"Go ahead. Cullen will help us," his father called back.
"Let's go then." Fergus held out his elbow to Iris. "Boardwalks are slick so we need to be careful, but it's not very far to the hotel."
Talk and laughter echoed in the cold as people slowly moved down the walk towards the hotel. The night was now clear with a multitude of stars shining in the sky.
"What did you tell your parents about me, Fergus?" Iris quietly asked.
"I never lie to them so I told the truth."
Iris pulled back his arm, stopping them in their tracks. "That I tried to kill myself?"
"I described your situation and that I offered you a job in my photography studio."
Iris felt mortified. His parents knew about her past. What must they think of her now?
"They've helped countless people through their ministry work, so they are never surprised by what people have had to face." Fergus tugged her arm so she started walking again.
Iris cringed. "I should just—"
"Don't you dare hint at something like that again. You had hard times but they are past you now that you're in Clear Creek."
Fergus didn't understand how sad, despondent, and overwhelmed she felt. It wasn't as if she could turn off the thoughts in her head.
"Here we are. Please drink something hot and eat something. I'm sure you'll feel better."
Fergus was home among family and friends on a happy occasion. She was a stranger still not sure what to do about her situation. But then she didn't want to hurt Fergus by disappointing him either. He'd taken care of her when she was at the lowest point in her life.
***
Fergus proceeded to introduce his siblings to Iris until he came to Daisy.
“Daisy, I’m so glad you finally roped Angus into marrying you.” He gave their childhood friend a long embracing hug. She’d been a tomboy and a part of the Reagan boys’ gang for as long as he could remember.
Daisy laughed as Fergus released her. “Actually, a rope was involved in getting Angus and me back together when we were on the train. But we’ve always been best of friends. It just took a few years for us to find our way back to Clear Creek and each other.”
Daisy held out her hand to greet Iris, and Iris timidly took it. But instead of shaking her hand and letting go, Daisy pulled Iris to her side. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out you’re in good hands with Fergus. Now add the protection of his brothers and you don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Especially since Iris will be staying with Pastor and me.” Ma concluded the conversation.
The tension Fergus had carried for the past weeks eased as he listened to his family around him. This was the right place to bring Iris.
Nolan and Holly Clancy put Iris the most at ease. Holly was quiet, like Iris, and seemed to sense her uneasiness about her heritage.
“Please come over for a visit with me, Iris. Between my swollen belly and feet, I’m sitting around a lot right now, needing someone to talk to…besides Nolan’s grandparents. They are so sweet, but I’d love to talk to someone my own age.”
“When Fergus doesn’t need me in the studio, I’d love to.”
“Do you happen to play a musical instrument? I’d love to find people I can play with.”
“I enjoyed hearing you play your violin this evening. Actually, I can play the piano. Do you have one in your home?”
“No, but we can go over to the church to play together.”
“I didn’t know you could play,” Fergus couldn’t help adding to the conversation.
Iris blushed, embarrassed it hadn’t come up in their conversations on their trip home, or that she was a mulatto who learned how to play?
“Well, be prepared to play in church with me in the future. I’m shy about playing in front of people, but, as you learn to know Pastor and Kaitlyn, you’ll find they’ll support you…and talk you into participating, whether you first want to or not.” Holly grinned, her dark brown eyes twinkling with knowing what his mother was capable of doing.
The weight of Mack’s arm across his shoulders caused Fergus to look up to his brother.
“Your place is ready to move into. I’ve had the stove on for the past two days expecting you, so the apartment is warm.
“Furniture you ordered is in place, and Ma’s already put sheets on your bed, ready for you to crawl in. Don’t be surprised if she wants to ‘tuck you in bed’ tonight since she’s been worrying about you not showing up on time.”
“Thanks for taking care of all of this. We planned to be home sooner, but we stopped at a homestead where the wife and infant had just died. We stayed to help with the burial and give the husband and children some help.”
Mack hung his head, knowing the tragedy he’d faced. As the children of a pastor, they knew how to support a family in need.
“Did you give Pa’s burial service?”
“Of course. We all know it by heart,” Fergus shrugged his shoulders.
“Iris, Fergus is a good man. You had better drag him to the altar as soon as you can. And any of us brothers could perform the wedding vows if Pa’s not available.”
Both his and Iris’ faces were beet red after Mack’s jovial remark. Probably because he was attracted to Iris and could see them together in the future. Did she think the same thing, or just as a way to get out of a bad situation?
“Uh, don’t mind my brother’s talk, Iris. And I had better warn you about Tully too. They are wonderful brothers, but they can be pranksters, loud talkers, and downright mischievous devils at times.”
“You talking about me?” Tully walked up to them, holding at least his third plate of food.
“There is a reason Tully is living with Seth out on the Straight Arrow Ranch right now.” Fergus turned to Iris to explain. “If there was any trouble in town, everybody knew to point to the youngest preacher’s kid.”
“Hey, it was always just fun pranks. Who knew the chicken would fly off the schoolhouse roof and drop an egg midair on Mrs. Taylor’s head?”
“And why were there chickens on top of the schoolhouse to begin with?”
“Must have decided it was good place to roost for the night,” Tully grinned widely before stuffing half a sandwich in his mouth.
Fergus turned to Seth. “So have you gotten Tully on the ‘straight and narrow’ path yet?”
“No. Just because the ranch’s name seems like it should be the best place for him to be. He’s good at breaking green horses though. Loose in the saddle and talking the whole time to the horse. The bronco finally quits bucking to see if he’ll shut up.”
Fergus glanced over to Iris to see her reaction to his brothers. She was grinning, apparently delighted with their banter and finally at ease with them. Too bad Iris hadn’t had this kind of relationship with her brothers.
“Iris, are you ready to come home with us? You must be exhausted from your trip in this weather.”
Fergus noticed his mother said, “come home” as if it was the most natural thing to ask of Iris as she wrapped an arm about the younger woman’s shoulders.
Iris quickly glanced at him, needing his direction or assurance. They had not been parted since she jumped from the train.
“That’s a good idea, Ma. I’m ready to enjoy the bed in my new home too.”
“You’re welcome to stay in your old room in the parsonage, at least tonight. Please, son?”
Fergus glanced at the two women. Was his mother sensing Iris wasn’t ready to be away from her protector yet? Iris’s eyes seemed almost desperate to connect with his, begging him to stay with her.
But then he’d be across the hall from Iris, and not able to sleep well because of it. Why? Because he’d been sleeping on the floor beside Iris in the wagon’s bed, and might feel compelled to sleep near her tonight too. It wasn’t the thing to do in his parent’s home since he and Iris weren’t wed.
“All right.” Fergus couldn’t help cave into these women’s wishes. They were both important people to him
.
Chapter 9
Iris sat in the workroom of the studio, realizing this was the first time she'd been alone in over a month since she left Kentucky. Morris had been continuously at her side until she jumped from the train, and then she'd had Fergus, his family or friends with her instead.
And now she could finally say she felt safe and content.
This last week had been a busy whirlwind of unpacking since they drove the sleigh back to the Bar E Ranch and retrieved the photography wagon.
Iris had enjoyed seeing the route across the snow-covered prairie in the daylight, marveling at the difference between Kansas' treeless prairies compared to Kentucky's topography. Fergus pointed out more ranches and homesteads of people she'd meet this Sunday in church if the weather were nice for their trip into town. Sounded like several families were related to Dagmar Hamner, the tall Swede she’d met at the Bar E Ranch, or Marshal Wilerson here in Clear Creek…or maybe brothers had married sisters? She was meeting new people every day and felt comfortable with the story Mrs. Reagan had concocted for how Iris had met Fergus.
The pastor's wife was good at spinning a story, never quite lying though. Iris smiled the first time the woman had introduced Iris to the storekeeper, Mrs. Taylor.
"When Fergus met Iris, an artist from Kentucky—in between employment in Nebraska—he immediately asked her to be his assistant in his photography studio. Her artistic touch with oil painting brings Fergus' black and white photographs to life."
Kaitlyn worked in where Iris was from, where she and Fergus met, and why she was working for Fergus in two sentences. And no one questioned the pastor's wife, so Iris shook people's extended hands, smiled, and murmured a greeting back to the person.
Only the Reagan family and their close friends knew of how and why Iris was with Fergus, and she was happy to keep it that way. She was finally feeling like her connection to the Kerns Plantation and Morris was a bad memory, being erased in this quaint and friendly frontier town.
Mack had built three separate rooms in the downstairs studio. The front room, with large plate glass front windows was where photographs were taken. Fergus had bought an eight by ten feet painted canvas backdrop that he and Mack hung on the back wall.
Iris suggested she could add touches to the mural of columns in the future, but in the meantime there were two wicker chairs, and three wooden stools at different heights that people could sit on to pose for the photographs. In the future Iris would like to add a potted fern on a stand as an accessory, and a rocking horse for children to sit on.
The corner of the large room also had a wooden desk and swivel chair, with two wooden chairs opposite the desk, so she and the customers could sit down while she recorded information for the photograph session.
Behind the studio was the workroom with tables and shelves for their supplies. In the coming weeks, Iris would spend most of her time matching the dozens of glass plates to develop with the logbook Fergus wrote on his trip.
Fergus developed the plates in the third small room connected to the workroom, that served as the darkroom. Iris had worked with him only once so far in the darkroom, enjoying the intimate space and red light glowing from the Kodak-glass darkroom lantern. It was fascinating to watch the image of people showing up on the paper as it developed.
She caught herself daydreaming, already thinking of the future with Fergus here in the studio, and maybe as his wife upstairs? Iris blushed at the thought but she was most definitely attracted to the quiet, kind man—as well as his family.
After growing up in a huge house, being a combination of household servant and shunned daughter, she craved the closeness the Reagan family had. Iris had not been without want of material things. She cleaned the house as a servant, but was given time off for piano and art lessons. Her clothes were fitted for the current fashion, worn when she was out trailing behind her family, in hopes a man might take her off her family's hands. She lived and worked in the house, but was prepared for marriage or as a man’s concubine.
The bell attached above the front door dinged as someone pushed the door open and walked in.
"Hello?" A woman's voice echoed after she shut the door.
"I'm coming," Iris called as she smoothed down the skirt of her dark green dress and straightened her posture. She was representing the Reagan Studio and wanted to look professional.
"Hello. May I help you?" Iris asked cheerfully as she walked into the front room to see a middle-aged man and woman standing near the door.
"Are you Miss Kerns?" The southern drawl in the accusing woman's voice make the hair on Iris' neck stand up out of wariness.
"Yes. May I help you?" Iris asked a second time, more to the point this time.
"Miss Iris Kerns from the Kerns Plantation in Louisville, Kentucky?" The woman's right eyebrow slid up the same time as a smirk surfaced after her words.
Dread filled Iris' chest. This woman knew who Iris was and looked happy to reveal something vindictive about her.
"We recently moved here from Louisville. My husband is the new barber in town. My sister mails me articles for The Louisville Times so I can keep up with news from home. One of the articles that caught my attention in today's mail was the announcement that the daughter of the late Master Ruddell Kerns was to marry Milton Morris and then leave on their honeymoon trip to San Francisco. This event happened about a month ago."
Did Iris meet this woman in church? Otherwise, how would she know who she was? Anyway, she was going to ruin Iris' reputation without any real facts or care in the world.
“We lived in Louisville for years and I don’t remember Master Kerns having a daughter, except for the illegitimate child he had with a slave woman.”
"Mr. and Mrs. Tolbert. Welcome to my new photography studio. Did you want to schedule a family portrait? Or one in front of your new barbershop?" Fergus must have slipped in the back door of the building and heard the woman questioning her.
Iris sensed Fergus presence with relief. Luckily, he knew all about Milton Morris so this Mrs. Tolbert couldn't spring anything new on him.
"Um. No."
"Why not? I'd love to capture the images of you two and your dear children." Iris looked at Fergus trying to figure out his syrupy words to the negative woman.
Oh yes, they had two bratty children. Both thought they were above the other children to play together with them after church.
Mrs. Tolbert took a big breath before bursting out, "Mr. Reagan, do you know this woman is an illegitimate mulatto? And she's run away from her husband?"
Iris cringed at the woman's vile words and accusations. Iris wanted to run into the darkroom and never come out.
"Mrs. Tolbert." Fergus sternly ground out the woman's name to get her attention. "I never want to hear you use those words to describe my assistant again."
"But—"
"Mr. Tolbert, please take your wife out of my business if she's going to be rude to my employee."
"Well, why is she here in Kansas when the newspaper said she was married and on her way to San Francisco?" Mrs. Tolbert was still sniffing for answers.
"Plans change, Mrs. Tolbert, and I strongly suggest you never utter a bad word about Miss Kerns again."
"But she's a—"
"Single woman, now living and working in Clear Creek, Kansas." Fergus glared at the older woman. "Mr. Tolbert? I believe you and your wife were leaving?"
Iris had never seen Fergus mad, but he was apparently furious that he had to rationalize Iris being in his studio to other townspeople.
Iris fled to the workroom, not able to stand the accusations in the Tolbert's eyes or the pitying in Fergus'. She waited to hear the bell's announcement that the Tolberts had left before turning around, knowing Fergus was standing in the room close by her.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Tolbert attacked you, Iris. She's had a chip on her shoulder since arriving in town."
Iris kept her arms wrapped around her middle, unable to turn toward Fergus for fear he'd see her shame.
"I know why you left Morris, and I don't blame you. The bruises told me the story of your time together even if you didn't spell out the details. But..."
"No, I told you the truth. I didn't marry Morris in Kentucky. I wouldn't even 'jump the broomstick' with the man much to my brother's dismay." Iris shivered remembering the preacher arriving at the plantation with Morris, her brother setting up the "exchange" without her knowing it.
"Why was the announcement in the newspaper? I thought you said you were an 'exchange' for a debt." Iris turned to answer his questions. Fergus looked confused but not angry with her. Would he understand?
"My brother put the announcement in the paper to force Morris to accept me instead of money." Iris waved her hands trying to explain it. "You know if you see it in print, it's supposed to be true, just as Mrs. Tolbert insisted."
"But why didn't Morris insist on the wedding before you left then?"
"When I balked, he thought he could convince me on the trip to marry him before we reached our honeymoon destination."
Iris tightened her posture when Fergus placed his hands on her shoulders, but then relaxed, knowing Fergus was giving her comfort.
"I'm guessing the Tolberts knew about the Kerns Plantation. Was it a big place?"
"One of the biggest in the area. I told you about the plantation's horses being in the Kentucky Derby, so my father and brother were well known in the circuit."
Fergus turned her to face him, and then motioned for them to sit down on the chairs by the worktable. He rubbed his right hand over his mouth, a trait Iris noticed he did when he was worried.
"I hate to bring this up, but since Morris was looking for you in Nebraska, I'm guessing he doesn't want to go on to San Francisco or back to Louisville without you." Fergus serious stare and words unnerved her. She hadn't thought Morris would keep looking for her once she was out of Nebraska.
"How could he find me here though?" Iris wanted Fergus to assure her it wasn't possible Morris would find her in Clear Creek. She really liked living with the Reagans and everyone had been so friendly, at least until the Tolberts today.
"He could say you stole something from him—money most likely—so a wanted poster could be sent out, along with telegrams to the lawmen in Nebraska and the surrounding states. Would he think you'd travel back to Kentucky?"
Grooms with Honor Series, Books 1-3 Page 21