Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  It was no reason not to go and speak to the man, she realized. That had to be done, regardless. To stay away and refuse to talk to him might only bring suspicion. Still, she couldn’t get rid of the fear that Gus Jamieson was going to try and find out everything she knew about Laurel for the singular reason that he was afraid she might know the truth – that Laurel had chosen to hide from him.

  Etta still had no idea what the significance of the brooch was, nor why Laurel had insisted she take it, but for the time being at least, she’d keep both it and the telegram a secret. That meant not a word about either of them to Reuben, especially since he was very good friends with Gus.

  “Here we go.”

  Reuben bounded up towards her, climbing the boulders with ease. He sat beside her as she threw her shawl about her shoulders, feeling the cool air of the evening begin to brush at her cheeks.

  “We’ll be back in town before it gets too cold,” Reuben said, reassuring her. “Now you watch. The sunset is about to begin.”

  “But it’s behind us,” Etta replied, twisting her head. “Is that what I’m meant to be watching?”

  Reuben chuckled and grasped her hand, and Etta’s head spun back around to face the hills. Heat crept into her cheeks as Reuben let his hand lie on top of her own, sending flurries of warmth up her arm.

  “Now, you just fix your eyes on them hills there,” Reuben said quietly, as though something wonderous was about to happen. “Don’t look away. Trust me; you’ll not want to miss a single moment of this.”

  Etta wanted to ask a good many questions about what he was talking about but wisely chose to remain absolutely silent. She watched the hills carefully, seeing the sunlight touch the very top of the peaks as the sun began to sink below the horizon behind her.

  “Oh!”

  Her breath caught in her chest as slowly, so very slowly, the sunlight began to make its way down the hills, covering them in light. A light that appeared to turn the hills into peaks of copper and bronze. It was the most extraordinary sight.

  “Don’t ask me how it happens,” Reuben whispered in her ear, as though he didn’t want to break the moment by speaking aloud. “Those hills don’t got much grass or the like on ‘em. Seems like they’re made up of mostly dust and sand and can look awful ugly during the day. But then come up here in the evening and they’ve got a beauty all of their own.”

  Etta couldn’t speak, her heart overflowing with overwhelming delight. This was truly breathtaking, she realized, her hand tightening in Reuben’s as the sun continued to turn the hills into copper. She didn’t want to look away; she didn’t want to miss a single minute of the beautiful sight.

  And then, it was over. The sun disappeared, the light faded, and a chill came over them both. Reuben smiled and got to his feet, helping Etta to stand.

  “So,” he asked, as she held her shawl tightly around her shoulders. “What did you think?”

  “I think I know why the town is called ‘Copper Peaks’ now,” Etta replied with a smile. “It really is beautiful.”

  He looked at her, the smile slowly fading from his face. “Yes,” he murmured, softly. “Beautiful.”

  Etta felt a slow flush of heat rise within her, starting right at her toes and going all the way to the top of her head. She couldn’t look at him, not when he was standing so close to her. Those words hadn’t been about the landscape, she was sure of it, and yet, it was all so sudden, so quick. Etta hadn’t ever really fallen in love before, or even found a man attractive in that way. However, standing there with Reuben, she wondered if what she was feeling was the very beginning of something like that.

  Reuben cleared his throat, a gruff noise that broke the silence. Stepping away from her, he shrugged, as though to clear his own thoughts and the tense awkwardness that had settled over them. “Reckon we’d best be getting on back,” he said, not looking at her. “Come on. It’ll get dark soon, and we don’t want to be out here.”

  Etta nodded but said nothing, feeling herself almost anxious as they began to walk together down the path towards the town. Reuben didn’t offer her his hand this time and, even if he had, Etta wasn’t sure she’d have taken it. She was already unsettled about Reuben’s nearness as they’d watched the sunset.

  Hettie was waiting for them, with a steaming pot of coffee and a few cakes left over from her morning baking before she’d opened the store.

  “Well?” she asked, smiling at Etta. “What did you think?”

  “Oh, it was wonderful!” Etta exclaimed, as Reuben closed the door behind them. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely in all my life. I’m sure of it!”

  Hettie looked pleased. “I’m so glad you liked it. This town has got the prettiest sunset in all the world, I’m sure. Now, come and sit down. I’ve got the coffee all ready.” Glancing over at her son, she gave him a quick smile. “You joining us, Reuben?”

  As Etta looked over at him, she saw that his face was lined with indecision, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind what to do. She gave him a small, encouraging smile, hoping that he didn’t feel put off coming in just because she was here.

  As if seeing her smile and bolstered by her encouragement, Reuben nodded, pulled off his hat, and came to sit down.

  “I’d best be getting on back soon though,” he said, reaching for a cake already. “The horses will need to be put back into the barn.”

  Etta listened to mother and son talking for a while, thinking to herself that both of them seemed very kind and caring. There was obviously a lot of love in this home, a lot of trust. Did she – or would she – ever be able to find that same kind of trust with someone else, or even with them? Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Etta remembered the brooch and telegram she’d carefully placed in the bottom of the wooden chest Hettie had given her. She’d pinned the brooch to the telegram itself and then had wrapped the telegram up in one of her shawls. All her other clothes and things were on top.

  There was no way anyone would find it, even if they went looking – and she certainly didn’t expect anyone to come in Hettie’s store and start rifling through Etta’s things. And yet, Etta was driven with the urge to protect it, fearing that the person written about in the telegram was someone in this here town. In fact, Etta was a little bit afraid that the person who Laurel had said she “had to be sure of” was none other than Gus Jamieson, the man she was about to meet.

  Of course, other than that, she had very little idea about what she was meant to do with the brooch and the telegram, other than keep it hidden – but still, something was gnawing away at her, desperate to know who it was that had written the telegram in the first place and why the brooch was so desperately important. She had no one to ask since no one knew that she had the brooch or that she’d had such an important conversation with Laurel on the stagecoach, but still that idea lingered.

  Laurel had begged her not to tell anyone about it, but she’d never actually agreed to that. It was quite a burden to bear, especially if she had to go and speak to Mr. Jamieson about things.

  Her eyes passed over to Hettie, who had already become something of a friend in the two days they’d known each other. She could talk to her about it, but she was quite sure that Hettie would want Reuben to know about it all, if not the sheriff. Reuben had said he was good friends with Gus Jamieson, which meant that he’d immediately ignore any suggestion that Gus could be a danger to Laurel for whatever reason. No, she decided, it was best to keep those things to herself for the moment.

  Looking up, Etta realized, to her embarrassment, that both Reuben and Hettie were looking at her, evidently waiting for her to say something.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, as she took the coffee cup Hettie held out to her. “I was just lost in thought. What were you saying?”

  Reuben’s eyes were fixed on hers, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes although he tried to keep a relaxed air about him. “I was just asking if you’d heard about the dance next week.”

  “The dance?” Etta re
peated, a little surprised. “No, I haven’t heard about it – but then again, I’ve only been here for a couple of days.”

  Hettie smiled. “I ought to have told you, Etta. There’s a dance this time every year, just around the start of fall. You’re welcome to come along. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know the rest of the townsfolk.”

  Etta smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” Turning her gaze onto Reuben, she lifted one brow enquiringly. “Are you much of a dancer, Reuben?”

  To her surprise, he blushed and shook his head. “No, I’m not dancing. I never dance.”

  “But why not?” she asked, as Hettie chuckled and shook her head. “What’s wrong with it?”

  He shrugged. “I just can’t. Not something I’ve ever been interested in, really.”

  “Then I’ll teach you,” Etta replied enthusiastically. “Then you won’t have any kind of excuse.”

  Hettie laughed aloud. “She’s got you there, Reuben. What are you gonna do now? Refuse a pretty girl?”

  Reuben had, by now, gone almost scarlet, and Etta couldn’t help but laugh along with Hettie. There was no way out for Reuben now. He’d have to let her teach him, and the thought of him holding her in his arms almost took her breath away.

  “When do we start?” Reuben grunted, his eyes darting towards her for only a second before going away again. “I’m warning you now; I’m bound to step on your toes. I’m not exactly light as a feather.”

  Etta grinned. “That’s not about to put me off, Reuben. We can start whenever you like.”

  “How about on Saturday evening then?” he asked with a slight lift of his brow. “I said I’d take you to see Gus before the week’s end. We could go there first and do… dancing…after.”

  Her happiness evaporated in a moment. She didn’t want to see Gus, still afraid that he was the one Laurel was afraid of.

  “I can make sure you both get some dinner in-between times,” Hettie commented with a smile. “It means you won’t have to worry about fixing yourself something to eat.

  It seemed there wasn’t much she could do to get out of it. “Thank you, Hettie,” Etta finally said, resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to go and see Gus no matter how little she wanted to. “I reckon Saturday will be just fine.”

  “That’ll give you a full week to try and get my boy to learn to dance,” Hettie laughed, shooting Reuben a wry look. “I wish you the best of luck, Etta. I reckon you’re going to need it!"

  5

  “Here we are.”

  Etta sucked in a breath as she pulled her horse to a stop next to Reuben’s horse. The ranch was huge, and there were men working everywhere she looked.

  “This all belongs to Mr. Jamieson?” she asked, slinging one leg over the saddle and jumping down onto the ground. “This whole ranch is his?”

  She turned towards Reuben, who was looking at her with surprise.

  “What?” she asked, feeling his eyes still linger on her as color mounted in her cheeks. “For heaven’s sake, Reuben, what’s the matter?”

  He cleared his throat, adjusting the tilt of his hat as his eyes darted away. “I just… I just thought a lady liked to be helped down from the saddle.”

  Etta laughed, her eyes twinkling up at him. “I’m afraid this girl doesn’t wait for a man to come and help her,” she replied, as he grinned at her a little self-consciously. “I spent most of my life having to do pretty much everything by myself. My father became ill when I was only twelve, and since then, I had to learn to do most things alone.”

  He tipped his head, his eyes growing sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, one hand reaching for her shoulder. “Sounds like you had it tough.”

  She shrugged, just as his hand brushed down the length of her arm in what she thought was a sympathetic gesture. “My mother was a seamstress, and so I took after her. We brought in as much money as we could to help the family.”

  “And your brother?” he asked, looping his horse’s reins over a post. “Didn’t you say you’ve got an older brother?”

  Etta smiled sadly. “He wasn’t much use. Always too busy trying to find out where he could make his next quick buck from. I think that’s why the pull of the gold was too strong for him to resist. Hard work, but the chance of making a lot of money. He was never one for settling down.”

  Reuben smiled at her. “You’re independent though, Etta. That’s a good thing. You’ve got a strong character.”

  She smiled at him, her sadness over her brother’s absence fading away. “You’ve only known me for about a week!” she exclaimed, laughing up at him. “Maybe I’m not as strong as you think.”

  He didn’t smile back but rather just watched her for a moment or two before heading on up the porch steps. Etta’s laughter died away as he rapped on the door of the house before walking straight inside.

  “Gus?”

  “Reuben!” came another voice – a strong, determined voice. “Come in. Did you bring that woman with you?”

  Etta’s brows furrowed as she walked inside, seeing a broad-shouldered man move towards them. He was stout and not particularly tall, but his narrow eyes and long, thin nose seemed quite out of place in his otherwise stocky build.

  “Etta,” she said, as Gus looked at her with thin, sharp eyes. “I hear you wanted to talk to me about Laurel.”

  Gus’s eyes narrowed all the more. “How do you know her name?”

  Etta’s frown deepened, her worries growing stronger as she looked into Gus’s face and found that she disliked what she saw there. “I heard her name from Reuben,” she replied calmly. “She didn’t tell me her name when we were on the stagecoach.”

  “And where were you coming from?” Gus asked, folding his hands across his chest and staring at her with a deep intensity. “From the same place as Laurel?”

  “I-I don’t know where she was coming from,” Etta answered quickly. “We both got on the stage at Winchton.”

  Gus studied her for a moment. “And you’re telling me that she said nothing to you? How long is the journey to Copper Peaks?”

  Etta held her hands behind her back, clenching them together tightly as she felt her anxiety begin to rise. “It’s a good few hours, but we traveled in silence. I slept for a bit. I’d been traveling for a good long while, and I was tired.” She shot a glance towards Reuben, who was regarding his friend with a slightly concerned expression on his face.

  “Etta had been traveling for days to get here, Gus,” he said firmly. “You know how it can be on long journeys. Not much is said by anyone.”

  Gus shook his head. “It sure is hard to believe that nothing passed between the two of ‘em,” he said, as though Etta wasn’t in the room. “Are you sure you’re not keeping anything from me?”

  Etta drew herself up, determined to appear as though she’d been deeply insulted, when the truth was that, yes, she was keeping a good deal back from Gus Jamieson. “Listen, I was as surprised as anyone when she just rapped on the roof and stopped the stage,” she said firmly. “The next thing I know, she’s off the stagecoach. The driver had a horse for her, which I reckon she must have arranged in advance. She seemed to know where she was going after that, although I can’t say where that would be. I don’t know this place much at all.” Holding her gaze steady, she looked into Gus’s eyes and found that, the more she studied his features, the more she disliked them. The man’s eyes were small and narrow just as they were, but when he attempted to narrow them all the more, they became nothing more than two black slits that seemed to bore into her. His jaw was set, his expression filled with dislike and mistrust, but still Etta chose not to say a single word more.

  “Gus,” Reuben interrupted, taking a step closer to Etta. “I think Etta’s told you everything she knows. That’s exactly what she told me, and the stagecoach driver said much the same. All he did was stop just when the rap came on the roof, and then he helped her up onto the horse he’d been told to take along with them.”

 
“I know,” Gus snarled, evidently surprising Reuben just as much as Etta, for he took an involuntary step back. “I spoke to him already. He says Laurel paid him to take the horse along and then helped her up onto it when she knocked. That’s all there is, supposedly, but the truth is, my Laurel seems to have gone missing and no one knows where she’s gone, not even the lady who was in the very same stage as her.”

  “Is Laurel your wife?” Etta inquired, albeit a little tentatively.

  Gus snorted. “No, but she ought to be.”

  “Ought to be?” Reuben repeated, his tone darkening. “Gus, you told me that Laurel was your brother’s wife. I–”

  “My late brother’s wife,” Gus said, with a good deal of firmness. One hand reached towards Etta, his finger shaking at her as though she were a child in need of a good telling off. “She’s the only family I have left. I have to know where she is.”

  Etta tried to sound sympathetic, even though her dislike of the man was growing with almost every minute. “I can understand that,” she replied softly. “I’ve only a brother left, and where he is in the world, I can’t tell you.”

  Something in Gus’s eyes flickered, and he seemed to soften, his shoulders relaxing about him just a little. “You’ll come back and tell me if you remember anything more?”

  “Of course I will,” Etta promised, ignoring the stab of guilt that knifed through her chest at just how disingenuous she was being. She had to protect Laurel, even though she knew as little about her as she did about Gus. Until Laurel came to collect her brooch, she’d not say a word to Gus about her. “I’m sorry I ain’t got more to tell you.”

  Gus shook his head and turned away, waving at her to go. Etta stood where she was for a moment, feeling as if Gus had slapped her hard across the face with such a rude dismissal, before turning on her heel and quickly walking out of the ranch.

  Once outside, the warm air brushed across her cheeks, doing nothing to cool her anger. Gus had been both rude and angry, not speaking to her kindly even once. He’d shot questions at her and hadn’t once thanked her for coming out to the ranch to talk to him. She felt glad she’d not said a word about the telegram and the brooch, feeling quite certain that Gus wasn’t exactly the kindest of men.