by Kit Morgan
He looked horrified. “Great Scott, no. I’m selling the ones I’ve read and don’t wish to keep. As the business grows, of course, I’ll get new inventory.”
Dorcas did the math – half of twenty by fifty … “Five hundred square feet?” she asked, wide-eyed. Just how many books did this man possess?
“Oh, but that’s small in the scheme of things. And we have an equal space in the back to serve as our living quarters.” He gave her an apologetic look. “It’s only to start, mind you – Jack Peregrine and I constructed it so we could add a second story later on. Eventually our living quarters will be over the shop. I didn’t have the money to do everything I wanted, and, you might as well know …” He took a deep breath, held it as if to brace himself, exhaled. “I needed to get married so I could invest in the silver mine.” Still as a statue, he stared at her.
Dorcas stared back. “You … what?”
“It’s true,” he said, abashed. “I wanted to invest in the silver mine, and one of the requirements is you have to be married. So now you know. I’m not ashamed of it, and don’t you dare think you’re only a means to an end. I wanted a wife.”
Her heart raced and she lowered the hand she’d placed over her chest, not sure when she’d put it there. “So you sent for a mail-order bride?”
“At Rev. Hammond’s suggestion, yes.” He bit his lower lip and looked away. “There are no eligible women in the area save for some soiled doves, and … and I did what I had to do to secure an investment in the mine.” When he looked at her again, his face was full of determination. “I did want a wife as well – this just wasn’t how I pictured getting one.”
Her hands were at her chest again. This time she took a deep breath and blew it out. “I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled. “Say you’ll still marry me?”
Before she could answer, Seamus approached with their coffee. “Here ye are. Cream, sugar? I’m afraid I left them in the kitchen.”
“Please and thank you, Seamus,” Mr. Hunter said. “Does Norah have any cookies back there?”
“She surely does. She just started her afternoon baking.”
Mr. Hunter gave his belly a pat. “If I don’t stop eating Norah’s cooking, I will get fat.”
Seamus grinned. “Aye, that’s me Norah. She does like to feed a man and around here she has plenty of chances.”
Dorcas smiled as Seamus headed back toward what had to be the kitchen. She stared at her cup but didn’t pick it up.
“Waiting for the cream and sugar?” Mr. Hunter asked.
She nodded, unsure what to say. She didn’t want to leave their conversation unfinished, but couldn’t help feeling a little put out. Her mind began to run in multiple directions and she couldn’t pick a thought to hold on to. He’d just confessed his reason for sending off for a mail-order bride. But at this point, did it matter? At least he was honest and forthright. Was she willing to be the same?
Chapter Five
“Miss Minx?”
Dorcas jumped. “Oh, terribly sorry – woolgathering again. I do it a lot, I’m afraid.” It was as good an excuse as any. His honesty made her feel guilty.
Still, she didn’t want Vernon to come between them. She liked what she saw in Elwood Hunter and genuinely wanted to get to know him better. Before Elwood and Rev. Hammond knocked on her door, she was considering fleeing Noelle and going into hiding. But then she’d have no protection, no means of supporting herself. Marrying Elwood would alleviate those problems. And he was a very likable fellow besides – perhaps he’d turn out to be a good husband.
“Cream and sugar, as ordered,” Seamus announced, setting them on the table. “The cookies will be out of the oven in a minute or two.”
“Thank you, Seamus,” Elwood said with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. He looked at Dorcas. “You’ll love Norah’s cookies. A fine baker and a wonderful cook … not to say that you aren’t. Er, are you?”
She couldn’t help but smile. He was a grown man with a boyish innocence she found attractive. “I’m a fair cook, if that answers your question. But I haven’t tasted Norah’s cooking, so I don’t know how mine compares.”
His eyebrows lowered as he thought about her answer. “A smart man would keep his mouth closed at this point. But sometimes I’m not that smart.” He waved at the kitchen. “I wouldn’t mind if you happen to swipe Norah’s stew recipe.”
Dorcas laughed. “I’ll remember to ask her for it.”
He theatrically sighed in relief and wiped his brow. “Thank the stars I survived that.”
“So it seems.” She reached for the cream pitcher, poured some into her coffee, added a spoonful of sugar and gave it a stir. “Tell me more about your shop, Mr. Hunter.”
“Elwood,” he corrected. “As soon as the shelves are up we can start hauling the books over, maybe as early as tomorrow. Would you care to help?”
“Carry books? I’d love to.”
He chuckled. “No, not with the hauling, but the organizing. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Would you like to see it?”
She took a sip of her coffee, his concern for her welfare warming her. “After our coffee, yes.” The hot liquid burned her throat, but she was much more interested in the man sitting across the table. Still, she shouldn’t get too interested until after she talked to Daphne, and that talk would have to wait. For now, she needed to relax long enough to get to know him better. After all, he was going to be her husband.
“I put in the stove two days ago,” he continued proudly. “And we have a small table, with four chairs.”
The excitement in his voice was hard to miss. Dorcas smiled. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yes, ma’am. As soon as I got into town I began to execute my plans.”
“Which were?”
“Mainly getting the bookshop built. Mayor Hardt didn’t have any buildings to rent so I had to construct my own. Good thing there are two sawmills within a day’s ride. I had to order lumber from both to stay on schedule, but everything has worked out so far.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about building,” she confessed.
His head tilted to one side. “You never told me what your family did.”
“Oh, I didn’t? My father owns three dry goods stores in Denver.”
“He does?” he said with a smile and leaned toward her.
She’d seen this sort of reaction before when she’d spoken about her father’s stores. Her family wasn’t nearly as well off as the Finks, but they definitely did all right. She took another sip of her coffee and hoped he didn’t ask her anything else. Best to keep the conversation on him. “Is there a bed?” She flinched – why did she have to ask that?
“Of course there is – it came in last week. A beautiful brass bed. Ordered it special …” His eyes darted to the table and back.
Dorcas flushed. She’s been so busy lamenting over Vernon that she hadn’t given the marriage bed a second thought. She’d have to thank the reverend again for suggesting they take a few days to get to know one another.
“… And we have a small settee, and two extra chairs for company,” he suddenly added. “It’s not much to start, I know, but after we see a return on my investment in the silver mine and I sell a few novels …”
“Novels?” she said with interest. “You write?”
Elwood smiled proudly. “Yes I’m working on my first one now – ‘The Perils of “Polecat” Pete Savage’.”
Dorcas smiled despite her nerves. “Tell me about it.”
His grin widened. “You do realize what you just asked me?”
She giggled at the delight on his face. “No, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
He laughed. “Indeed. Where to begin?”
“At the beginning,” she urged. This was obviously his first love, next to others’ books.
And for the next hour he regaled her with tales of his protagonist, Sheriff Pete Savage. By the time he was done, they’d gone through three cups of
coffee each and a whole plate of cookies. “I patterned Pete after Sheriff Draven – not too much, mind, but enough,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Draven for weeks, but so far it hasn’t happened. Rev. Hammond says he can help with that. I think I know my hero well enough to start writing, but he still needs something …”
“Goodness – from the sounds of it, I thought you had started.”
“There’s a lot of preparation before the actual writing. But enough of all that.” He stood, went around the table, helped her up and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Dorcas smiled at the brightness in his eyes. “Please. But shouldn’t we have a chaperone?”
“To walk down the street in broad daylight? Hardly – this isn’t Denver, let alone Boston. And my shop is full of workers. There will be plenty of people around.”
Dorcas smiled – really smiled. During their talk she forgot about Vernon, the arranged marriage and any thoughts about how upset her parents must be. There was just Elwood and his books, and that was enough for her.
Norah emerged from the kitchen to retrieve the plate and cups. “Heading out, are ye?” she commented and glanced at their linked arms. “Going to show her yer shop?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Elwood said with a tip of his hat. “By the way, I have some fine cookbooks if you’re interested.”
“Me and me man will wait until you set everything up, lad. Then we’ll come take a look.”
“I can’t wait to show them to you. Right now, though, I’ll show my future wife a few things.”
Dorcas blushed at his words, and her heart skipped a beat. “I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Hunter.”
“Again, call me Elwood. Might as well get used to using our first names.”
“When’s the wedding?” Norah asked.
“If all goes well and we finish the back wall, next Tuesday. I won’t have my wife sleeping in a draft.”
He was being so kind and protective – just what she needed right now. Which reminded her: Would Daphne return to town before the wedding?
“Off with ye, then,” Norah said. “And remember, supper’s at six. Ye know how I like ye to be prompt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elwood ushered Dorcas toward the doors. She caught sight of several miners playing cards at a nearby table, and realized that since her arrival there had been no whistles, hoots or hollers. She’d heard these men were a rough lot and was surprised they’d been so quiet. Maybe they were afraid to say anything while she was in Elwood’s company. She smiled at the thought as her future husband escorted her outside.
“Well,” he said, pointing ahead as they started up the street, “there it is.”
Dorcas admired the brand-new structure – only one story, but painted a pale yellow like old pages. The front wall was concave, both sides angling toward the front door to resemble an open book. “Elwood, how lovely.”
“Do you like the color?” he asked. “I thought to paint it green, but yellow is happier.”
“I think it’s wonderful. Can I see inside?”
“That’s why we’re here.” He led her across the street, down the boardwalk and stopped in front of his building. “The sign will go up tomorrow – ‘Hunter’s Books’,” he announced, waving at the space over the door. “With the letters in green.”
“It’s going to be wonderful. And what lovely windows,” she added, admiring the wide front panes.
“Yes, I want to have nice displays in them. But they’ll need tending now and then – washing, that sort of thing, when we change displays. Oh, did I tell you we have two stoves?”
She smiled at his enthusiasm. “No, you only mentioned the one.”
“One in the storefront, the other in back. Which reminds me – need to see about a woodshed.”
Dorcas gazed at him a moment. He looked so happy. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not everything, I’m afraid. Things are always coming up that need tending. But now that you’re here, you can help me.”
Dorcas smiled again. She hadn’t given much thought to what she’d be doing as a wife. A woman cooked, cleaned, did the mending, minded the store … at least in her world. As his wife and coworker, what duties would she have to perform that she didn’t know yet? Domesticity hadn’t been on her mind when she came here, only getting away from Vernon Fink. She shivered at the thought, quickly clearing her throat to cover it up.
“Are you cold? Here, let’s go inside.” He led her into the building.
She looked around at the new stove, the polished counter, the cash register, and suddenly felt right at home. “This reminds me of one of my father’s stores before we opened it. My mother took me with her to speak to him about something. None of the goods were on the shelves. I remember how he sat me on the counter and let me dust the cash register.”
Elwood turned to her. “Glad your family owns dry goods stores. Running a bookshop should be very familiar.”
“I’m sure it will be.” She studied his face. She’d never thought of a man’s eyes as beautiful, but that was the only way to describe Elwood’s.
“Also glad we’ll be working side by side,” he said. “Not that I need help, but …” He ran his hand down her arm. “… it’ll be nice to have you by my side.”
Dorcas blushed, growing warmer by the second. “So you have a new register?”
“Yes.” He turned toward it. “Cost me a pretty penny too, but we need it.” He glanced at the stacks of shelving piled against the walls just as several workers came in the front door, greeted him and began to work. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to speak to Jack over there. He owns the post and freight and has been invaluable to me.”
“Certainly.” She continued to study the room as Jack spoke to the workers, then to Elwood. After a minute, the men shook hands, Jack made a beeline for her – and she took an involuntary step back. Elwood caught the action and raised a curious eyebrow. She shook her head to let him know it was nothing, that she was all right, but she wasn’t. She was suddenly nervous, jumpy, not herself at all. If this kept up, she’d never get married – guilt alone would drive her away from Noelle. She couldn’t let that happen – she was worrying for nothing, and needed to stop it.
“And you must be the future bride,” Jack said, seemingly not noticing her reticence as he approached. She noticed he had a slight limp. “Elwood here’s told me all about you. And I told my wife – she’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Dorcas glanced between the two men. “She is?”
“Of course – this is a small town. Everyone knows Elwood’s getting married. We’re all friends and family here.”
“That’s right!” a gruff voice declared behind her. Dorcas turned. An old man with a silly smile stood in the doorway that led to the back of the building. “Welcome to Noelle! Um, who’re you again?”
Jack bit his lower lip to keep from laughing and shook his head. “You’ll have to excuse Grandpa Gus. You’ll meet his betrothed, Agatha, at some point, but she’ll remember your name.” He sighed. “They were supposed to get married but didn’t. They, um, haven’t told anyone. That said, we’d love to have you and Elwood to supper.”
“Indeed we would!” Gus waltzed in, took Dorcas’ hand and gave it a healthy shake. “What’s yer name again?”
“I haven’t introduced her yet, Grandpa,” said Jack.
“Gus,” Elwood said from behind Dorcas, putting his hands on her shoulders, “may I introduce my fiancée Dorcas Minx.”
Gus shook her hand again, this time hard enough to make her shoulder move. “Glad to meet you, pretty lady. Can’t wait to introduce you to my sweetheart. Yer coming to supper, of course?”
Jack pried his hand from hers. “Not tonight, Grandpa. Maybe after they’ve wed.”
“What? You mean ya ain’t married yet?” Grandpa gave Elwood a suspicious look. “Who’s chaperoning you, then?”
Elwood looked at Jack. “He is,” he teased. “Wedding’s Tuesday if all g
oes well. Speaking of which, how are things coming along back there?” He took Dorcas’ hand and headed for the back of the building.
“Just fine,” Jack said as he followed. “We should be done in the next few days.”
“If it don’t rain,” Gus added with a wink.
Dorcas took one look at the back room and gasped. The space was charming, like a little cottage. There was a table near the center, and a stove, hutch and dry sink at one wall. The stove was small but functional. A settee against the opposite wall sat between two upholstered chairs. At the far side was a brass bed, an armoire … and a large tarp where a wall should be. Other than that, the room was practical and beautiful.
Like the man holding her hand. She looked at him, his clean-shaven face, his nice clothes, the perfect cut of his hair. He was an organized individual, she could tell, and she instinctively knew exactly how to take care of him. After all, her father was much the same – he kept his storefronts clean and orderly, his inventory up-to-date. A bookshop would be even easier – you didn’t have to worry as much about insects or rodents eating your stock.
“Well, what do you think?” Elwood asked.
“It’s very nice.” She continued to look around.
“We’ve a pump out back.” He pointed to a door she hadn’t noticed.
She let go of his hand and went to it. “That’s good.” She glanced at the dry sink, and the small shelf above it with two plates, two cups, two bowls and a glass full of silverware. He’d thought of everything.
He joined her, took her hands in his and smiled. “I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. After a couple of years we’ll add a second story – there’ll be room for a proper parlor, a bedroom, kitchen …”
“It all sounds lovely,” she said. She was surprised at the calm in her voice, considering this could all be gone in an instant. She closed her eyes and looked away.
“Dorcas, what’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”
She turned back to him. “That’s not it at all. I just have a lot on my mind.” She glanced at the Peregrines and back. “Is there someplace we can talk?”