Mail-Order Matriarch

by Amelia St. James

  Finding strength she didn’t know she had, she leveled a hard stare at the men at the table and said, “Let’s say grace.”

  John put his fork down and cleared his throat while staring down his men. “Do as the lady asks.”

  Reluctantly, Samuel and Amos dropped their forks with a loud clatter. David, the quietest of the four, rested his fork on his plate and bowed his head.

  Closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath, Elly said a simple prayer over the food, hoping silently for protection during the remainder of the time the men boarded. When she’d reopened her eyes, she saw that Amos was already eating, despite the glare John cut at him.

  Unfolding her napkin, Elly turned to John and said, “What line of business are you men in?”

  Snorting, Samuel said, “The business of minding our own business, ma’am.”

  “Horse trading, Widow Bates. We’re in the business of horse trading and business is good.”

  “Is that why you had a spare horse?” Elly felt relieved, having run through many scenarios in her mind and not liking any of them.

  “That’s not why we have a spare horse.” His expression darkened. John took a roll from the serving tray in the middle of the table and bit into it, speaking before he finished chewing. “How long have you been widowed?”

  Choking on her water, Lindsay coughed and said, “That’s not appropriate table conversation, sir.”

  To Elly’s surprise, red spots appeared on John’s cheeks while his companions laughed at his expense. He didn’t respond to Lindsay’s rebuke, glaring at his men, instead.

  During the remainder of the meal, the men ate quietly and then left to go to the saloon in town while Elly began cleaning up.

  Grabbing a stack of dirty plates, Lindsay followed her into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to help. Please, allow me.” Elly reached for the plates, noticing with dismay that Lindsay’s pale hands were covered in blisters. “You need salve on those welts!”

  She hurried to her room to retrieve a tin of salve and handed it to Lindsay. “Put this on and rest, please.”

  Lindsay smiled ruefully as she opened the tin. “A few blisters won’t slow me down.”

  “Maybe not, but how are you supposed to find work as a seamstress when your hands are a mess?”

  “Ah, stop fretting. They will heal in a few days’ time, and then I can start looking for work. In the meantime, it’s probably better for us both if we stay together.”

  Nodding, Elly returned her attention to washing the dishes. “Thank you for sticking close today. The men do make me on edge, especially Amos.”

  “You’ll get through tonight just fine, then maybe you ought to be more selective with who you board in the future.” Lindsay ducked her head as if she was ashamed for speaking what she’d been thinking.

  “You’re right.” Elly stared at her hands.

  Without Alexander to offer protection, her safety fell into her own small, weak hands. She finished drying the last of the dishes and hung up her towel.

  Lindsay quietly watched Elly, a spark of determination gleaming in her eyes. “You should go on and get some rest. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

  Chills once again ran up Elly’s back, settling into her stomach in a mess of knots that left her wondering if she’d ever feel at ease again.

  Chapter Three

  Boots scuffling across the wood floor woke Elly from her fitful sleep. Her heart pounded in response to the thuds. One of the men shushed loudly as someone bumped into something and swore. Elly’s body jumped in response, despite her resolve to stay calm. Her hands clenched into tight fists, and her nails didn’t let up on her palms until she heard the doors closing overhead.

  Letting out a calming breath, Elly felt relieved that there was some distance between her and the men upstairs. The very thought of having to see them when they had been indulging in drink terrified her. She rose, her thoughts filled with worry as she paced. Lindsay was alone on the same floor as the four men, and Elly feared for her safety.

  Elly’s pulse pounded in her temple as she strained to hear any movement from upstairs. She closed her eyes and listened, uncertain if she’d heard a noise until the scuffing sound repeated. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, determining that the sound was heading toward Lindsay’s room.

  Bolting toward the door, Elly stretched to her tiptoes and pulled Alexander’s shotgun down from the pegs before unlocking her door and racing through the doorway. Once in the hallway, her stockings kept her approach quiet but made her steps slippery on the well-polished wooden floor.

  Moonlight spilled through the second story window, lighting the landing enough for Elly to see a large shadow outside Lindsay’s room.

  Keeping the figure in her sight as she ran for the stairs, Elly heard the man jiggle the door handle of Lindsay’s room. Elly realized the woman must have locked her door, too, and felt momentarily relieved.

  For a split second, she wondered if she had overreacted. She gripped the gun in both hands, the weight of it enough to make her arms begin to ache. Amos jiggled the handle again, then began to ram his shoulder into Lindsay’s door.

  “Stop it this instant!” Elly ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Only when she reached the top did she realize she was still holding the shotgun. Leveling it, she aimed at Amos and said, “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  Amos smirked, his upper lip curling in an unpleasant sneer. “You don’t have the know-how to use that thing, girl.” He turned toward the door, his shoulder pounding into it with a loud thud.

  Elly watched in horror, fear paralyzing her for a moment before her feet propelled her forward. “I said stop this instant!”

  Laughing, Amos smacked the door with both palms before lifting a boot and kicking it in, shattering the frame. He shoved past the splintered wood, disappearing out of Lindsay’s sight.

  Raising the shotgun a little higher in her tired arms and holding it like she’d seen Alexander, her heart pounded as she neared Lindsay's room. Boots thundered down the hallway behind her and she swung around, her throat constricted with fear.

  “Move!” John sped past her and entered Lindsay’s room without hesitation.

  Elly heard Amos grunt and swear as she followed behind John, her legs shaking as she raced to her friend’s side. Lindsay stood in the corner of the room, clutching a small dagger in one hand. Elly reached for Lindsay’s free hand, feeling the woman’s strength as she gave her a gentle squeeze. Thankful that she seemed unharmed, Elly turned her attention to the drunken, swearing men fighting nearby.

  John seemed to have Amos under control, but Elly didn't want to wait to be sure. Nudging Lindsay, she motioned toward the door. Both women quickly crept toward the stairs, ran down them and into Elly’s room, locking the door behind them.

  Elly put the shotgun down and lit the lamp, breathing a sigh of relief when the light chased away the shadows.

  “Here, help me push this.” Lindsay pulled the heavy wooden trunk at the foot of the bed, dragging it with a scraping sound as Elly helped her push it toward the door.

  Hair loose and wild around the neckline of her long nightgown, Lindsay faced Elly and said, “Thanks for coming for me. Nothing good comes from imbibing in strong drink, and that lot was poorly behaved when sober.”

  Elly nodded as she slowly inhaled, trying to get her nausea under control. She breathed deeply as she reached for the shotgun. It still felt like a useless weight in her hands, but she was reluctant to put it down.

  “Sit down.” Lindsay walked to the water pitcher near the bed and poured some into a mug. “Take a drink and breathe, the nausea will pass.” She handed Elly the water, taking the shotgun and holding it like it felt natural to her. She watched over Elly, slowly pacing the room.

  Doing as she was told, Elly waited until her body stopped rebelling before standing again. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  “This wasn't your doing.” She held h
er finger to her lips as she listened to the noise upstairs.

  One door slammed, then another.

  “We’ll keep watch tonight, letting the drunkards sleep it off. In the morning, we’ll get them gone and be done with them.”

  Elly squared her shoulders and nodded, saying, “Alright. I’ll take the first watch. You should get some rest.”

  Laughing softly, Lindsay replied, “I don’t need sleep as much as you. I’ll manage.”

  “You were nearly attacked in your own room. You’ve had quite a fright! You need to rest.” Elly crossed her arms in what she hoped was a convincing show of strength.

  Lindsay gasped. “And you are with child!”

  “No, I’m not.” Elly’s heart pounded in her ears as she replayed Lindsay’s words in her mind. “I can’t be,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” Lindsay’s tone was incredulous.

  Swallowing hard, Elly tried to rationalize why she couldn’t be with child, but crimson heat filled her cheeks as she realized all the signs she had been ignoring since Alexander’s passing.

  Sinking down onto the bed, she said, “I can’t be. I’m all alone.”

  Lindsay sat next to her and draped an arm across Elly’s shoulders. “I know it’s scary, but you are not alone. We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

  A tear slipped down Elly’s cheek. She was truly alone. She couldn't expect Lindsay to stay longer than a night, especially considering how she had been treated by the other boarders.

  “I don’t expect you to keep that promise, knowing how poorly you’ve been treated here.”

  Lindsay shook her head, her eyes more somber than Elly had seen since meeting the spitfire. “I’ve traveled the world, Elly, and haven’t quite felt at home ‘till coming here. I feel like God put me here, and I’m going to stay as long as I’m meant to.” She smiled and patted Elly’s hand before rising and pacing. “It’s near dawn. Those men will need to sleep it off, then they’ll be heading out if I have to go get the Sheriff myself.” Chin set in determination, Lindsay paused in her pacing and pushed the checkered curtain aside.

  “He won’t help.” Elly’s soft voice did little to take the sting out of her words, even to her own ears. “The men won’t get anything more than a pat on the back before they start in about how a lone woman shouldn’t be able to run a boarding house.”

  Lindsay shifted the shotgun in her hands. “Have they tried to take it from you?”

  Elly shook her head. “I inherited the home from my parents. Alexander and I turned it into a boarding house shortly after we got married. Though it does chafe the men of the town that I own this large house on my own.” Elly wondered again how Alexander had incurred so much debt, wishing she could know for certain if it was real or if it was an underhanded trick to force her to sell her home.

  Lindsay grinned broadly. “Let them chafe.”

  The first rays of dawn began to filter into the room, and Elly breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I kept you up when you should have been resting.”

  Elly put a hand over her abdomen, the reminder of the new life forming there filling her with excitement and uncertainty in equal measures.

  “I can’t sleep a wink until the men have gone.” She stood and reached for her mourning garments. “I’d better get breakfast started.”

  “Are you sure? I can make it while you stay here. Those men are going to get a skillet to the head if they come near me again.”

  “This is my home. I’m not cowering in a locked room while the men roam free. Here, you can borrow a dress so you don’t have to go back upstairs until they’ve gone.” Elly handed Lindsay her spare dress before turning her back for privacy. As she fastened the last button, she heard the scraping sound of the trunk.

  “Here, let me help.”

  The two women worked in the kitchen side by side with Lindsay never more than an arm’s reach from the shotgun. Elly had begun to cut fresh loaves of bread into thick slices when she heard boots stomping on the stairs. She dropped her knife, stepping back quickly when it clattered to the floor.

  “Grab it.” Lindsay’s voice was a harsh whisper as she reached for the gun, propping it up against her shoulder. She backed over to Elly, standing guard.

  John walked through the kitchen door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Heavy footsteps on the stairs echoed down the hallway behind him.

  “Morning, ladies. I owe you an apology for all of the ruckus last night. There won’t be any more trouble out of my men.” He looked behind him as Amos entered the room, glowering at John with one eye nearly swollen shut.

  “I know there won’t be any trouble. You men are leaving as soon as you get your breakfast.” Lindsay pointed to the sliced bread and said, “There it is. Grab some on your way out.”

  Elly raised her eyebrows, wondering how the small woman grew to be so fearless. She glanced at John in time to catch him stifling a smile.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be gone just as soon as we settle up the bill. Amos, you owe the lady an apology.”

  Amos grunted, his nose wrinkling in disgust, lifting his stained mustache. “Sorry.”

  John pulled money from his pants pocket and held it out for Elly, who took it and quickly stepped back to stand next to Lindsay.

  “And you’ll pay her for the door you destroyed.” Lindsay’s face was red with anger, but the shotgun in her hands remained steady.

  Slowly, John nodded. “That’s fitting. Pay the woman, Amos.”

  Amos pulled several bills from his boot and held them out for Elly, dropping them as she reached for them.

  “Sorry.” Amos laughed as Elly bent to retrieve them, causing heat to race up her back in a flash of anger.

  She straightened and stared at him, gripping the knife tightly as he spit tobacco juice on the floor on his way out the door behind John.

  As the bell clanged behind the last man out, Elly looked back at Lindsay. Her boarder looked small and fragile from across the room, though Elly knew the woman was anything but.

  “How’d you get the nerve to stand up to them like that?”

  Nodding slightly, Lindsay said, “I’ve been through worse.”

  Chapter Four

  Elly woke long before dawn the next day, despite her exhaustion. She curled onto her side and reached her hand over to Alexander’s half of the bed, imagining for a moment that he had just left the room and his warmth remained. Swallowing hard as her hand moved across the cold sheet, she wanted to tell him that he was going to be a father. The emptiness inside of her began to fill with hesitant excitement over the tiny life forming, but a new gaping hole remained.

  The baby she and Alexander had made would never know their father.

  Tears began to fall, but she swiped angrily at them. She pushed herself off the feather mattress and listened for movement upstairs. She expected Lindsay to sleep in after the hard labor the two of them had put into cleaning up after the men yesterday, and she didn’t want to chance waking the woman.

  Elly lit the lantern next to her bed before hastily dressing and lacing up her work boots. Walking as quietly as she could, she went to the small room that had been her father’s study. It had been unused by Alexander and she rarely entered, finding it difficult to be surrounded by reminders of her parents.

  The door stuck momentarily, requiring a swift shove to open it with a squeak. Pausing to listen for Lindsay, Elly waited for several heartbeats before walking into the room.

  A thick layer of dust covered everything, and guilt for her neglect felt overwhelming. She pushed past a wave of nausea and looked around, hoping to take comfort from the things her parents had left for her.

  The thought of sitting at her father’s desk in front of his neat ledger made her heart pound with her own failings. Debt threatened the security of the very home he’d worked hard to purchase, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. Instead, she sat on the floor near an old trunk of her mother’s and ran her fingers over the initials carv
ed into it. She had tried to sort through it shortly after her mother’s passing but had found it too difficult.

  Taking a deep breath, Elly lifted the trunk lid and pushed aside the cloth tucked over the contents. The tiny gown she was christened in was on top. Elly had left it hastily the last time she opened the trunk, the sight reminding her of all she had lost.

  This time the gown reminded her of her baby, and she felt a small smile turn up her lips. Having her baby wear the gown made by her mother’s own hands was something to look forward to.

  “What is this?” Lindsay stood in the doorway, her curls piled haphazardly on top of her head. Though the woman was surely tired, she smiled gently.

  “It was my father’s study, but we stored things here for safekeeping.” Elly held up the gown. “My mother made this for me.”

  Lindsay sat by her and took the hem between her fingers, turning it to examine it in the lamplight. “What fine stitching. Was your mother a seamstress?”

  “She was back in Ireland. She didn’t work outside of the home after she married my father.”

  Lindsay stood and walked around the room, staying in the glow cast by the lamp. “I like this room. It’s cozy.”

  “It is. It doesn’t feel right being in my father’s place, though.”

  “Elly, it’s your place now. You should use it, if you like it.” Lindsay sat near the trunk again, closing the lid to examine the initials carved on the top. “I’ve seen trunks crafted like this before, but not since leaving Ireland.” She reverently ran her hands along the top. “When I was a kid, I climbed into one like this to hide from my brother.”

  “It sounds like a great hiding spot.” Elly smiled, imagining growing up with a sibling to play with.

  “It was awful. I couldn’t lift the heavy lid off. When my brother finally found me, I was hysterical.” Lindsay shook her head. “He was afraid he would be punished for making me cry. So, he calmed me down by showing me a secret.”