After seeing letters of acceptance for Melva, they’d not asked much about Pearl’s fictional employers.
“We’ll tell them you met someone and fell madly in love,” Melva had justified. “They plan to travel out to Montana to visit in the summer, that gives you plenty of time to make it believable.”
Despite the fact what Melva said made sense, lying was never the right thing to do. Concentrating on the passing dreary landscape, with mountains in the background and land as far as she could see, it was hard to imagine living in a place so sparse.
She turned to remark on it to Melva, but her cousin had fallen asleep. Once again, Pearl turned her attention to the scenery noticing buildings in the distance. Angel Creek, it had to be as it was their next stop.
A shudder went through her as the stagecoach seemed to gain speed. Either it was her anxiousness making it seem so, or the horses were excited at the prospect of rest and warm stables. Probably a little of both.
She decided once settled, the first thing she’d do would be to write her aunt and uncle and tell them the truth. It would be easier to do it now and allow them to get used to the idea of her being a mail order bride, than to tell them after deceiving them for months. If there was one thing her parents had instilled in her was that no matter what, never tell a lie.
Not only did the truth always come out, but someone who lied, was not to be trusted.
“Is that Angel Creek?” Melva asked in a groggy voice. “Seems as if I just closed my eyes for a minute.”
Pearl joined her in studying the town they entered. It was rustic, by Philadelphia standards, but quaint and lovely. Wood and brick buildings lined the main street that the coach rode down.
She was glad for the slow pace, as it gave her an opportunity to see things from the safety of inside the coach.
Finally, they came to a stop. Melva turned to look out the opposite side. “There are a few people gathered. I hope the family is not here yet, so I have time to meet your future husband and ensure all is well before I head out,” Melva said.
“I hope so too,” Pearl replied with a tremble in her voice. “Oh goodness, this could be the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Surely it is not,” Melva quipped sliding to the end of the bench as a rather portly woman was assisted down. “Come,” she grabbed Pearl’s hand and together they exited the coach.
The large wooden platform, which Pearl guessed to be a waiting station of sorts, since there was a small ticket office building on one side and sturdy railing along the back and opposite side.
People greeted the couple who’d finally stopped arguing, leaving only the thin older man, who held his hat in both hands.
Pearl’s eyes widened. Surely it wasn’t Owen Reynolds. She looked to Melva. “Who do you think he’s here for?”
Undeterred as usual, Melva motioned to the man. “I am Melva Hamish and this is my cousin Pearl Jameson. Are you here for either of us Sir?”
The man nodded, his eyes moving from Pearl to Melva. “I am Peter, I work for the Young family. I am here to collect you Miss.”
Melva studied the man for a beat. “Very good. I must see that my cousin is settled in before we go. Would you mind helping us get her trunks to a safe place for her?”
The man whistled for a young boy, who rushed over. His grimy freckled face melted Pearl’s heart. “Is there a hotel or a boarding house perhaps?”
“Yes,” the boy pointed. “There.”
Peter and the boy loaded their luggage onto a small carriage and while Melva and Pearl walked to the boarding house.
Located to the left of the stage arrival area was a simple two-story structure made of weathered timbers with a second-story balcony overlooking the street. Over the front door was a hand painted sign.
“Rose Haven,” was painted in white paint, the R and the H drawn with exaggerated flourish.
At their knock, a rail thin white-haired woman greeted them with a sweeping gaze from head to toe.
“Welcome to Angel Creek ladies. I am Martha Garble. “Come in, come in.”
Pearl and Melva followed her into a foyer that was lorded over by a giant portrait of an austere man. In the far corner was a piano, next which to an old dog slept.
They followed Martha to a small secretary. She motioned for them to sit on faded velvet blue chaises. She then settled behind the desk. “I must say, you are both very beautiful. Who are the lucky fellows?”
“Thank you, but only I am here to marry. My cousin will be employed.” Pearl stopped speaking, distracted by the enticing aroma of food coming from the other room.
“It smells delicious,” Melva said.
The woman smiled widely. “You must be famished. Let’s get you feed. Meanwhile, I can hunt down your husbands.”
“I do not have one,” Melva announced as they hurried after the spry woman. “I am here to be a governess for the Young family,” Melva continued, as they followed the woman to a table.
“Ah yes, the Youngs. I heard they were hiring someone,” Martha said peering out the window. “Sometimes I forget things so quickly. Peter ate here earlier and mentioned to be picking someone up.”
“Peter, is taking me to their home.” Outside the window the man in question leaned against the carriage having a conversation with another man.
“Ah yes,” Martha said. “He and my late husband, may he rest in peace, were good friends. Once you get Peter talking, he does go on.” She chuckled. “They’ll be talking for a while, so you have plenty of time to eat and relax a bit.”
For the next few moments, they spoke about the Young family as Martha claimed to know them well. Pearl was happy to remain silent as Melva continued on to tell them about the town. For the moment, she pretended to be on holiday, exploring a new town without a care in the world.
The interior of the boarding house reminded her of a doll house. Every surface in the dining room was covered in white linens edged with white lace.
The walls were a rich mahogany brightened by the contrast of white lace curtains over the windows and dividing the dining room from what she presumed was the kitchen
The tables were covered with white lace tablecloths, the napkins a hardier white fabric, but were edged with the same delicate lace. Three of the six tables were in use. Two with couples and at one sat a man and with a young boy.
Pearl studied the last, considering that her husband to be had a young boy. The man seemed to sense her regard, because he looked up and their gazes met. Shivers of awareness traveled through her and she quickly looked away. The man was handsome, but not in an overt way. His face was bruised as if he’d been in a fight reminding her of the stories often told about how men in the west were untamed. It felt as if she’d met him before, but of course it was impossible. Immediately she began to consider if perhaps he was Owen Reynolds. He did have a young boy with him.
Just as she was about to ask Martha, a couple appeared at the entrance and the woman hurried to greet them.
The man and boy had obviously finished their meal and walked out passing her table. Pearl sneaked a look just as he exited the building.
He stopped and spoke to Peter, who patted the boy’s head. It was then she noticed the boy’s face was also bruised. Had they been in some sort of accident. When the man placed his arm protectively around the young boy’s skinny shoulders, it was a gesture of protection.
“You’re frowning,” Melva said and turned to look out the window just as the men dispersed. A short man with a wiry beard walked by the window, met their gazes and tipped his hat. A light smile brightening his face.
“Just wondering again if this was a good idea. Men here are so very different. Bolder.”
“I suppose they have to be,” Melva said. “There aren’t as many women, so they have to do their best to get our attention.”
A wagon rode by, a man and woman on the front bench. The woman waved at another, who motioned for them to slow down. When they did, the woman on the cart climbed down and th
e two hugged. When the women began an animated conversation motioning with their hands and laughing, it made Pearl smile.
“Do you plan to stay here tonight? Need me to send word to your husband to be?” Martha asked seeming to be used to the fact mail order brides came to Angel Creek regularly.
“I think I prefer to stay here a couple nights before sending word. I’d like to get my bearings a bit.”
The woman’s lips curved. “I don’t blame you one bit Sweetheart. You wish to be rested and look your best before meeting him. Who is it that you’re here to marry?”
“Mister Reynolds,” she replied, and the woman’s eyes widened.
“You don’t say.” Martha laughed.
A loud commotion broke out and as a man rode into the center of town unable to control his horse. Men, including Peter rushed to try to help as the animal bucked and kicked its hind legs until finally throwing the rider to the ground.
“Oh my,” both Pearl and Melva said unable to look away. It took several men to calm the animal down, while others dragged the unconscious man away.
“That fool won’t be happy until he’s dead,” Martha complained hurrying out.
Martha hurried outside to the man on the ground, who was sitting up now and shaking his head as if trying to figure out what happened.
When Martha neared, he held up both hands as if expecting a strike. He was right. Martha slapped him on the side of the head and then yanked him up by the ear.
A man with a kitchen towel and apron emerged from behind the curtains and peered out while chuckling. “Wild as the wind, her grandson.”
The man kept an eye on them as Martha and the young man entered. He shook his head. “Go wash up and come into the kitchen. You’ll be washing dishes for the rest of the week.”
The young man, who looked to be about sixteen grimaced. “But Grandmother, I need to work with the horse.”
“I am not in the mood to bury you. That horse will be returned to whoever hired you to break it.”
It was just a bit later that Pearl walked out with Melva and hugged her tightly. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can,” Melva promised. “If things don’t work out or you feel uncomfortable for any reason, come to where I am.”
Doing her best to maintain a calm demeanor, Pearl nodded. “You too. Let us plan to see each other in two weeks. I will miss you horribly.”
Melva’s nose turned red and she nodded silently, climbing into the carriage.
Peter gave Pearl a subtle nod and climbed onto the bench. She stood for a long while on the street until noticing a trio of men across the street watching her. It certainly was interesting to be so noticeable.
Once inside, Martha escorted her to a room that was unsurprisingly frilly. Both the canopy over the bed and the curtains were made from white lace fabric. The bed was neatly made with an heirloom quilt of subdued colors. Other than the bed, there was an armoire, a writing desk, a chest for storage, and a white porcelain basin.
Pearl had to admit, she liked Martha’s taste in décor.
“Isn’t this a welcoming room?” Martha said walking to the window and opening it allowing sun light to brighten it a bit. “You’ll be comfortable here.”
“It must be difficult to keep everything so bright.” Pearl said.
Martha nodded, soft curls at her temples bouncing. “It can be, but the laundress loves me.”
“So, you know Mr. Reynolds?” Pearl asked feeling her cheeks heat.
Martha nodded. “Oh yes. I meant to tell you, but with my grandson’s antics got distracted. Luke Reynolds was here in the dining room when you got here. He and little Charley. He dotes on the boy.”
Pearl’s heart thudded. “That was him? They looked as if they’d been in a fight.”
“That drunk brother of his.” Martha shook her head. “That is his story to tell, but it's a good thing he’s gone. Luke told me he kicked his brother out day before yesterday.”
The woman left promising a delicious breakfast, but all Pearl could think about was that she’d met her future husband without knowing. Although the story of a drunk brother was troubling, and the fact both he and his son were bruised was not a good sign of their homelife.
She let out a breath and sat on the bed. Perhaps it would be better that she find Melva and figure out how to get a job as a governess.
Marriage was a big step and Pearl was becoming more and more unsure.
Chapter 4
Two Days Later...
A horseman headed toward the ranch and Luke walked out from the corral where the cows were now feeding. Whoever it was didn’t seem to be in a hurry and from the distance, he could not make out who it was.
Deciding to continue with his chores, he headed to the stables to begin cleaning the stalls. Hopefully the man headed there came to work since he’d talked to several people to let them know he was looking to hire someone to help out.
“Uncle Luke,” Charley ran into the stable about an hour later. “There’s a man here to talk to ya.”
Behind Charley, a man he recognized walked into the stable. The man looked around assessing the area. “Come to see about work.”
Just a bit older than him Butcher Baker, was a good worker, but rarely stuck around longer than a few months. The man had lost his wife and children just after arriving there from the east. He’d buried them and from then on lived wherever he worked.
That Butch could leave with little notice suited Luke fine. Come planting season, he usually hired the same four men every year, who rotated from farm to farm.
“Hey Butch. Didn’t know you were back in town.”
Butch frowned up at the rafters. “Yeah, didn’t find more than a few ounces of gold north of here, so headed back to Angel Creek.”
“There’s a warm place for you to sleep either here in the rooms, or out at the cabin, up to you. Can’t promise good food, but it will be hot.”
“Here’s good enough for me. Hopefully your new bride will be a good cook.” Butch chuckled. “Martha said to tell you to come fetch her in the morning.”
Luke stared at the older man scrambling to figure out what he was talking about. “Are you sure she said me?”
“Yep,” Butch said picking up a pitchfork and heading to a stall. “Said, “tell Luke to come see about his bride.”
The first thing that popped into Luke mind was the beautiful woman he’d seen the day before at the hotel. It wasn’t until heading home that he got mad at himself for not introducing himself. Then again, with a bruised swollen face, he wouldn’t have made much of an impression.”
“What time’s supper?” Butch called out.
“I’ll send Charley to fetch you.”
Of course, the bride was not there for him, if anything she’d written his brother. It was too much to hope that someone had placed an ad for him. Luke supposed it would have to be done. The next day, he’d go to town and speak to the young woman. Another of Owen’s messes he had to clean up. The woman had traveled so far only to have to return back to wherever she came from. There was a chance she could stay and marry someone else he supposed. There were plenty of eligible men in town that were looking for wives.
Charley caught up with him, Jack on the boy’s heels. “I am glad you’re gonna get a wife,” the boy said, his solemn eyes lifting to him. “Maybe she’ll like me.”
“Everyone likes you Charley.” They walked to the chicken coop. He wanted to be sure the wire he’d put around it held well. The rebuilding of it would have to wait another day.
He’d noticed tracks around it, some coyote or wild animal circling the enclosure.
“Our wife may not like me,” Charley insisted. “It would be nice if she does.”
“I’m not sure anyone will be coming to live with us buddy,” Luke began. “I think she may have other plans.”
Charley sized him up. “Take a bath Uncle Luke, comb your hair good so she will want to stay.”
His heart broke for the boy who’d never known a mother’s
love. After being gone to Idaho for two years, Owen had appeared with the toddler at his parents telling that the boy’s mother had died. The woman’s death had taken a toll on Owen. He was never the same after his return.
“I’m sure your Mama loved you.”
Charley toed the ground his narrow shoulders rounded. “I suppose.” When he looked up, his face was bright. “Can I come with you when you go see the lady?”
“Sure. Now stop yapping and get your chores done. Feed the chickens and see if Butch needs any help.”
For the next hour Luke worked on the fencing around the coop and then a wooden roof to the enclosure that would keep the chickens safe and warm through the winter.
The thought of cooking made him even more tired, but he trudged to a bucket just outside the door and washed up with the frigid water. Once that was done, he checked on the pot of boiling beans and ham. They’d eat that for two days along with thick slices of bread he’d purchased in town.
Bread was a treat since he’d never been able to make it. Most meals were accompanied by cornbread, which he’d become pretty good at making.
Luke poured coffee into a mug and sat at the table to consider what to do about the newly arrived bride. Once he explained about Owen, he was sure the poor woman would not want to marry his brother and would probably demand to be sent back home.
On the other hand, he could bring her to the ranch and allow her to get to know him and Charley. Perhaps then she’d agree to marry him if he courted her.
At the thought he choked on his coffee and coughed. Was he actually considering marriage to someone he’d not met nor even knew their name?
He stood and went to the room Owen and Charley had shared. On a small table he found some papers. One of them a letter.
It was from Pennsylvania, from a woman named Pearl Jameson. There was no picture, but she did describe herself as tall, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. She claimed to be an excellent baker and hope to start a new life after losing her parents to a fire. The woman explained that she had no home and therefore looked forward to making Owen’s home in Angel Creek hers.
Pearl Page 3