She thanked him, and reluctantly moved out of his arms, then headed to the ticket office. Ticket in hand she headed for the platform. When she looked back, Martin had gone.
No doubt he would be grilled in the morning. He might even lose his job if his complicity was discovered.
She hoped for his sake he didn’t.
* * *
Rose slowly opened her eyes. She’d lost count of the number of days she’d been on this wretched contraption. Two days? Three? It could even be more.
She felt ill from the constant rocking, and her entire body ached from the uncomfortable seats. She’d taken Martin’s advice and held her carpetbag the entire trip, not letting it go for even moments.
She alighted at two of the larger stations and purchased food to sustain her for the rest of the trip. Thankful for Martin’s foresight and additional money, as she would have run out before now otherwise.
Upon purchasing her ticket she’d discovered Dalton Springs was too small to have it’s own train station, so she’d need to transfer to a stagecoach for the last leg of the trip.
Her biggest hope was the seats were padded. How she wished she’d carried her pillow with her! Even at the risk of looking silly.
She glanced up as a shadow fell over her. “Tickets please.” The conductor came to check her ticket for what would be at least the tenth time, perhaps more. With passengers coming and going, it was a constant interruption. One she didn’t savor.
“Thank you, Miss.” He tipped his hat and was on his way.
She closed her eyes again, and it didn’t seem very much later she heard an announcement as the conductor moved along the aisles. “Little Rock. Little Rock.”
Rose slowly opened her eyes then began to nod off again, but sensed someone standing over her. “Miss. Miss.” He touched her shoulder and Rose stiffened. “Miss, this is your stop.”
It was the conductor again. “You need to change here for Dalton Springs. The stagecoach is over there,” he said pointing. “It leaves in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you,” she said, her heart finally slowing. “I appreciate it.” And she did. If she’d missed her stop she’d be stranded. She only had enough money left for the stagecoach, and nothing more.
Rose stretched herself out as she stood. The conductor stood in front of her, no doubt waiting for a tip, but she had none to give.
He eventually moved on.
Clutching her carpetbag, Rose strode toward the stagecoach. She couldn’t afford to miss it. This town, Little Rock, lived up to its name. From what she could see there was nothing more than a mercantile, a barber’s shop, a blacksmith’s shop, and of course, a church.
She hoped Dalton Springs was larger.
She no sooner had the thought than she dismissed it. She was on the run, hiding, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers. She would accept whatever hand she was dealt in her new locality.
The stagecoach looked sturdy enough, and she climbed up with assistance. It was clearly meant for four adults, but six of them were packed inside.
“That’s it,” the driver told them. “The rest of you will have to wait for the next coach in about an hour.
Relieved she’d hurried from the train, Rose sat back, enjoying the comfortable seats. At least they were more comfortable than the train, but would she still feel that way after two hours in this new contrivance?
One thing she did know; she would be very pleased to sleep in a real bed tonight.
She sighed. At least her ordeal was nearly ended. Only two more hours she told herself over and over, hoping to reduce her fatigue and talk herself into feeling better.
“This is exciting,” a rather plump woman with red curls told her. “I’ve never been in a stagecoach before.”
Rose glanced at her. “Neither have I. Are you going to Dalton Springs too?” Not that she was really interested, she was simply being polite.
The woman looked her up and down. “No dear, I’ll alight much earlier than that.”
Was that meant to be derogatory? Rose really wasn’t sure. She glanced to the opposite side of the coach to see three gents sitting there. They all sat tall in their grey suits with perfectly matched ties. She wondered where they were going, but didn’t dare ask.
To her left was another woman. This one looked as though she’d rather be anywhere but here. Her chin stood high as if in an act of defiance, and she glanced at the gent sitting directly opposite. “This is already incredibly uncomfortable, George,” she said haughtily. “Was there really no other option?”
“None,” he said firmly.
Rose watched the exchange and knew her mother would be the same. She’d rather buy out the entire stagecoach than be crammed in like this. She blinked the thoughts away. The last thing she wanted was to fill herself with emotion and make a spectacle of herself in front of all these strangers.
She wanted to clutch her carpetbag as a way to comfort herself, but it had been taken away from her. No luggage was allowed in the coach itself, she was told. And that was that.
Settling herself as best she could, Rose closed her eyes, and didn’t open them again until the next stop where the two single gents alighted. The snobbish woman moved to sit beside her husband, giving them all more space. “Thank goodness for that, George,” she said with a sigh.
Rose couldn’t help but smile when a rather large gent joined them, choosing to sit next to the couple.
It seemed like forever before she arrived at her destination, but Rose was well ready to leave. Between the rocking, the dust, and the complaints from the snobbish woman, she couldn’t wait to alight.
The driver helped her down the wonky steps, then passed her luggage, leaving her then to her own devices. As the coach pulled away, she examined her surroundings.
What she hoped to become her new home wasn’t a lot bigger than Little Rock, but enough to say it was the biggest of the two.
She could see the mercantile, a bakery, dressmaker, sheriff’s office, and a small bank. The church steeple peaked out behind them.
Making her way toward the Mercantile, Rose was sure she would be able to locate M. Barnabas from there. The town was small enough that everyone must surely know all the residents, even if they lived on the outskirts.
She walked slowly up the sidewalk toward her intended destination, and stood outside working up the nerve to go in and make enquiries.
It was then she realized she was in a similar position to a mail order bride. She had arrived at an unknown destination, preparing to meet an unknown employer. She may not be getting married, but she was taking the same sort of risk.
It made her pause.
What if M. Barnabas was an abusive male? She’d assumed the advertisement was written by a woman, simply because of the mention of child-minding. But now she realized that may not be the case at all.
If it wasn’t for the fact she’d traveled for many days by both train and stagecoach, she would have turned around right this minute and gone back.
She stopped.
No, she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that – not unless she was prepared to marry a man who was clearly not what he pretended to be.
She reached out and opened the door. The little bell over the door tinkled and she walked in.
Chapter Three
Grace sat at her father’s feet flicking through the pages of a book. Baby Clara sat on his lap.
“Your children are beautiful,” Sarah Rogers exclaimed. “Very well behaved too.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Alice would be so proud.”
Tears came to her eyes, and Matthew offered her his kerchief. She brushed it aside. “I’m very sorry, Preacher Barnabas. I don’t know what came over me.”
He pulled Clara closer. “It is difficult,” he said. “For all of us. Our loss was not so long ago. It’s sad to think these girls may never remember their mother because of their young ages.”
Mrs Rogers sniffed.
Matthew worried his words had set he
r off again, but she managed to pull herself together. “Tell me, Mrs Rogers. How are things with you now?”
She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “A little better, thank you. The help you arranged for me has made a huge difference. I’m no longer worrying all the time, and have even managed to do a little embroidery. It’s something I’ve missed dearly.”
He leaned forward and patted her knee. “That’s wonderful. I’m so pleased it helped. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She grabbed his hand before he could move it away. “If you could say a small prayer for me, I’d be very grateful.”
They bowed their heads and prayed together, and he left soon after with his daughters. “I’m so proud of you,” he told Grace. “Your behavior was excellent.” He was rewarded with a huge grin.
He looked the child over. He’d noticed Mrs Rogers staring at her before they left, but couldn’t fathom what she’d found so interesting.
He could see it now, out here in the daylight. The hair he’d braided this morning was falling apart, and her pinafore was inside out. Good gracious!
And he’d paraded the child in front of other parishioners before he’d arrived here. What he was going to do, he had no idea, but the situation was becoming dire. The children needed a woman’s hand, but it was an impossible mission.
There was no one suitable in town who was available. The last thing he wanted was to marry so soon after his dear wife’s demise.
He would just have to be more vigilant and rise from sleep even earlier than he did now. It would make for a much longer and more difficult day, but he’d do anything for his sweet and innocent daughters.
They headed for home where he would fix Grace’s hair once again, and turn her pinafore the right way out. Dear Alice would have had conniptions if she’d seen what he’d done. And out in public no less.
* * *
“I’m looking for M. Barnabas,” Rose told the woman behind the counter.
The tiny woman squinted at her. “Joseph!” she called, presumably to her husband.
“Yes, Bertha?” he yelled back.
Her gaze never left Rose’s face. “Git out here. There’s a strange woman lookin’ for M. Barnabas!”
Rose heard his boots hit the floor and he was behind the counter in seconds. He stared at her then looked her up and down.
“Who are you?” His eyes followed her every movement. “And what do you want with M. Barnabas?” The name was exaggerated.
She straightened her shoulders and licked her lips. “I...I’m answering an advertisement she placed.”
They stared at her, then laughter bubbled up from inside them both. The woman doubled over, she was laughing so much.
Then suddenly they both stopped, and their expressions became serious. “To begin with, M. Barnabas is a man,” Joseph said.
“An’ he’s our preacher,” Bertha finished for him. “What sort of advertisement?” She squinted at Rose once again. “Show me.”
What was she to do? She had no advertisement to show. “It’s not really your business,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “Please tell me where to find him, and I’ll go there.”
Bertha pursed her lips in an obvious act of defiance.
Joseph on the other hand, wasn’t so difficult. “Behind the bakery. Follow the steeple and you’ll be there. The cottage is beside the church.”
“Thank you, Mr...”
“Stapleton. You can call me, Joseph. Or Joe. Everyone does.”
“Thank you, Joe.” She spun on her heels and headed for the door.
“See you around, I guess.”
Rose nodded. She sure hoped so.
Following Joe’s directions, she found the little cottage. It wasn’t large, but wasn’t tiny either. It had lace curtains in the front windows, and a picket fence with an assortment of flowers out the front.
The garden had been let go, and was full of weeds. Their garden at home was never like that. Then again, they had a gardener who came in twice a week. One day for the flowers, the other for the vegetable patch out back.
Father was stingy and refused to pay for fresh produce when he could grow his own. As if he grew it!
Rose wondered if there was a vegetable patch out the back of the preacher’s cottage. She’d never been allowed to potter in the garden, since someone was paid to do that job. What her father hadn’t realized was she could have saved him money, had he allowed her.
Not that she knew about plants, but she was willing to learn.
The front door stood wide open and she heard a child scream. “Papa! You’re hurting me.”
Rose was alarmed.
The wind blew up and a cold breeze hit her. Rose pulled her coat around herself. “Are you cold?” She looked down to see a small girl of three or four, she guessed.
“Only a little.” She turned the collar up to warm her neck. “Is Mr Barnabas around?”
Without warning the child was gone. “Papa! There’s a strange lady here.”
He stood at the end of the hallway and stared. He was tall and trim, and stood in the shadows. He held something in his hands, but she couldn’t work out what it was.
“Hello?”
“Mr Matthews?” Once the words were out she remembered his vocation. “Sorry, Preacher Matthews?”
He closed the distance between them. “Yes?”
“My name is Rose Charleston. I’m answering your advertisement.”
“Advertisement?”
Rose felt the color drain from her face. She’d traveled all this way and he had no idea what she was talking about. “You advertised for a housekeeper. At least that’s what the advertisement said.”
It was obvious the man was totally confused. Then suddenly he seemed enlightened. “I didn’t do that, but I’ll bet I know who did.”
Between the travel and the fact she was penniless, not to mention homeless, it was all too much to discover she’d been on a fruitless endeavor with no resolution in sight.
Tears began to fall, and sobs wracked her body. “Oh my dear lady. You must come inside,” the preacher told her.
Leading her into the sitting room, he called to the young girl. “Grace, please get Miss Charleston a cup of water from the table.” He helped her into a chair.
Rose accepted the water from the small girl. “Here you are.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She stared at her through tears. Grace was a pretty little thing, but rather disheveled. She was well-mannered too.
“Tell me what happened,” the preacher said gently. “We’ll sort this all out, have no doubt.”
Between tears and sobs she relayed the details of the advertisement. Rose explained of her long and arduous trip, and the fact she was now without both money and accommodation.
He listened careful, continuing to hold in his hand the object she’d seen earlier. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the kerchief he offered and finally saw it was a hairbrush.
It made her smile. He followed her gaze. “I was trying to sort out my daughter’s hair,” he told her gently. “It is far beyond my capabilities.”
Grace pulled a face. “He pulls my hair and the braids all fall out,” she said with a pout.
“Obviously someone in my parish placed that advertisement. It certainly wasn’t me. Although...I certainly could use the help.”
Her heart beat picked up. Perhaps she did have a job after all.
He scratched his head. “The problem as I see it,” he said quietly. “Is you’re an unmarried woman, and I’m an unmarried man. I can’t have you live here with me and the children.”
She blinked. He didn’t have a wife? “What about your wife,” she almost whispered.
“Grace, go and check on Clara, would you? That’s a good girl.” Grace almost danced out of the room, having been given that responsibility. “My wife died some months ago, leaving me to raise the girls alone.”
“Oh. I’m very sorry,” Rose said, and genuinely mean
t it.
“I do need help, but I’m not sure how it can be managed. You can’t stay here, as I’ve explained.”
“I have no money.” She stared down into her hands. “I’ve used every last coin I had. I can’t even buy food.”
The enormity of her situation hit her again, and she must have paled as the preacher pushed the water toward her once more. “We’ll work it out,” he said. “I promise you, no matter what, I’ll find a way to deal with your situation.”
“Clara is hungry, Daddy,” Grace said, entering the room again.
“I have to organize my other daughter, Clara,” he said. “What experience do you have with children?” he asked over his shoulder, indicating she should follow him.
“None,” she answered softly.
“What of housekeeping?”
She swallowed hard. This wasn’t going well. “None of that either.”
He turned back to look at her. “What do you have experience with?” He frowned, looking as worried about the situation as she felt.
“None at all. I’ve not had a job of any sort, or done anything to earn my keep.” She chewed on her bottom lip waiting for his response.
“Good. That way I can teach you.” He laughed, but she wasn’t sure what was so funny.
She must have looked confused because he frowned. “It was a joke really. I have no idea what I’m doing either. Only today my daughter’s hair fell out of the braid I’d done, and her pinafore was inside out.”
He chucked Grace under the chin. “And I took her out in public like that.”
Rose grinned. She couldn’t help herself. It was funny in a strange sort of way. “Does that mean I have the job,” she asked quietly.
“I think so. If you can stay with the children for a short time, I will make some arrangements.” He picked the baby up from the crib. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”
He changed the saturated diaper, then carried her into the kitchen. “Here,” he said, passing the baby over. “I need to warm her bottle.”
Rose had no choice – Clara was foisted into her arms. She looked down in alarm at the angelic face. She’d never held a child before.
Rescuing The Preacher (Christmas Rescue Series Book 1) Page 2