Brides of Noelle

by Kit Morgan

  “Yeah, Sonny boy?”

  “Barbershop’s closed and I could really use a bath.”

  Jasper’s eyes lit up. “I know just the place!”

  “Just the bath. How much does the madam charge for one?”

  “Heck, I don’t know. I always get the tub with all the trimmings.”

  “I don’t want the trimmings, whomever they may be. I just want a bath,” Walker said flatly.

  Jasper scratched at his chest. “Hmm, I could do with a hot soak myself.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea in your condition.” He also didn’t think Jasper in the brothel, sick as he was, was a good idea either. They’d take his money anyway they could. More if he was too sick to notice. Wait a minute. Jasper didn’t have any money. “I only have money for hot water in a tub. Nothing else.”

  Jasper’s face fell. “Ah, shucks. You’re no fun, Walker John.”

  “No, I’m sensible. Now, how much it would be?” He hoped he had enough money.

  “Honest, Walker John. I don’t know what Miss Felice would charge for just a bath. But it sure as heck won’t be the same as the barbershop. In fact, I expect she’ll want triple. What do ya want a bath for anyway?”

  “Because believe it or not, Jasper, I like being clean. Besides, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do when one meets with a lady.”

  Jasper cackled. “I like the bath special. Comes with two of the ladies if they got the time.” He winked and cackled some more.

  Walker was surprised he didn’t fall into a coughing fit. Good. In a few days he should be able to go back to work. He needed to teach Jasper how to be better with his money. If he was getting fifteen percent of Miss Dolittle’s investment, Jasper would be quick to help Walker fritter it away.

  Walker stilled. Good heavens, had he made up his mind? No, not consciously. He was going to tell the woman no and that her harebrained idea would bring her nothing but trouble. Besides which, the reverend and the mayor would never go for it. Walker reached under his cot’s tick mattress and pulled out an envelope.

  “What’s that?” Jasper asked.

  “Never you mind.”

  “Is that where you been hiding your cash?” Jasper asked as if insulted.

  “You hide yours. Everyone does.”

  “Sure. But no one’s fool enough to hide it under a mattress. Land sakes boy, that’s the first place a thief would look!”

  “And the last place you would,” Walker said with a laugh. He closed the distance between them and slapped Jasper on the back. “I’m gonna get me that bath. See you later.”

  “Don’t catch cold coming back to camp. Besides, why not take a bath here?”

  “Because I can get one quicker there. That and I’d much rather take a bath in a warm kitchen than someplace I know I’d catch cold.”

  Jasper couldn’t argue with that and nodded instead. “Ask the girls if they miss me, will ya?”

  Walker glanced over his shoulder as he was leaving. “I’ll try to remember,” he said with a smile and left.

  Chapter Nine

  “And you should’ve seen the look on my father’s face when I told him who Clint was,” Ophelia said with a laugh. It was late afternoon and they were visiting in Daphne’s room. After her tea with Ophelia and Felicity earlier that morning, she spent the rest of the day making lists of the pros and cons of her plan. No matter how she looked at it, she kept coming back to the same spot. She wanted to travel, see the world, and the only way to do it, was with the income from her investment in Noelle’s silver mine – minus fifteen percent of course.

  But could she do it? Could she be so selfish? Wasn’t there another way? She supposed there was, but hadn’t a clue as to what it might be. So, she’d opt for the easier route. The silver mine. “I’m sorry, Ophelia, what did you say?”

  “My father? I introduced Clint to him and when he found out he was a Wells Fargo employee, he looked about to bust a gut. My father’s rather high up in the bank, you see.”

  Daphne sighed. “Yes, I do see.” Ophelia was born into privilege, but had she traveled the world? Nope. Naturally Daphne asked, but the furthest from home Ophelia had ever traveled was to New York. What Daphne wouldn’t give to see the famous city.

  “My mother on the other hand, wasn’t as surprised as Papa,” she went on. “But I do think she was disappointed. By now I they’re getting used to the idea I married a working class man.”

  “Are you happy?” Daphne asked.

  Ophelia sighed contentedly. “Gloriously happy.”

  “Then I would hope that’s good enough for them. Better to be happy with a poor man than miserable with a rich one.” Though money did come in handy, she tacked on silently. Hmm, maybe she ought to set her sights on someone in Ophelia’s circles.

  “In time, I think they will be,” Ophelia concluded. “Clint is a good man and has helped folks around here already. He was an agent for Wells Fargo. Sort of like a detective. Though I know I’ll be much happier with him working as a bank manager. If he still worked undercover the way he used to, I’d be a fright.”

  That got Daphne’s attention. “Sounds rather romantic to me.”

  “He said it was dangerous, but he liked it.”

  Daphne felt a pinch of envy. She’d met Clint Jones earlier in the day. He was a handsome man with a serious demeanor. But Daphne heard the couple laughing behind their door several times already. He couldn’t be serious all the time. “You’re a lucky woman, Ophelia, to have found such a man.”

  “Oh, it was completely by accident. I was tossing out the wash water and so was he. We met hanging out our windows.”

  Daphne laughed. “You’re lucky neither of you fell out.”

  “That’s what we say,” she said with a giggle. “But what about you? All that talk of matrimony Felicity had you wrapped up in this morning. Do you want to get married?”

  Daphne bit her lower lip. What to say? “Yes and no, Ophelia. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Of course you don’t want to get married just so you can invest in the silver mine. No matter how good a deal it is. You naturally want to marry for love.”

  Daphne inwardly cringed. “Like I said, I don’t know if I want to marry at all. This is a hard decision, but it’s good to know Felicity and her husband are willing to help when I do decide.”

  “Felicity and Chase are the nicest people and everyone in town knows adores the reverend.” They were sitting next to each other on the settee. Ophelia reached over and took one of her hands. “If you do marry, I hope you and your husband stay. Noelle is growing and once the women’s mission is completed along with the church and schoolhouse, we’ll be a real town.”

  “This isn’t a real town now?” Daphne asked and noted the happy gleam in Ophelia’s violet eyes.

  “Yes, of course, but when the town finally has all the things it needs, then it will be a real home.”

  Home. The word resonated, and Daphne wasn’t sure why. She’d never been attached to home. In her case, an apartment over the tailor shop. She loved Denver, but wanted to fall in love with so many other places. So much so that perhaps she never allowed herself to think of Denver as a permanent residence. Sigh, she should have been born a gypsy.

  “Clint and I don’t know many people in town as yet. But between Reverend Hammond and Mayor Hardt, they could find you a decent gentleman,” Ophelia said.

  Good heavens, was she still talking about that? Daphne smiled at her. “Thank you, I do appreciate it. But if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write.”

  Not that she planned to send Dorcas a letter. Not yet anyway. But she might as well write one. Besides, the longer she talked about this husband business, the guiltier she felt. At this point though, why should she? The Hammonds were willing to back her if she married Walker. She just needed to make sure she looked married. But how does one appear happily married when they don’t want to be married in the first place? What exactly did “marriage in name only” mean? She n
eeded to figure that out before she met with Walker again.

  Ophelia gave her hand a squeeze and stood. “Do you think you’ll have time tomorrow to meet with Felicity and me? I’m sure some of the other ladies in town would love to meet you too. And you must meet Genevieve Kinnison. She’s wonderful!”

  “Yes, her name keeps coming up. Are you sure her name isn’t St. Genevieve?”

  Ophelia laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me, but she’s not from the Catholic Church as I understand.”

  Daphne smiled, stood, and headed for the door. Ophelia naturally followed. She was a kind, sweet woman. The type men fawned over. Beautiful, innocent, and in need of protection. Good thing she married Clint Jones. He was perfect for her. But Daphne didn’t want a man to rescue her, nor did she need rescuing or protection. Well, maybe a little protection. There were still things a man could do that she couldn’t. She didn’t have a man’s strength for one, nor a man’s height. She wasn’t any taller than Ophelia. But Daphne didn’t think Ophelia Jones would get far traveling alone. Daphne on the other hand, had learned how to shoot her grandfather’s gun at the age of ten. When her mother found out, she was furious. Daphne thought it grand. So did her grandpa. He let her shoot at sticks and other targets behind the barn every time she’d visited since until he died. She got darn good at it too.

  He’d left her his gun. She still had it and brought it with her. Ophelia Jones probably couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn let alone stay standing after she fired.

  But enough of that. She shouldn’t be thinking of Ophelia that way. She was kindness itself and had a calming presence about her. She would do well working with women in the mission of Noelle. Once it was finally in operation.

  “Thank you ever so much for the afternoon chat,” Ophelia said at the door. “It’s nice to make new friends.”

  Daphne smiled as her chest warmed. Ophelia Jones would indeed be a good friend. Unfortunately, Daphne was leaving soon. If not for San Francisco, then back to Denver with her hopes dashed. She prayed it was the former not the latter. “Thank you, Ophelia. I’m glad we met.”

  Ophelia took Daphne’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “Me too. And I can’t wait for you to meet Penny, the mayor’s wife. She has the funniest stories!”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Daphne said, her smile still in place.

  “I’m sorry I took up so much for your time today. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ophelia said and turned away from the door.

  “Tomorrow then,” Daphne told her as she left. Ophelia reached her room, smiled, and then disappeared inside.

  Daphne sighed heavily, closed the door and went to the desk. She should write Dorcas but wasn’t sure how much to tell her. She didn’t want to worry her friend. Worse, if Dorcas found out what Daphne was up to, she’d head straight to Noelle to stop her from what, in her eyes, was pure stupidity. At this point, Daphne didn’t wonder if she’d be right.

  She went to the mirror, tidied her hair, and then sat at the desk. She had a couple of hours before her meeting with Walker Brooks. Hmm, what to wear? Not that an outfit was going to make a difference, but she did like looking nice.

  She went to the small armoire in the corner of the room, opened it, and searched through her dresses. She’d managed to bring quite a few and sold off what she didn’t need before leaving Denver. She picked a pretty day dress with tiny red flowers trimmed in white lace. She’d made the matching hat herself and had brought it too. She examined it and made adjustments here and there. She hadn’t seen many bonnets in the dry goods store. With Easter but a week away, one would think they’d carry more. Hmm, perhaps she should show Mr. Fulton what she had in her larger trunk. She was good with millinery, as good as her mother was. She was sure she could strike a deal with the shopkeeper if needed.

  “Yes, this will do nicely,” she said when she was satisfied with the adjustments and went to get dressed. Maybe after this meeting she’d be ready to write that letter. Then again, depending on how her meeting went, she should write down the pros and cons of marrying Walker Brooks.

  * * *

  Walker entered The Golden Nugget and pulled at his shirt collar. He’d dressed in the best clothes he had, which unfortunately, some folks wouldn’t consider fit for Sundays. Still, he wanted to look decent in case Miss Dolittle was beginning to have second thoughts. Not a bad thing, she should be having second thoughts. Her idea was preposterous. But he’d been stern with her at the end of their conversation the day before, making it clear he’d brook no argument when it came to setting down rules for their endeavor. Correction – partnership. The woman obviously hadn’t thought this through. She was either daft, incredibly selfish, a mix of both, or just plain naïve. He hoped it was the latter. He liked her. But now it was time to find out.

  He went to the same table they occupied the day before and sat. He was early but that was okay. He wanted to get a cup coffee. He was surprised he felt nervous, or was it the after effects of fighting off advances from soiled doves to get a bath? That was an ordeal he’d like to forget. But he did smell nice, and never felt cleaner. Unfortunately Jasper was right, it cost triple what it would at the barbershop.

  “Mr. Brooks,” Miss Dolittle said as she approached the table. “You’re early.”

  “So are you,” he pointed out. “Please, sit down.”

  “Thank you,” she said and stood next to a chair.

  “Oh, pardon me,” Walker said apologetically. He got up, went around the table and pulled the chair out.

  “Thank you,” she said and sat.

  He retook his seat. He would have to remind himself she was a lady. His manners were lacking, he knew. There wasn’t much call for etiquette in mining camps. If they married, he’d have to exercise his social graces more.

  Doggone it! He was doing it again. He didn’t plan on marrying her. He was there to tell her no!

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

  He gazed at her, and hoped he didn’t look like some rabbit about to be eaten by a coyote. He needed to get a hold of himself to see this through. If he couldn’t talk sense into the woman, he’d have to put her on a train back to Denver. She had no business being in a place like this. Not with her cockamamie scheme. “Er … I was about to order some.” He glanced around the saloon, spied Seamus by the door and waved.

  The Irishman approached their table. “Meeting again are ye? Two coffees?”

  Miss Dolittle blushed at his words. The sight sent a tingle up Walker’s spine. “Yes, same as yesterday,” she told him.

  “Coming right up,” the Irishman said and headed for the hall behind the bar.

  “He seems a nice man,” she commented.

  “He is. At least from what I’ve seen,” Walker said. “Now, about your proposition?”

  “Mr. Brooks, I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “So have I,” he said. “About that fifteen percent.” He meant to smile when he said it, even joke a little, but he didn’t. Instead he gazed into her eyes again and caught a glimpse of worry in them. Fear. His protective instincts kicked in. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I am,” she quickly said. “I’ve been busy today. Visiting with some of the ladies in town.”

  He wondered how that could have affected her. Surely her visit didn’t put that look in her eye. “That’s nice. Did you make some new friends?”

  She nodded. “Yes, as a matter fact. I met some very nice women. They’d like to see me stay.”

  “But you’re bent on leaving, aren’t you?” he asked with little amusement.

  “Yes. I’ll be leaving.”

  His protectiveness changed to irritation. “So you’re bound and determined to do this. No matter what?”

  “Mr. Brooks, you don’t understand…”

  “I understand perfectly, sweetheart. You’re a stubborn woman, bent on getting what she wants. That, unfortunately, makes you a few other things.”

  Her brows shot up. “What sorts of things?”

&nb
sp; He was about to answer when Seamus brought their coffees. “Here ye are, folks.” He set the cups on the table with a hint of a smile. “Anything else?”

  “No,” they said at once.

  Seamus arched a brow at their mutual irritation. “Ye know where to find me if there is.” He turned and headed back to the bar.

  They watched him go then looked at each other. Miss Dolittle’s eyes were wide. She reminded him of a fawn he’d seen in the woods last week. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. “Miss Dolittle …”

  “Mr. Brooks, you are correct when you say that I’m stubborn and that I’d be leaving …”

  “Yes,” he interjected as his heart began to race. “Which is why I’ll do it.”

  She blanched. “Wha … what?”

  Great Scott! Did he just say what he thought he did? Judging from the look on her face? Yep.

  “You … you’ll marry me?” she stammered.

  “Um … well …”

  She swallowed hard. “Because I was going to leave anyway …”

  That got him. “Absolutely not!”

  She jerked at the words. “I figured the sooner the better.”

  “No.” He leaned toward her. “You pretty little fool, you’d never survive. At least if I marry you, you’ll have my name for protection.”

  She stared at him. “Your name? Oh, yes, of course. Mrs. Brooks. That makes sense.”

  “You bet it does,” he said and fell back against his chair. In more ways than one, he thought.

  She continued to stare at him. “Mr. Brooks, I … I don’t know what to say.”

  His eyes locked on hers as he leaned forward again. “‘Thank you’ would be nice.” Because in all honesty, now that the words were out, he didn’t think he could take them back. But if he was smart, that’s exactly what he should do and quick.