Removing the towel, the barber stroked the razor over his face to reveal the square jaw and chiseled face hidden below the growth of beard. Next, he trimmed Bode’s hair short before parting it down the middle. With a pat of bay rum on his customer’s cheeks, Heinz whipped away the cloth covering Bode with the style of a showman. All that was missing would be the call of “ta-dah!”
The face staring back at him looked younger, reminding him that he’d grown the beard to hide his true age. Maybe a younger, cleaner face and form would impress his reluctant wife.
His wife! She certainly wasn’t turning out to be much of a helpmate. He’d explained why they needed to marry again and how desperately he counted on receiving the funds Cyrus held hostage. Her moods seemed mercurial since she’d agreed with him and then suddenly declared she wanted time to get to know him.
He swallowed a growl of frustration and turned to Heinz with a smile on his clean face. “Fantastic work, man. A bath should finish off my transformation and woo my new wife.” Paying the grinning barber, who no doubt savored this tidbit of information, he left.
Stopping by his upstairs room in The Ferryman, he picked up the black suit he seldom wore and the white shirt he only used with the suit. The shirt’s collar had begun to yellow, reminding him that it had been several months since he’d worn it.
As he turned to leave the room, Fifi entered and shut the door behind her. “Eez quite the change.” She ran a hand tenderly over Bode’s smooth cheek.
At her touch, he moved back and away from her hand. She’d been overly friendly in the past with him. He’d simply thought that was how she treated every man. Today, she gave off the feeling of being a predator. “What do you want and why aren’t you downstairs serving drinks?”
She unfurled her fan. Holding it in front of her face, she batted sooty eyelashes at him. “It is you I want to serve, not those swine below. After all, am I not your wife?”
Shock caused his brain to freeze. Wife? Then he remembered the proxy ceremony. “You only stood in for my wife, Fifi. I thought you understood when I explained it. The judge spoke Violet’s name, not yours.”
Her lips formed a pout and she stood her ground. Reaching around her, Bode opened the door and slipped past to leave his room. He’d have a talk with Rex about firing the girl as he sensed trouble on the wind.
At the bottom of the main stairs, he entered the bar area. Rex leaned against the counter, watching the room. Striding over to him, Bode filled him in on the scene with Fifi and asked him to let her go. The man nodded. “She’s not selling many drinks and has suggested more than once for customers to visit Arnold’s Place. Something’s rotten with that woman for sure.”
Even while Rex agreed with him about Fifi, the man was less than happy about Violet. Bode explained that his plans for a quick annulment had changed. He invited his partner to the Sunday wedding and the man called him a fool for hitching his wagon with “some strange woman who’s probably no better than Fifi.”
Now, after the trouble with the saloon girl and that conversation with Rex, the warm bath soothed him. He wished time had allowed for him to visit it before going to the barbershop so the bay rum hadn’t been washed off. Still, better to be clean all over when he went courting.
Dressed and ready to impress Violet, he left the bathhouse. His pockets were empty and the emporium had already closed so he couldn’t buy her chocolates or a hair ribbon. Also, it was too late in the year for flowers. Empty-handed, he approached the door.
At his knock, Miss Andersen opened the door. The smell of baked chicken wafted out, making his stomach grumble and reminding him he hadn’t eaten that day.
Her clipped tone was less than welcoming. “Mr. Parker, how may I help you?” Even if her impassive stare might intimidate others, he was determined to see Violet.
“I want to visit with my wife. Hopefully, she’d like a stroll.” His charming smile didn’t dent the woman’s emotionless expression, he noticed with disappointment.
“We are just now sitting down to supper. Mrs. Parker is not available.” She moved to shut the door in his face.
Quickly sticking his scuffed boot into the door, his mind scrambled for any excuse to get inside. The perfect reason came to him in a flash. “Mrs. Parker wants to get to know me better. Certainly, she should be allowed to judge my table manners, and as I have yet to eat this evening...”
Rather than a smile, he fixed a serious and concerned expression on his face as his voice trailed off. This seemed to impress the landlady more than his earlier attempt at charm. She silently stepped aside to allow him into the house. Once the door had closed with a click that echoed in the foyer, she led him to a dining room where five women waited for their hostess’ return.
His eyes sought for Violet. In the light from the oil lamps, the golden highlights in her hair sparkled. Uncertainty, recognition, and shock all took their turns on her face. That last expression filled him with hope. Appreciation. He could tell his transformation had indeed impressed her.
“Ladies, Mr. Parker will be a guest at our table this evening.” She hesitated before using the word guest, emphasizing to him that he had invited himself to join them.
When he moved to sit near Violet, his hostess stopped him. “No, you will sit across from Mrs. Parker. I think that is the best way for you to assess each other.”
While Bode did get an excellent meal without paying for it, he felt frustrated at not being able to converse with his wife. She returned each smile he gave her and seemed happy to have him there. That was his only consolation.
After supper, she pleaded fatigue. Though he accepted the excuse graciously, he begged her to step outside with him. Pulling her shawl closely about her shoulders, she followed him out to stand on Miss Andersen’s wraparound porch.
“There’s one way that I think will help you get to know me better. I hope you are willing to try it.” He coaxed her with his voice and her eyes turned into soft pools of warm chocolate. She nodded without asking for an explanation, leaning into him as if mesmerized by the warmth of his voice.
Putting his palms on either side of her face, he lowered his lips to hers. Their softness pleased him as did her willingness to return the slow and achingly tender kiss.
Breaking off the kiss, he pulled back to see her, wanting to gauge her reaction to their intimacy. She stood with eyes closed and lips still puckered, as if in a dream. Unable to resist, he lowered his head again and increased the pressure of his mouth against hers.
The loud clearing of the landlady’s throat broke them apart. “Such goings-on don’t belong on a spinster lady’s porch. Off with you and let this girl get some rest.”
He cast Miss Andersen a sheepish grin before giving one final kiss to the back of Violet’s soft hand. “I’ll wish you both a good evening then.” With a whistle, he almost skipped down the porch steps.
His mind replayed that kiss as he walked backward down the short path from the porch, grinning at Violet all the while. It was no wonder he almost missed seeing the wagon veer purposefully toward him.
Chapter 5
The scream lodged in Violet’s throat. She pointed at the wagon and tried to get a warning to leave her mouth. At the terror he saw on her face, Bode followed her pointing finger and dodged a few seconds before the wagon reached him.
The hooded driver shook his fist in her husband’s direction and loudly uttered words that she had never heard. From the angry tone, she guessed them to be expletives of some kind.
Lifting her skirt, she raced down the path. Her husband was pulling himself out of Miss Andersen’s Bridal Wreath bush. Once on his feet, he straightened his suit jacket as he gazed thoughtfully at the disappearing vehicle.
Miss Andersen, who’d also witnessed the incident, stood helplessly nearby. The tough spinster wrung her hands with worry. “Oh dear! That was so like what happened to my father.” She watched the wagon disappear by the last light of dusk. “Father didn’t have a comfortable Spirea bush to fa
ll into like you did, young man. A carriage ran him over one night after he left that dreadful Mr. Arnold’s tavern.”
From the look that came over Bode, the woman’s words must have triggered some memory. He pounded one fist against his palm and his lips thinned with anger. “Thank you, Miss Andersen. You may have provided the identity of that driver.”
She looked confused but happy to help, smiling before her typically stoic expression returned. Wishing him a safe night, she climbed the porch steps and entered the house.
Visibly shaking, Violet stood with a hand laid flat over her heart. “Are the roads usually so dangerous here?” She tried to turn her question into a joke but worry kept that from happening.
Her husband left off staring after the wagon and took her hand. He tucked it into his arm and patted it. “Rex and I have made a certain competitor angry. I didn’t think he’d try anything like this, even though he told me to watch my back.”
Violet couldn’t believe the offer she opened her mouth to make to him. Seeing his near brush with death had rattled her. Exhaustion fogged her brain and must account for what she said next. “Please don’t leave tonight. That man could be lying in wait a block over.”
Raising an eyebrow quizzically, he searched her eyes. “Do you understand that taking me to your room ties us together? Whether we suit or not, no matter that I own a saloon, we’ll be together for life.”
By her expression, he could tell that she had mixed emotions. Her words confirmed it. “No one will know that you stayed with me. Not if you sneak in and then leave early in the morning.”
He sighed and moved her hand from his arm. “You haven’t decided. I’ll say goodnight and be on my way.”
Head held high, he took a few, quick strides away from her. A sob behind him slowed his steps. The touch on his arm caused him to look over his shoulder.
“I still want our wedding on Sunday.” He nodded before realizing she couldn’t make out the motion in the darkness that settled around them. Taking a hold of her shoulders, he kissed her quickly and stepped back.
The moment was like a first impression to Bode. She needed to know he was a man of his word. “You asked, and I agreed to wait. More than anything, I want you to believe I am a man of my word.”
The darkness of the moonless night swallowed him whole as he moved away from her. Violet quickly made her way into the house, muttering aloud prayer for witless men who strain the Lord’s grace and mercy. She would wash and then get some needed sleep. Tomorrow things might seem different to her. Perhaps then she’d even be glad rather than sad and regretful that he’d refused her offer.
Sunlight flooded the room through the east-facing window the next morning. Always an early riser, the amount of light taunted her as a slug-a-bed that day. She stretched and felt her sore muscles from her long journey. Oh, but it had been heavenly to sleep in a bed after sitting up for several days and nights on the train.
Also, it felt good to wake up alone. No matter the strong draw she felt for Bode, she wanted to maintain some leverage in the relationship. Otherwise, for all she knew, he’d have her living and working in his saloon.
And with thoughts of leverage in mind, she determined to obtain her dowry that day, even if she needed to telegraph Judge Morgan to make it happen. She knew Western Union had something called telegraphic transfers. From reading an article about it in the newspaper, she remembered that passwords and codebooks were involved somehow in getting the money from one telegraph office to another.
After enjoying a cup of coffee and a few cookies in Miss Andersen’s kitchen, Violet fixed her bonnet in place and wrapped her wool cloak more closely around her. While the sun shone brightly, the brisk cold of autumn nipped at her cheeks.
Once at the telegraph office, Violet used part of her dwindling funds to send wires to both Gladys and Cyrus. She specified a three-hour window of time for her funds to reach her by wire or she would be sure that Judge Morgan was notified of their perfidy. Telling the young man across the counter that she wanted to specify that a response to the telegrams should be required on the other end, Violet handed the paper to him. When the telegrapher read the message, his eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure you can wire five thousand dollars, ma’am. It’s a fact that I don’t have that much on hand.”
Adopting Aunt Tessie’s manner of dealing with problems, she stood silently for a moment before she answered him. The gawky youth pulled at his paper collar. “Well, we shall find out, won’t we?”
She listened with a great deal of satisfaction to the tapping of the telegraph key. After the message was sent, she flashed the employee a smile and told him to bring any responses to The Ferryman.
“Ma’am, The Ferryman? Are you sure?” Unwilling to explain herself, she fixed him a stern look until he nodded that he understood her instructions. Then with the rustle of her black taffeta and starched petticoats, she left the telegraph office.
As she walked along and stared into the few store windows, a thought occurred to her. She hadn’t daydreamed even once since arriving in Nebraska City. Hopefully, it meant she was maturing quickly into this new role she found herself playing as a wife.
She walked up the main street toward the sign waving in the fall breeze that identified The Ferryman. When she passed a small building whose signage simply read Barber, a small balding man hurried out the door. He couldn’t think she would be a customer!
The little man bowed to her. “You wouldn’t happen to be connected with a certain Mr. Parker, would you ma’am?” His voice held a hopeful tone along with something else that went beyond curiosity.
“I…I am.” Startled, she answered him without giving away any details. The old man’s face wrinkled with displeasure. Was he upset that she and Parker had married?
The man’s eyes narrowed and he tried again. “Heard tell he got a wife he’s tryin’ to spark. That you?” As he spoke he leaned toward Violet who backed up a step or two.
Aunt Tessie had warned her to always be on guard with gossiping women who seemed friendly in order to ferret out information. While he was a man and not a woman, this barber reminded her of that and she carefully chose her words. “I did arrive as a bride for Mr. Parker. He’s waiting for me now so I must be off.” Wherever he was, she felt sure Bode wanted to see her so that it wouldn’t be a lie to say he was waiting.
Even as the man began another question, Violet hunched her shoulders as if she expected a blow and scurried away. After passing two more shops, she slowed her steps and let out her breath. What an odd man! Why would anyone care about her relationship with Bode?
Hesitantly, Violet pushed the unlocked red door open and entered her husband’s business. She repeated the word in her mind—business. Don’t think of it as a tavern. Remember it’s merely a business. The thought didn’t prevent a shudder from going through her nor did it keep her from touching her hair for comfort as she saw bottles lining the wall behind a long counter.
At the sound of the door, a red-haired man rose from a chair at one of the maple tables and came to greet her. “How can I help you, miss? Do you perhaps need a job?”
A crawling feeling went through her at his question. If Bode needed workers, he would have to look somewhere other than to his wife. “No. Thank you, but I am looking for my husband.”
A gleam entered the man’s eyes as he rudely took her measure. Speculation seemed the best name for his look. What was this man considering as he stared rudely?
Moments passed before he spoke. When he did, he grinned smugly at her as if satisfied by something he saw. “I’m his partner, Rex Kearney.” While she expected him to present his hand to shake, the man surprised her by grabbing her gloved one and kissing the back of it in a grandiloquent gesture.
Flashing her what he no doubt considered a suave grin, Rex postured before her. “He’s upstairs. Allow me to check that he’s alone—I mean presentable—before you go up to his room.”
Rather than moving to the stairs, the man watched her fa
ce. He reminded her of Cyrus Bingham for just a moment and she searched her mind to understand why. Perhaps it was because the man seemed to expect a certain reaction to his words like the lawyer had when he told her that the bank account didn’t belong to her. The comparison caused alarm to race through her. She did not like this man!
Finally, the grinning man ascended the staircase and left her to the doubts she knew must have been evident in her expression. Why had the man implied that her husband often slept with women? She believed that was what he’d meant. Had she misjudged Bode? He hadn’t had the roguish air she’d expect a cad to possess. True, she lacked worldly experience, yet he struck her as a focused businessman rather than a playboy.
He wants to drive me away from Bode! This thought flitted into her mind and logically had to be the partner’s motivation. His reason, however, remained less obvious. She’d watch him for the answer.
She dismissed Rex Kearney’s odd behavior from her mind and focused on the man’s mention of Bode’s room. He didn’t have a house! She would need to live above the tavern unless Gladys sent her dowry as promised so they could rent a house. Imagining a house much like Miss Andersen’s, she saw Bode and herself sipping lemonade on a summer evening as they sat in the porch swing. He kissed her cheek and thanked her for being the perfect wife as he gently pushed the swing for them with his foot.
Footsteps on the stairs brought her out of the daydream. Her husband appeared in rumpled work clothes. Except for when he wore the black suit, the man seemed to always be dirty.
She met him at the bottom of the stairs. With Rex following close behind him, Violet flashed that man a challenging stare over her husband’s shoulder before she surprised him by standing on her tiptoes to kiss her spouse’s cheek. Pulling away from Bode, she noticed that Rex grinned arrogantly at her and arched one eyebrow in challenge. This man was up to something. She felt it in her bones.
A Bride For Bode (The Proxy Brides Book 21) Page 4