Madame gave Max a slice of bread and butter which he wolfed down. “I’ll put some extra water on to boil for a bath,” she said.
While the water heated up for the hip bath in the bathing room, which was attached to the side of the house, Anna wondered about clothes for the boy. The ones he had on were ragged and filthy. What a dreadful way for a child to have lived.
She didn’t blame Ginny as the woman had obviously done the best she could. The people to blame were the rich, who were not prepared to share their bounty with those less fortunate than themselves. Once she had overhead Mrs. Moreau telling a friend about a twenty-dollar hat she just had to buy.
It was obvious Max hadn’t been in a bathtub for a long time as he kicked and screamed, leaving Anna with no choice but to pick him up and place him in the tub. Within a few seconds he realized this was going to be pleasurable not painful. He was on the skinny side, obviously undernourished, but not too bad all things considered.
While Madame went off to check the attic where she had stored a few of her son’s belongings when he got married and moved out, Anna washed Max’s hair.
“Now, isn’t this nice?”
“Yes. I haven’t had a bath for a long time.” He stuck out his little pink tongue in concentration. “When my pa was alive I did.”
She knew little about children but would have thought him to be about four years old had his mother not said he was six. He didn’t speak much, although when he did, he was articulate enough. Poor little boy. Her heart went out to him.
“Ma couldn’t read or write,” he suddenly said.
“Oh?” Well, he wouldn’t have received any schooling then. She could easily teach him for a while at least if there wasn’t a school near where Mr. Edwards lived.
Once Max was washed and dried, she wrapped him in a towel and led him into the kitchen to stand near the stove so he wouldn’t catch a chill even though it wasn’t cold.
Madame returned with a pair of boy’s pants, a shirt and a short coat. “They’ll be too large, but it was the best I could do.”
“Thank you. I’ll have to buy him some clothes.”
“No, you can’t afford it. We can alter some of my son’s clothes for him. They’re not doing much good up in the attic. I never should have kept them. Nostalgia I suppose.”
“I’m good at darning and hemming.”
“He’ll need a set to travel in and a change,” Madame said. “We’ll throw those rags he was wearing into the fire, they’re not even worth washing. Now, ma petite, how would you like Madame Hazel to dish you up some stew. You can have more when we do supper tonight for the others.”
While Max gobbled down the stew Anna watched him. He was hungry and eating quickly but handled the spoon well and chewed with his mouth closed. At one time he must have been taught table manners. Two years Ginny had said they had lived rough on the streets, sleeping in doorways or makeshift shelters at the back of factories. She shuddered thinking about the tragic situation of a woman and her child who didn’t have a home. Sadly, there would be many others in the same position.
The churches helped as best they could, although Ginny lived in fear of them taking Max away from her if she approached them for help. More likely they would have found them somewhere to stay, but the risk of losing her child was something Ginny obviously was not prepared to take. She obviously hadn’t thought about what would happen to Max if she became ill or died. I can’t condemn her for doing what she thought was best. “Please God, never let me get that desperate.”
Chapter Four
At the railway freight yard at Dry River, Connor Grey loaded the last of the hoops for his barrels. He had ordered them from Austin a few weeks ago, but until today had not had the time to make the overnight trip to collect them. Fortunately, the station master was ex-army like him, and didn’t mind keeping the goods there until he could pick them up.
He wiped the back of his hand across his perspiring forehead. If he had been a vain man, he would be flattered to think some of his barrels ended up at a distillery in the east. If he had once been vain, it was ended by a Yankee sabre during the war. He fingered the scar running from the edge of his eyebrow down to his jaw. His hopes of marrying and raising a family were lost on the battlefield at Gettysburg.
Why had he fought so hard to stay alive? To return home to his widowed mother and their rundown ranch, that’s why. Ma had endured enough sadness and pain in her life without losing her only child.
Over the years the bitterness of what had befallen him had seeped into his soul. His ranch was too small to make anything except a meager living. Fortunately, he had learned the art of barrel making from his father who had once been a top-class cooper. The old man’s drunken decline had eventually robbed him of the ability to do anything other than fight or drink.
The smell of whiskey turned his stomach because he hated what it could do to a man. Sheer hypocrisy making barrels to hold the produce he so detested. “You’re a disgrace,” he muttered, hating himself afresh. A man had to live, didn’t he?
Anyway, it was only the special oak ones that were used for wine or whiskey, the others were used to stores foodstuffs. This thought salved his conscience.
On top of his scarred face, he had a permanent limp, the legacy of a Yankee bullet through the knee, so there was little he could do except return to barrel making to supplement his ranch income. It was a tolerable existence, giving him the solitude, he craved.
The spring sun sure had some heat to it. In the distance, the train from New Orleans belched black smoke into the clear blue sky.
Harry Edwards, the saloon owner, stumbled up to the platform. He detested the man. Rumor had it he was always on the lookout for gullible young women to work at the Ravenous Dog waiting tables. The reality was they ended up servicing his clients in the upstairs bordello. Even this early in the day he was swigging from a whiskey bottle. Connor turned his back in disgust.
The train pulled in with a whooshing of steam and a loud clang. He stepped over to a water tank and dipped a mug, which was secured to a stick, into it. His throat felt parched. As he swallowed the cool liquid, he glanced up just in time to see a young woman alight from the train followed by a porter carrying a trunk.
She wore a crumpled dress, a few brown curls straggled out from under her bonnet. She glanced around as if looking for someone.
Harry sidled up to her. “Are you Anna Simpson?”
“Yes, who’s asking?”
“Harry Edwards.”
Connor was close enough to hear what was being said. He should have moved away, none of his business, but his feet seemed somehow rooted to the ground.
“I was expecting a gentleman, not some drunkard,” she said.
Anna couldn’t believe this flashily dressed man, reeking of whiskey could be the same Harry Edwards who had written to her. She glanced around and the train was already pulling out of the station. Max peeped out from behind her skirt.
“Is that brat yours?” Harry snarled.
“Yes.”
“You, lying whore.” He slapped her across the face with such force her head snapped back.
“Don’t touch her again or I’ll kill you.”
Anna watched as a man in his mid-thirties limped over to them.
“Yeah, and you’re gonna stop me, cripple?”
“No, but this will.” The man’s hand shot out to the single holster he wore and pulled out a six gun before she had time to blink. “Back off.”
“She’s my intended bride.”
Her rescuer’s grey eyes widened in shock. “Is that true, Miss?”
“Not any more I’m not. I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t marry a woman dragging along some bastard offspring, either.” Harry swung away. “She’s all yours, cripple.” He stomped off without a backward glance.
“Thank you for saving me from that unsavory creature.” She
blinked back tears. “He sounded so gentlemanly in the letters we exchanged.”
“Mail-Order Bride?”
“Yes. It was a foolish thing for me to do, but I was desperate. I lost my job and my place to live at the same time.”
“What’s your name, son?” The man leaned over as he spoke.
“Max.”
“Howdy, Max I’m Connor.”
“Howdy, Connor. What happened to your face?”
“Max! You don’t have to tell him. I’m just so grateful you stepped in when you did. I’m much obliged.”
“I don’t like seeing men abuse women. As for this.” Connor fingered the scar which almost slashed the right side of his face in two. “I got it during the war.”
Max stared at him wide-eyed.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor,” she said. Even so, he was still a ruggedly handsome man, with black hair and grey eyes.
“It’s Connor Grey, Ma’am.”
“I’m Anna Simpson.”
“I know, I heard.”
“Call me, Anna, all my friends do. And this is Max, well you already know his name.”
“Your son?” There was no condemnation in his eyes. “Where’s his father?”
“He’s dead.”
“Ma is….”
“Shush, Max.”
“You feeling okay, Ma’am?
“Anna, please. No, I’m starting to get a headache and I think I’m getting a thick lip as well.” The slap had been so hard she was surprised it hadn’t drawn blood.
“Maybe you should sit down for a while.” He led her over to a seat. “I’ll get you a drink of water.”
“Thank you.” She watched him limp away with Max close behind him. Thank goodness he was there to save them from that drunken beast. She inwardly shuddered. What kind of life would she and Max have had married to a man like Harry Edwards? By the flashy way he was dressed he looked like a saloon owner or even a gambler.
Connor returned with a long-handled mug half full of water which he silently handed to her.
“Thank you. Max, sweetheart, you drink first.”
“I had some.”
“All right.” She gulped the water down, the coolness easing the dry dustiness of her throat.
“What do you propose doing now?” Connor asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I could stay at the hotel and catch the train to Houston tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t stay in Dry River if I were you. Harry Edwards just about owns the place. It’s a bad town that’s why I rarely come here.”
“What are you doing here, then?”
“I’m collecting hoops from the freight shed. They’ve been stored there for a few weeks. Every now and again I get a delivery from Austin.”
“What do you use them for?”
“I’m a cooper.”
She stared at him in confusion.
“I make barrels. The hoops are circles of iron to hold the barrels together. I’ve got a contract with a company in Austin. Some of my oak barrels end up in the East, most go all over the country I guess.”
“Do you live near here?”
“No. I’ve got an eight-hour drive to Davenport where I stay overnight to give the horses a good rest, then the next morning I head off. My ranch is a couple of hours further on.”
She glanced at the wagon drawn by four horses and he followed her gaze.
“I don’t like to push them hard.”
“Do you have a wife?” Anna was mortified at asking him something so personal. She couldn’t believe she had done it.
“No. What woman would marry a scarred cripple like me?”
“You’re not a scarred cripple. What a thing to call yourself.”
“It’s what most people call me.”
“I’m sure your friends wouldn’t.”
“I have few friends. I prefer my own company to be honest. I only mix with people when I have to.”
“Connor.” She touched his hand and he flinched. “What am I going to do?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Find a job in a nice town and lead a quiet life with Max. I made a grave mistake coming here.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a trained bookkeeper, but I was brought up on a ranch, meaning I can cook and keep house.”
He gnawed his lower lip.
“Could you take us to the next nearest town. I….I could pay you.”
“There isn’t any suitable town except Davenport.”
“Can you take us there?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not possible.”
“You said you’re going that way.”
“I am, but without a chaperone it wouldn’t be right for us to spend hours together.”
“I came here without a chaperone to marry a man I’d never met. You look respectable, and I think you’re a decent man. Besides, I don’t have much choice, do I? We can’t stay here.”
Max stood quietly listening to their conversation.
Was she crazy suggesting they accompany a man, she had only just met, into the wilderness? He could be a killer. He had saved her from Harry Edwards; only a decent man would do that. Compassion combined with sadness darkened his eyes to the color of a wintry sky. Connor Grey was a man who had suffered, and it showed.
He stood staring at her while she argued with herself. If she stayed here, Harry Edwards and his evil cohorts would come back. There was nothing surer. Then where would they be?
Chapter Five
Connor stared at this pretty gal, watching the inward battle she fought with herself. He knew this by the changing expression on her face. He’d like to help her. It went against everything his mother had taught him to not help a woman in distress. He couldn’t have it on his conscience to leave her here. Harry would be back once a few more whiskies put some fire in his belly. He didn’t doubt it for one moment.
Dan Perrett the station master was a decent enough man, ex-army like himself, which is why he could leave his supplies in the freight shed for longer than normal. The man had a wife and two kids and couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of Harry by helping Anna and Max.
He didn’t know what to do for the best. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
“Please take us with you.”
The soft plea somehow managed to penetrate his thoughts. Maybe he could ask her to marry him? A pretty gal like her marry the likes of him, was he loco? It would solve a lot of problems though. She and the boy needed a roof over their heads. He could provide that.
His home wasn’t too bad, old yet sound. It desperately needed a woman’s touch since his mother had passed as he wasn’t much good at cleaning the house. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to do anything except the barest of essentials.
“Connor.”
“I’m thinking.” He fiddled with his hat brim. She sure was a pretty gal and Max was a fine boy. He could have the family he craved, and had never thought possible, if she would accept his proposal. Ask her and see, Connor Grey. She can only say yes or laugh in your face.
He took a deep breath. He felt the sweat forming on his forehead. “What if. What if you were to marry me?”
“What!”
“I know we’ve only just met, but you and the boy need somewhere to live, I can provide that.”
He watched her expression of shock turn to he wasn’t sure what. “I own a small ranch and make a reasonable living as a barrel maker. I’m a hard worker, non-drinker and I would treat you right.”
“Connor, I….”
“Um, I wouldn’t expect um, relations between us until we got to know each other better.”
Anna couldn’t believe her ears. He was offering marriage. It was ridiculous and yet, he seemed like a decent man. He had kind eyes and had rescued them from her nasty would be groom.
“You don’t know him,” a little voice inside her head said. “A
t least you’ve met him, spoken to him. What other choice do you have?”
“I guess it wasn’t such a good idea. I’m not much of a catch, scarred and with a limp. Since my mother died a few months ago, my nerves seem to have gone to pieces.”
“That’s not the reason I’m hesitating. You scar isn’t as bad as you think it is, neither is your limp.” He looked so sad and dispirited and because he had suffered, he showed compassion toward others.
She wasn’t repulsed by him, quite the reverse, he made her heartbeat escalate, had spoken kindly to Max. Didn’t condemn her for having a child out of wedlock like Harry Edwards had. He wasn’t to know she had never been with a man before. “Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes, I will marry you.”
“You will?” He looked as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Suddenly he grinned and what a difference it made to him. “Well, who would have believed it. I came to collect a load of hoops for my barrels and I pick myself up a wife and son as well.”
Anna laughed. “I guess it is a little strange. I came here to marry one man and find myself marrying another.”
“Well, Max, looks like you’ve got yourself a new pa.”
Max stepped up to Connor and rubbed his head against his thigh. “I had another pa once and he died.”
“I’m sorry.” Connor leaned down to bring himself to eye level with the boy. “I don’t expect you to forget your pa, but I’d like you to think of me, as well, your second pa, but call me Connor until we get used to each other.”
“Anna is my second ma.”
Connor quickly straightened. “You’re not his mother?”
“No, but I want to be.” She quickly told him about Ginny.
“That was a real Christian thing you did.”
“I couldn’t let him go to an orphanage. The deputy in New Orleans said they were awful places.”
“What about Edwards, you let him think he was yours?”
“He didn’t give me a chance to explain, and even if he had been prepared to take Max, do you think I would take a child to live with a drunk like him?”
Deceived Mail-Order Bride Page 3