Brides of Noelle

by Kit Morgan

  “Me? Oh, well, I’m a Missouri boy at heart, born and raised in St. Louis. Educated there too – Washington University.”

  “My, you are an educated man.”

  “Begging your pardon, Miss Partridge, but a formal education doesn’t always make a man smart. Mayor Hardt has no diplomas on his wall, but I tell you, that man’s as smart as they come!”

  “So you’ve said. What did you study?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that. I graduated with a divinity degree, if that’s what you mean.” He took another sip of coffee, his eyes bright over the rim of the cup. She liked those eyes. In fact, she was beginning to like him – he was very personable. She could tell he valued his friendship with the mayor, despite her betrothed nearly throttling him earlier.

  Yes, about that … “Have the two of you been friends long?”

  “Oh yes, best of friends.”

  “I see. Do you always strangle each other?”

  He choked on his coffee, beating his chest a few times with his fist. “Charlie and me? Cough, cough, cough. That was … gasp … not what it appeared.”

  “It appeared as if he was trying to kill you.”

  He waved a dismissive hand at her, his face red. “He was just … trying to make a point.”

  His eyes were watering, and she wondered if she should give him her handkerchief.

  “Do you think he wants to marry me?”

  He sputtered a few more times before looking her in the eye. “He … of course he … cough, cough.”

  Felicity pulled out her handkerchief and offered it to him, but he waved it off and pulled out his own. He coughed into it a few times, wiped at his eyes and put it back. “Charlie was just taken by surprise at your arrival. He sometimes gets dates mixed up.” He quickly turned away, but not far enough for her to miss him rolling his eyes. Something was going on here – if she didn’t know better, she’d say that the dear reverend was fibbing.

  Rev. Hammond finally managed to stop coughing. “Miss Partridge, Charlie isn’t the only one that was caught unprepared. As you’ve no doubt witnessed, I wasn’t as ready as I should have been for your arrival. I’ve made a mess of things, and I need to get everything sorted out so that we can proceed.”

  “Are you referring to our accommodations?” she asked with a smile. “Or that the town is not like you described in your letters?”

  “About that … I tried to explain to your lovely Mrs. Walters that I wrote my first letter in August. It’s beautiful here in the summertime – the air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and evergreens. There’s a meadow not far from town, out past Woody Burnside’s place, that’s a wonderful spot. I like to go there to think. There’s grass and flowers, a bubbling brook …”

  “It sounds lovely,” she said, her voice soft. “Though I would imagine it’s still beautiful even covered with snow.”

  “Yes, it is. But come spring I’ll take y … I mean, Charlie can take you there.”

  “I’d like that.” Felicity glanced around the near-empty saloon. When she’d arrived there were quite a few men in attendance, most of them waiting to speak with the reverend, but they’d dispersed when she came in asking after him. Just as well – she already felt foolish due to the heated discussion between her betrothed and the Rev. Hammond. Speaking of which … “Where is he?”

  Rev. Hammond started in his chair. “Oh, um … Charlie is a very busy man, you know. Right now he’s probably up at his mine.”

  “His mine?”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “He’s been pretty busy up there – today was the first time I’d seen him in weeks. Probably explains why when he saw you, he was confused …” He slumped a little in his chair.

  “I see – that makes some sense of things. Are you tired too?”

  “Weary,” he said after a moment. “Which brings me to what I started to say earlier. Miss Partridge, while we’re waiting for Charlie to return, would you mind helping me?”

  Her mouth opened in surprise. “With what?”

  He leaned toward her. “As I said before, I know I’ve made a hash of things. I need your help to fix this. And I want to make things right with you, with Mrs. Walters and the rest of the brides.”

  She swallowed, her breathing picking up. If she helped the reverend, she could maybe question the other grooms about Mayor Hardt. She could also make sure Mrs. Walters didn’t pack she and the other brides up and take them straight back to Denver. This was her big chance to further the cause of women everywhere. She had to marry the mayor. And who knew – in five years or so he could be in the state legislature. In another five, Governor or a senator! And dare she think it …

  “Miss Partridge?”

  She jumped in her chair. “Yes! Yes, I will.”

  “You will?” he said with some surprise. “Why, that’s wonderful.”

  “When would you like to start?” she asked, her voice just as bright.

  “Would after we finish our coffee be too soon?”

  She laughed, unsure if he was joking. But what did it matter? The sooner they started, the sooner she’d find out more about her betrothed – and make sure she married him.

  * * *

  What luck! Chase thought. Felicity Partridge had agreed to help him. Now he could not only continue to convince her how worthy Charlie was, but also ensure that all the grooms and their prospective brides would marry in a timely manner. Preferably the next day.

  But he had a gut feeling things weren’t going to get straightened out by sunrise. Tomorrow was Christmas, and he had to get word to the men to woo their brides as much as they could. Otherwise, Mrs. Walters might return them all to Denver as soon as the pass was clear. He couldn’t let that happen. None of the men could. It would be the end of Noelle.

  All right, then – whom should he speak to first? Which couples were already on their way to matrimony? Drat, he’d been so busy trying to placate Mrs. Walters, he hadn’t paid attention to the interactions between the brides and grooms. At least some of the men had met their brides while Sheriff Draven escorted Madame Bonheur and her girls to an alternate place of business – something the dear Madame was less than happy about, he recalled as he rubbed his knee. That woman had a swing like a blacksmith.

  But a slight limp was the least of his worries. He needed to get those men married and fast. Thank Heaven Percy hadn’t heard yet about his latest debacle, let alone Charlie’s reaction when the brides first arrived. Percy didn’t frequent the saloon – when he wasn’t working at the land office, he had his nose in some huge book about insects or worms.

  After asking Miss Partridge to wait for him while he ran upstairs to get supplies, Chase showed her to his “office” – a corner table at one end of the saloon. “Here’s my list of grooms and the brides I matched them with,” he told her.

  She peered at the list in curiosity, noting the descriptions under each bride’s name and blushing furiously.

  “Something wrong?” he asked as her ears turned pink. He thought it made her look even more delicate than she already did. Her skin was porcelain-smooth, her blue eyes bright and rimmed with dark lashes. And her mouth … good grief, what was he doing? This was Charlie’s bride!

  She sat back in her chair with a jerk, as if he’d just caught her with her hand in the collection box. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “If you’re sure …”

  She nodded.

  “Then may I ask about Miss Zapatero?”

  “Josefina?”

  “Yes. She wants to get married, doesn’t she? I can marry her and her groom tomorrow if she likes.”

  She sat, her pretty brow furrowed in thought. “I couldn’t say what she wants. Even though I know her better than a lot of the other brides, I really don’t know much about her, other than she’s protective of us.” The word protective seemed weighted with extra meaning.

  “But the two of you went into the parlor together after Sam Goodwin came down the stairs … so I thought maybe you w
ere friends.”

  “I want to be her friend, I like her. But we’re still acquaintances at this point.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ve got to make sure some of these couples marry tomorrow, Miss Partridge. Which of the brides are most open at this point?”

  She tapped her fingers on the table too, until they both caught what they were doing and stopped. “You must understand, Reverend, we were in a state of shock when we first arrived.”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What do you know of the other brides? Other than one carries a goose under her cloak.”

  She laughed at the mention of Daniel, her face suddenly merry, the tired creases around her eyes lessening. “Dear sweet Daniel. I hope her groom likes animals.”

  Chase smiled lopsidedly. Storm Thornton didn’t seem too happy about getting married, and while he did like animals, it was usually on a plate next to the mashed potatoes. Best to put him and Molly at the end of the list and get the easy ones wed first. “Back to Miss Zapatero. Shall I mark her and her groom down for tomorrow?”

  “I’m sorry, Reverend, but I really couldn’t say. What I can tell you is that a lot of the women are siding with Mrs. Walters. They’re upset, and I strongly advise you to speak with the men about doing what they can to convince them to stay.”

  Chase stilled, holding his breath. That was bad – some of the men were liable to throw their hands up in disgust and walk away from the whole thing. They’d all been so excited when he presented the idea months ago, but if it became a headache they could still bolt. And if they did, the town …

  “I do know, however,” she went on, noting his look of dismay, “that some of the brides genuinely want to get married.”

  He sighed in relief – at least he could start there. “Which ones?”

  She took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say was unpleasant. “Maybelle Anderson, for one. It’s all she talked about the entire journey.”

  “I would think matrimony to be the main topic of conversation in a train car full of mail-order brides.”

  She laughed again, and he noticed the dimple on her left cheek. How delightful. “Might I suggest, Reverend, that we let Mrs. Walters and the others sleep on it tonight? I’m sure tomorrow morning they’ll be in much better moods. Perhaps their grooms could call on them after breakfast?”

  He chewed his bottom lip a moment. “Normally, I’d say no – these are businessmen, a rancher, miners. But tomorrow being Christmas, they won’t be working any more than they have to.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. “I’m positive I’ll be marrying one of them tomorrow. He owns the local newspaper – he’ll want to get married so he can write all about it.”

  She giggled. “My, my – I can’t wait to read that bit of news.”

  Chase chuckled again. “You know, I can’t either. Horatio does have a way with words, especially when they’re about him. I just hope he has a few other weddings to write about.”

  She surprised him by reaching across the table and putting her hand over his. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have more than one wedding to perform on Christmas.” She let go and sat back with a heavy sigh. “I only hope one of them is mine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Chase’s skin burned. He stared at his hand where Miss Partridge had touched it – so soft and warm. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel a woman’s touch – not just a touch, but a heartfelt gesture, nurturing, gentle, compassionate. If women were capable of doing that with one gesture, what man wouldn’t get married that minute?

  “How can I help?” Felicity asked.

  He looked into her deep blue eyes. Charlie was one lucky fellow. “Maybe if the brides knew more about the town, they’d feel better about getting married.”

  She looked skeptical. “Remember, Reverend, it’s the town that’s making them hesitate to get married at all.”

  “Yes, well … maybe if they knew where the church would be, not to mention the schoolhouse.”

  “Schoolhouse?”

  “Of course. All those children the brides and grooms have?” he said, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

  “Ohhhh, those children.” She smiled. “You’ve thought of everything to make the town look good, haven’t you?”

  Chase sighed. “Miss Partridge, bringing you and the other brides to Noelle was on my initiative.” Sure it was his idea – but he was through with lying – but wasn’t sure he could keep Percy from claiming it was his idea and his alone, thus discrediting him further. “I want this town to become something, the type of place I know it can. But it can’t do that without womenfolk.”

  “It seems to have gotten along fine without us until now,” she said matter-of-factly. “What’s the difference?”

  Okay, fine – he’d tell her, and the Devil take the hindmost. “The difference is that the railroad will come if the town is respectable enough. If the railroad doesn’t come …” He cleared his throat. “… then this town dies. Noelle will become a ghost town.” He rested his forearms on the table and leaned toward her. “Miss Partridge, this is a beautiful place, perfect for starting a family –”

  “– once it’s respectable,” she finished for him.

  Chase rubbed his tired eyes. “Help me out here, Miss Partridge. I’m doing my best to be completely honest with you.”

  “I understand. But it’s important to me to see that you are honest. Mrs. Walters seems to think you tried to pull the wool over her eyes.”

  “It’s like I told you – when I wrote that first letter it was beautiful here. Who wouldn’t want to raise their child in a place like this? A growing town pioneered by folks who believe in it? And … I know now that I was writing as much about what I see the town becoming as what the town is now. My fault – and I’m sorry for that.”

  She half-smiled. “So what is the town now?”

  “It’s a mining town. There’s a big difference between that and something respectable.”

  Now her smile was a cynical smirk. “Such as housing mail-order brides in a brothel?”

  She had him there. “Alas, it’s the nicest place in town.” She was being very lighthearted about the matter, he had to give her that. At least she wasn’t biting his head off.

  “How else do you envision Noelle, Rev. Hammond?”

  He sighed deeply and sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “I envision Noelle as a safe haven. A place folks can come and know they can settle down. Sure, it will have its challenges – every town does. But to be able to make it something … sort of like building a house with your own two hands …”

  “I thought preachers were more concerned with building the house of God, not a town,” she pointed out.

  “Preachers have to be concerned with people’s minds and bodies, Miss Partridge, not just their souls.” He sighed again. “Community, Miss Partridge – I’m talking about community. Neighbor helping neighbor, that sort of thing. Something quite different from a mining town, which is only about what can be dug from the ground. Which dries up and blows away once the mines are empty.”

  She watched him a moment with those wonderful blue eyes of hers, her head cocked. “You really do love this place, don’t you?”

  Chase smiled. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

  She studied him some more. “You’ve already shown you’re not a good liar.”

  Chase rolled his eyes – at himself. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  “I would imagine it difficult for man of God to lie convincingly.” Her hand touched his again. “Reverend, it seems I owe you an apology.”

  “Me?” he said in shock. “Whatever for?”

  “Clearly the mayor isn’t the only man in town with high ideals,” she said. “I can see in your eyes that your dream for Noelle is genuine. You love this place, you truly do.”

  “Yes, I do. Why do you think I’ve gone through all this trouble to bring you and your friends here?”

  She removed her ha
nd, suddenly realizing where it still rested. “A man of vision. I like that.”

  Chase felt himself blush. Good grief, he hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Thank you.”

  She smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. I can see now that everything in your letters was truly heartfelt, even when it wasn’t quite … accurate to the present day. I’ll explain to Mrs. Walters if you like.”

  “Very much. But wouldn’t it be better to show her?”

  “I suppose. Why don’t I tell her what you’ve told me? Then you can show her where you plan to build the church and the schoolhouse. Tell her about the meadow that you’ll show… I mean, that Mayor Hardt will show me in the spring.” She folded her hands on the table and stared at them a moment.

  “And the other brides – what shall we tell them?”

  “I think they should hear it from their grooms, don’t you? Maybe you could talk to the men tomorrow about it. That would give them a topic of conversation with their brides.”

  He watched her a moment. There was sadness in her eyes, and part of him wanted to tell her everything. But he didn’t want to hurt her – or rather, see Charlie hurt her. But that was as much his fault as the mayor’s. He drew the straw for Charlie. He didn’t tell Charlie about it. “He needs time to come around,” he said, but really he was trying to convince himself.

  Miss Partridge gazed into his eyes. “Will he? And even if he does, how long will it take?”

  Chase tried not to fidget. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day, but I’ll try to talk to him. How’s that?”

  “Thank you, Reverend,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much.”

  Chase’s own smile was weak at best. If he didn’t tell her what happened, Charlie would – and how would Charlie deliver the news? Perhaps it was best Chase told her.

  “It’s getting late,” she pointed out. “I really should be getting back. I’ll speak to Mrs. Walters and the other brides tonight for you.”

  He nodded with a relieved smile. “Thank you. I think between the two of us we can make a difference, Miss Partridge.”