle shook her head. “I imagine it was something of a shock.” She fixed Emmeline with an open, friendly look. “Why have you come here?”
Emmeline felt a sudden kinship with the woman. Before she knew what she was saying, information was spilling out of her mouth. “Wiggie… I mean, Madame Wigg, she has offered each of the women that teach at the school a grant, so that we each may start our own schools. She wants to bring culture to places that don’t have access to education, and spread her ideals that all children deserve to be taught.”
Noelle smiled. “I never met Madame Wigg, but she always seemed like the sort of woman that would be difficult to dissuade once she had set her mind to something.”
“I’ve never met another woman like her,” Emmeline laughed. “Very determined.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Noelle rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “My sister, Dianna, could likely give her a run for her money.”
Emmeline looked up at the sound of the name. “That would be your eldest sister, correct?” She did not want to pry, but she was burning with a blazing curiosity. Noelle seemed to interpret Emmeline’s expre
ssion correctly.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she said warily. “But we are not ashamed of my sister’s choice of husband. We did not run from society because of it… Shiye was intending on staying in Manhattan, actually. My father was going to find him work, but then… this!” She grinned. “This was so much better. There is so much space out here. Kenneth loves it. It’s so much better for our children and Little Rose… she’s so much happier here.”
Emmeline was lost. Noelle was speaking as though anyone that came from Manhattan or the surrounding areas should know her family tree back to front, but Emmeline had hardly ever read the society papers. “I’m sorry. Who is Rose? I take it Shiye is your sister’s husband? The one… the Indian??” she said the word carefully, hoping not to offend.
Noelle stared at her, then she smiled. “Yes,” she murmured. “Shiye is Dianna’s husband. He saved her life when she traveled to Wyoming several years ago now. They fell in love, believe it or not. He’s a good man. Little Rose is their daughter.”
Realization crashed on to the top of Emmeline’s head. “Oh,” was all she said. Noelle’s gaze was fixed on her face, and Emmeline could tell she was watching her reaction carefully. At the stove, Luella Fields was determinedly stirring her pot, but Emmeline knew she was absorbing every word the women were exchanging. A myriad of emotions flitted through her mind at the confirmation that Noelle’s sister had—indeed—married a savage of sorts, but she quite liked Noelle. She wondered, even, if they might become friends in good time. “Marrying for love is…” she sighed and looked down at the cup of cold tea in her hands. “I suppose it is every woman’s dream, is it not?”
There was a sudden clatter and Mrs. Fields tottered over from beside the stove. Emmeline tensed as the woman took hold of her shoulder. “Now, listen here, dear,” Emmeline gazed up into her lined face as the older woman peered kindly down at her. “I’ve known Mister Aldridge for a good few years now.” She smiled and gave Emmeline’s shoulder a little shake. “Even if your marriage is beginning in a… slightly less-traditional way… there isn’t a soul in Buffalo Creek that would tell you different than this. Lawson is a good man. Truly. One of the good ones. He would make any woman a fine husband. Don’t you fret.”
Emmeline's Exile (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 5) Page 2
