Rustlers and Ribbons
Page 6
That didn’t explain, though, why she wanted to hear his opinions on everything and why she had put a bookmark in the text she was reading so she could ask him his thoughts on it later. It didn’t explain why she’d been waiting for him to come home, staring outside her window and wishing on every one of them that she’d know what to do.
It was time for her to admit it and to stop being prideful. She was in love with Gabriel Brody. All right, she’d said it, and now what? Nothing had changed. She was still just one half of the equation, and not a very powerful one at that.
She tried to read, and couldn’t. She pulled her shawl more closely around her shoulders and sat at the window again. If she wasn’t going to sleep until she’d spoken with Gabriel, she was in for a long night.
From her vantage point, she saw the shadowy figure of a horse trotting out of the hotel yard, the rider bent close to his neck. She sat up straight—had she just witnessed a theft? As quickly as she could, she dressed and put on her shoes, then ran down the stairs, ready to alert the marshal if need be. Instead, she saw Hope standing in the lobby in her nightgown, using the counter to hold herself up.
“Hope? What’s going on?”
Hope lifted her chin. “It’s Mother. We just sent someone for the doctor, but I think it’s too late.” She wiped her cheeks with the flats of her palms, then wiped her palms on her nightgown. “She’s so still . . .”
Collette put her arm around Hope’s shoulders, wishing there was anything she could do to lift this family’s burden. A moment later, Gabriel emerged from the room and sagged against the wall. Without thinking about propriety or anything else, Collette went to him. He slid both arms around her and pulled her tight against his white shirt, sobbing into her hair. She rubbed his back, saying nothing, praying that he knew he didn’t have to face this alone.
After a long moment, he kissed the top of her head, then released her.
“My sister Rose arrived here just in time,” he said, nodding toward the back room. “Her carriage threw a wheel and they had to get it fixed. Her husband is actually down at the livery right now with the horses, trying to get things figured out.”
“I’m so glad she was here,” Collette replied.
Gabriel looked down into her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his voice husky. “How did you even come into my life? How am I this fortunate?”
She raised an eyebrow, a thrill running down her arms at the thought that he might be coming to care for her just as she was for him. “I have no idea,” she replied. “We’ll have to sort that out.”
He ran a thumb along her jaw and wiped away a tear. Funny—she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “I don’t know what I said or did before, but I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was thoughtless—that’s something I struggle with.”
“No, I was overreacting. Let’s both forget about it.” She couldn’t help it—her eyes flicked down to his lips. As though he knew what she was thinking, he’d pulled her close again and was kissing her, his hold as gentle and yet as firm as any really romantic embrace ought to be.
“Well, now you’ve done it.”
They sprang apart to see an older version of Hope walking toward them from the back portion of the hotel. “You’ve just been caught kissing in the near dark in the middle of the night. Where I come from, that calls for a wedding.”
Gabriel looked down into Collette’s eyes. “Hmm. Funny thing is, I come from the same place. What do you say? Will you make an honest man out of me and marry me?”
“I don’t know.” Collette looked over at the newcomer. “Is that Rose?”
“It is.”
“Well, she looks a little intimidating, and I’d hate to get on her bad side. I’d probably better marry you in a case like that.”
Gabriel looked over at Rose. “She said yes. You can avert that baleful gaze now.”
“I have no baleful gaze. I just wish you’d done this before so Mom could have seen it.”
“That’s just the thing,” Gabriel said, pulling Collette a little closer and yet lifting his gaze upward. “I have the strangest feeling that she can see it. Wherever you are, Mother, whatever you might be doing at this moment, you can know that I’m happy.” He lowered his mouth to Collette’s again and she slid her arms around his waist. She had no idea how to help with a funeral or run a hotel or do any of the other things that would be required of her in this family, but oh, she couldn’t wait to join it and participate in the magic that seemed to live in the air in this amazing place called the Brody Hotel.
Epilogue
When Collette received her package from Lady Sybil two weeks later, she was surprised and yet delighted to find that it contained yards and yards of fine bridal veil fabric. She set that aside, glad there was still another week before the wedding and she’d have the chance to make something beautiful with it, and then she opened the letter that came with the fabric.
My Dearest Collette,
I was so sad to hear that your situation didn’t work out. If I had known they would leave you stranded like that, I never would have sent you with them. You deserve something so much nicer, so much better.
I’ve sent you two things. First is a quantity of fabric I found at the shop the other day. It’s my hope that you’ll have a chance to use it before too much longer.
The other thing is the name and address of a fine family in New York City. They’re looking for a governess, and if you write and accept, they’ll pay your transportation fees and anything else you might need. I hope you don’t feel obligated to take this post—life certainly does bring about exciting changes, does it not?
Please write and tell me how you are. I think of you often and hope you are well.
Lady Sybil Douglas
Collette set the address on her desk. She would write the family the next day and express her regrets. At that moment, she was expected downstairs for dinner with the new owner of the Brody Hotel, the man who had claimed her heart. She adjusted the black ribbon of mourning on her arm, wanting to show her respect for Elizabeth, but knowing full well she would not be allowed to delay the wedding for anything. Marrying Gabriel would be one of the best ways she could honor Elizabeth’s memory. It was a good thing her husband-to-be was so handsome.
About the Author
About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia C. Adams is a wife, a mother, an eater of chocolate, and a taker of naps. She spends her days thinking up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you just might see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels.
You can reach her at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.
Please join Amelia on her website to learn more about her, sign up for her newsletter, stay on top of news and upcoming releases, and follow her on Facebook. In fact, you can join her Facebook readers’ group by clicking here!
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Mail Order Molly
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Meredith’s Mistake
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Bribing the Blacksmith
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And Something Blue
For Love or Money
Five Golden Rings
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Generations
Mail Order M’Lady
Brides of Beckham
Carra Copelin
Copyright © 2018 by Carra Copelin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Foreword
Special thanks to Kirsten Osbourne for inviting me to write in her Brides of Beckham world. It has been an honor.
Author’s Note
The town of Beaumont, Texas, was a dangerous place to be in 1901. Managers of flimsy boarding houses along the dirt ruts of "Main Street" charged exhausted riggers almost half a day’s pay to rent a cot for twelve hours. Enterprising restaurateurs-built fires under 6-foot vats, filled them with water and dried beans, and charged oil hands 15 cents for a cup of “soup.” Gas blindness or even gas-induced death was a daily gamble for workers on the seeping rigs. There was also no shortage of gambling and fisticuffs in the ratty saloons. Things got so bad in one Texas boom town that Governor Moody sent the Texas Rangers to settle things down. Safe drinking water was nowhere, and dysentery was everywhere. In short, a boomtown wasn’t a healthy place to call home for very long.
Several large fires occurred at Spindletop and in Beaumont during the years following the first gusher in 1901. Reports of a fire on March 4, 1901 recorded that a derrick, a boarding house, and a box car were all consumed by flames that soared several hundred feet high. In 1902, the City installed a large steam whistle atop Eastern Texas Electric Company for fire notification. The number of blasts from the whistle would indicate the box number and location of a fire.
I have used these stories in Mail Order M’Lady to tell what life was like.
Chapter 1

Lady Anne Medvale left the office of the bank president. She walked over to her lady’s maid who had accompanied her on the cross-town trip.
Without preamble, she said, “Come along, Iris.”
Iris O’Donnell joined her, waiting until they were outside on the walk before asking, “What did he say, my lady?”
When she was satisfied no one was near enough to overhear, Anne answered, “He confirmed the communiqué I received from their establishment last week. There will be no more credit at the bank. We are on our own.”
“You had speculated, at the time of your decision not to marry Mr. Ballard, this might be your father’s response.”
“Yes, but I’m stunned, none-the-less,” Anne agreed, “I had hoped he would see reason, and not compel me to marry a man I don’t love or force me into a desperate situation. I suppose I should have known better.”
Having been born a girl instead of a boy, she’d understood she couldn’t inherit her father’s title or the estate. She would never have any money of her own, as any monies she inherited would go to her husband. Her father, Henry Medvale, Marquess of Thamesford, had always been more than generous with his daughters, with the assumption that they would someday marry. Margaret and Elinor, both younger, had married last year, fulfilling the family’s expectations.
Anne, at twenty-three, was becoming an embarrassment and a liability. There was no one waiting in the wings for her, for evidently, she had spurned one too many suitors. Plus, there was her dalliance with Mr. Smith, which had endangered her reputation and further fueled her father’s course of action. Perception was a wicked thing. So, when Harvey Ballard had come for dinner, her father had brokered a deal between the Medvale’s and the millionaire American railroad tycoon.
Her father had been so eager to seal the deal that, when the Ballard’s had requested the marriage take place in Massachusetts, he had readily agreed. She had opened a line of credit at the bank with her father’s letter, when she arrived in Boston this past September. The understanding being, of course, that as soon as she and Harvey Ballard married, she would be his responsibility. Her family would come over for the nuptials in November, and the account would be closed at that time.
Harvey had been nothing but pleasant and attentive on his trips to Higby Castle in the last year. In his own country, however, he was restrictive and intolerant, completely opposite to the man with whom she had become acquainted. She decided quickly she would not subject herself to that kind of treatment, no matter how much money and power he and his family held.
She had said as much to her father, and in his most recent correspondence, he’d insisted she resolve her issues or return to England. She supposed he intended to force her hand, thinking if he dragged her back to England or threatened to cut off her support, she would stop being stubborn and marry Mr. Ballard. His efforts, however, were in vain for that would never happen, nor would she return to Higby Castle.
She’d always heard her father could be a sharp, demanding man in business . . . at times almost cruel. Today, she’d found out first-hand how far he would go to get his way or to make a point.
It was now that her true dilemma began. For the first time in her life, she had to figure out how to survive in a strange country, not only for herself, but also for another person. She was now responsible for Iris, since she didn’t have the funds to send her maid back to England.
“I was thinking, my lady,” Iris said. “We could stop by the dress shop on our way back to the hotel. You wanted to do some shopping and it might lift your spirits.”
“You’re right.” She smiled and glanced wistfully in the direction of the small dress shop across the street. “A new dress would surely do the trick. Alas, we need to be frugal in our spending, until I decide how we’re going to survive. I refuse to go back to England and live under Papa’s dominance.” She placed her hand on Iris’ arm. “I promise you, as soon as I can, I’ll send you home.”
“My home was Higby castle, and you are my family, my lady,” Iris said. “I’m staying with you for as long as you’ll let me.”
Anne pulled the collar of her less-than-adequate coat around her neck. The clothing they had would have to suffice for now. She hadn’t been prepared for the bone-chilling cold weather of this region of the country, and had thought of buying, both she and Iris, heavier wool coats after the wedding. She had managed to put some extra money into her
travel safe for emergencies, but the amount saved would barely be enough to cover food and lodging, for who knew how long they had to exist on their own.
What on earth was she going to do? She had no real skills. She had been trained to run a household, plan dinners, and serve on committees. Perhaps she could work somewhere as a seamstress, but only if they needed some fancy embroidery. Their future was bleak indeed.
She glanced at Iris, who stood beside her shivering in her light wool coat. The young woman had become a confidant through the years and she’d come to think of her as more a friend than a maid.
“Iris,” she said, interlocking their arms at the elbow. “Our situation is precarious and calls for much deep thought. I dare say we can’t do that if we are frozen through. Shall we go back to the hotel to thaw out with a bowl of their hearty stew?”
“That sounds wonderful, my lady,” Iris said, with a shudder.
Thankfully, the hotel lobby had a roaring fire in the fireplace. They stood near to chase the chill, being careful of their skirts, and then found a table in the dining room.
Once seated and their orders given to the waiter, Anne removed her gloves and continued to consider their plight. She had no plan beyond this meal and their sleep for the night. Their situation was dire, and she had no solution. Then she remembered something.
“Iris?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Tell me if I’m remembering correctly,” she said, “Don’t you have family in America?”
“I do, my lady. My relatives are distant cousins living in Texas. But . . .” Iris said, hesitating.
“Yes?”
“They don’t know I’ve traveled to America.”