“I doubt you’re short on talents. Everyone has an abundance of talent whether or not they realize it.”
“Oh, you’re one of those, are you—always looking on the bright side?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“I try to. Is that going to be a problem?” If it was, he’d have to get over it, and fast.
“No, not at all. I’m quite delighted, actually.”
The other couples had left the church and were strolling along the street, some looking at each other with stars in their eyes, and others seeming a little nervous.
Just then, a young man came running up, panting and out of breath. “Need help at the saloon! Trouble!”
Samuel groaned and stood up. “I’m sorry, Beth—I have to go. I’m on duty right now.”
“You are?” She supposed someone had to be—they couldn’t all four take the day off at the same time—but it did seem rather a shame considering it was their wedding day. “Good luck,” she ended, not at all sure what she was supposed to say in a situation like that.
“Thank you.” He turned and waved for Nathaniel, who bid Claire goodbye and trotted over, and they both headed for the saloon.
“Well, that’s a fine kettle of fish,” Miss Hazel said, coming up beside Beth and watching the two Mounties disappear down the street. “I suppose it can’t be helped when you marry Mounties, though.”
“It’s not very romantic,” Claire agreed as she joined them.
“There will be time for romance later, ladies. Let’s see about getting you settled in.”
Chapter Five
Miss Hazel found out where the different Mounties’ homes were located, and Nathaniel’s seemed closest. Beth waited there with Claire until the trouble at the saloon had been resolved, and then it was time for her to see where she would be living with this man who was now her husband. She and Miss Hazel began their walk, but Samuel found them before they’d gone too far.
“Are you eager to show your bride her new home?” Miss Hazel asked.
“I am, but I’m just as eager to make sure you find your rooms safely, Miss Hazel,” he replied, and she blushed.
Beth and Samuel escorted Miss Hazel to her door, and then it was just the two of them.
“It’s not much,” Samuel warned her as they walked down the street. “Mounties aren’t paid much, and our quarters are humble. Will that bother you?”
“I’ve always lived humbly, and I prefer it,” she replied. “In fact, I spent the last little while staying in a very opulent home, and I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.”
She went on to tell him about the death of her father and staying at Mrs. Duesenberry’s home. “I didn’t dare relax for a single second while I was in the parlor because I didn’t want to smoosh a pillow or knock a lamp askew. It was a relief to leave there.”
Samuel touched her elbow. “Are you really all alone in the world?”
“I’m afraid so. My father had no living relatives, neither did my mother, and she died when I was ten.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” But then a smile lit his face. “But you aren’t alone anymore. You have me in a very real sense, and the Mounties will be your sworn brothers. You’re now surrounded by family on all sides.”
“Thank you,” she said, her heart swelling at his words. “That truly means so much to me.”
They rounded a bend, and there stood a small cabin surrounded by trees. “Here it is,” Samuel said, holding out his arm in welcome. “I do hope you like it.”
Beth did, almost instantly. Its size merely lent to its charm, and she could envision herself planting flowers in the spring and hanging laundry from the clothesline and . . .
“Oh,” she said. “There’s no rope on your clothesline. I suppose that just makes them . . . clothes poles, maybe?”
Samuel chuckled and ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I meant to take care of that, but we’ve been busy. I’ll have a new rope strung for you by tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you. That will make things much easier.” She didn’t want to ask how he’d gotten along before.
When Samuel opened the door and ushered her inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the cabin after the bright autumn day outside. “I should have opened the curtains,” he said, stepping over to lift back the fabric. Sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating the dust particles in the air, of which there were an awful lot. Well, Beth knew how to dust. That was manageable.
The room consisted of a fireplace, two hard-backed chairs on either side of the hearth, a table with two more chairs, and a kitchen counter that ran down the end of the wall. A tall cabinet held dishes, and the lower shelves held tinned food. A small ice box was in the corner, and Beth was pleased to see that—she’d been concerned at first that there might not be one. On that wall was a door that stood ajar.
“That’s where I’ll sleep,” Samuel said, returning them to their conversation from earlier.
“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?” She very much disliked the idea of putting the man out of his own bed, but at the same time, she appreciated his desire to court her. That showed a kindness and a gentlemanliness she hadn’t expected, even though she knew the Mounties only took the best of the best as their officers.
“I’ll be comfortable. Don’t worry about me.” He gave her a grin. “Also back there are sacks of potatoes, salt pork, and some dried fruits, should you want any.”
“Thank you.” She personally hated salt pork, but she’d make it work.
“And then your room is over here.” He ushered her over to a doorway on the other side of the fireplace. This room was immaculate—she saw no dust in the sunbeams, everything smelled fresh and aired out, and the coverlet looked crisp. “I hope it’s all right.”
“It’s wonderful,” she told him. “I’ll be very happy here.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” he said, looking sheepish. “Sam Bonney, the bartender down at the saloon, came over and helped me.”
Beth raised an eyebrow. “A man did all this?”
He laughed. “No, Sam’s a woman.”
Beth joined him in laughter. “I’ll look forward to meeting her so I can give her my thanks in person.”
“All right. So . . . um . . . do you want to explore a little more, or do you want something to eat, or . . .?” He shifted his weight to his other leg, and Beth had to admit, she felt awkward too. Weren’t newlyweds supposed to have more to talk about? Were wedding days supposed to be this . . . boring?
“I am rather hungry,” she said. “Why don’t you make us some bacon and eggs, and I’ll make biscuits to go with them?”
“Deal,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go change out of my uniform first.”
“And I’ll change out of my traveling dress and meet you back here in ten minutes.” They each slipped into their separate rooms, and Beth shook out her dress before hanging it on one of the pegs driven into the wall. She pulled out a light yellow kitchen dress and tied on the new apron she’d made at Miss Hazel’s, then brushed out her hair and repinned it. She might not look like a traditional bride, but at least she was clean and tidy.
She went back into the kitchen and began stirring up the biscuit dough. Samuel came out of his . . . room, she supposed she should call it . . . and grabbed the skillet for his portion of the meal. Neither of them spoke as they worked, and Beth was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say? Why wouldn’t he say something?
She slid the biscuits into the oven, then turned to put the flour away. Just as she faced the cabinet, a fat mouse ran out from behind the stack of wood in the corner and she screamed, jumping into the air and sending flour all over herself. In the same instant, Samuel grabbed the skillet off the stove and brought it down on top of the mouse, sending half-cooked bacon and eggs everywhere. The mouse actually escaped the attack and ran out of the cabin by squeezing beneath the front door, lea
ving the bride and groom covered in a horrible, sticky mess.
“Um . . .” Samuel looked down at the skillet. “I might need to start a new batch.”
The chagrin in his voice as he stated the obvious gave Beth the giggles, and they sank into the kitchen chairs and laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks. Beth almost forgot she had something cooking until the smell of warm biscuits filled the air, and she pulled them out and set them on the table.
“I’ve got some tinned beans on the bottom shelf there. Why don’t we warm them up and eat them with the biscuits?”
“I’m all for it,” Beth said. “I don’t know if I could handle looking at bacon and eggs right now. I’m sure you make them well, but . . .” She pulled a long piece of half-cooked bacon off the front of her dress. “After wearing it, it’s easy to get one’s fill.”
Samuel laughed, and Beth realized this was the first moment they’d really seemed comfortable with each other. She reached across the table and took his hand.
“We have a lifetime to get to know each other. I don’t think we need the added pressure of always saying the right thing or trying to be perfect, do you? Let’s eat, and probably change yet again, and then you can teach me some card games or how to whittle or whatever it is you do here in the evenings. Think of me as a friend, a buddy. At least to start.”
Samuel grinned. “I’d like that a lot. A man can always use more buddies, right?”
“Absolutely. And I shouldn’t have to worry about being a perfect wife while I’m thrashing you soundly at double solitaire.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon? You think you can beat me at double solitaire? Or did I hear you incorrectly?”
“You most certainly did not hear me incorrectly. Not only can I beat you, but I can do it with flour in my hair.”
“Well now. That sounds somewhat like a challenge.”
“It should sound completely like a challenge.”
A smile quirked around the edges of his lips. “Very well, you’re on. I’ll warm up the beans while you change your dress . . . sorry about all the eggs and whatnot . . . and we’ll commence as soon as we’ve eaten.”
With the stress of trying to kick start a new relationship off their shoulders, they were both able to relax, and Beth found herself laughing harder than she had in quite a long time as they took turns besting each other at cards. By the end of the evening, she had indeed topped his score, and he accepted defeat gracefully.
“Good night, Beth,” he said softly when they both decided they were too tired to play anymore. “Sleep well.” He bent down and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.
“You too,” she replied, and she watched as he entered his temporary room and closed the door.
Still no fireworks, but she had found a very good friend.
Chapter Six
Beth and Claire walked down the main street of Cougar Springs, enjoying the bright, clear day and learning the layout of the town. They found the general store without too much difficulty and decided to stop in on the way back so they wouldn’t be dragging their purchases with them everywhere they went.
“What have you heard so far about this Cougar Springs Health Institute?” Beth asked as they turned the corner and saw the formidable building rising up in front of them.
“Nathaniel told me it’s run by a Dr. Jenkins, and everyone swears by him,” Claire replied. “He advises all his patients to soak in the hot springs and to take his elixirs. People come from all over the country to be treated by him.”
“And he’s effective?” Beth asked. It seemed so far-fetched, she couldn’t wrap her head around it.
“The Mounties don’t know what to make of it,” Claire replied.
“Well, this Mountie’s wife knows exactly what she thinks,” Sinead said, coming up behind them on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Matthew that I have every intention of speaking to Dr. Jenkins, and for some reason, he believes I should be stopped. It’s that charlatan who should be stopped, not me!”
“You never learned about healing waters in medical school?” Claire replied.
“I certainly did not, except to be used for sore muscles and the like. I shudder to think how many people that man has conned with his promises of health. Please excuse me—I really need to do something about this.” She nodded to each of them and went on her way.
“I admire her so much,” Beth said as they watched her stride down the sidewalk. “She has no doubt that what she’s doing is right—I question myself constantly.”
“I think she’s had to learn that kind of self-confidence because of the struggles she’s had,” Claire said. “Being part Negro and having to fight for everything she’s accomplished—it was survival for her, I’m sure.”
“So . . . you’re saying that things like that can be learned? I don’t have to be such a . . . well, a delicate lotus blossom my whole life?”
Claire burst into giggles. “A delicate lotus blossom? Where did you hear that?”
“That’s what my grandmother used to call me when I was little and something was too hard for me. She was a fairly stern woman and didn’t have much patience for lollygagging or dillydallying, and as a little girl, that was about all I did.” Beth smiled at the memory, even though it was a bit painful still. “She’d call me a delicate lotus blossom and say that I couldn’t possibly be expected to do what she asked because I would break. It was her way of mocking me into obedience.”
“Oh, Beth. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, I did learn how to work eventually, and so I can put all that behind me now. She passed away when I was eight, so I have no reason to think about it.”
“Except that you are thinking about it right now.”
“True.” Beth couldn’t even remember why they were talking about it and had to walk backwards in her memory to recall the reason. Ah, that’s right. Self-confidence and the ability to learn it. Perhaps the more she came to know Sinead, the more secrets she’d learn.
As they walked, they came upon one of the famous hot springs, and Beth saw a familiar-looking reindeer stepping close to the edge and sniffing at the water. “Oh, look!” she said, pointing. “I saw him yesterday, too. Isn’t he magnificent?”
“He looks just a little shaggy to me,” Claire said.
“Perhaps, but I like him. I wonder if he has a name.”
“Lower your voices.” Beth turned to see Miss Hazel sneaking up on them, trying to use her tiptoes. However, Beth didn’t think Miss Hazel was shaped quite right to use her tiptoes. “That’s Rocky,” the woman went on. “You don’t want to startle him or he might fall into the springs and make a nice pot of reindeer stew.”
“Oh, he couldn’t cook to death in there, could he?” Beth asked. “Don’t people soak in these springs all the time?”
“I wouldn’t want to take any chances, dear,” Miss Hazel replied. “Now, what have you been up to today?”
“Just walking around, getting to know the town,” Beth replied.
“Nathaniel and Samuel have the same shift, so we’re both at loose ends at the same time,” Claire added.
“Gracious. Try saying those names together four times fast,” Miss Hazel said with a chuckle. “I’d be inclined to call them Nate and Sam and get it over with. Well, I’m glad you’re settling in and that you’re learning your way around. I have a few other things to do, so I’ll catch up with you later.”
Miss Hazel bustled off back the way she’d come, and the two girls smothered giggles. Miss Hazel was such a dear—a funny, unpredictable dear.
***
“I spent some time walking around town this afternoon and meeting the people, and I have to admit, I don’t know what to think about this health institute or whatever it’s called,” Beth said at dinner that night as she put a slice of pie on Samuel’s plate. “The people I spoke with are loyal to Dr. Jenkins almost to the point of silliness, but when I asked what ailments he’s actually cured, they couldn’t give me a definite list. I thin
k Sinead’s right to be concerned.”
“I’d be glad to see the man go,” Samuel replied. “I don’t think those so-called magic waters are any more special than what I could find in my own bathtub.”
“Speaking of bathtubs . . .” Beth felt embarrassed to ask, but she’d have to do it sooner or later, and it was best to get it over with. “I haven’t seen one here. Where would I find it?”
Samuel cleared his throat. “Um, in the storeroom there where I’m sleeping.”
“Oh. It didn’t occur to me to look there.” She took a bite of her pie, then continued on her previous train of thought. “If the waters aren’t powerful, why are so many people willing to believe that they are?”
Samuel wiped his mouth. “That might have something to do with the precedent set in the Bible,” he began. “Think of all the times we see water used to perform miracles. Naaman was told to bathe in the river seven times, for instance. When he came out that last time, he was healed of leprosy.”
“But it wasn’t the water that healed him,” Beth pointed out. “He was being blessed by God for having the faith to do what he was told, even though it made no sense to him.”
“That’s exactly right, but many who read the Bible still believe that water is somehow healing all by itself. That’s what Dr. Jenkins is counting on. The worst part is that many of these people are at their wits’ end trying to put a stop to their pain, and they’re willing to try anything. They’ve spent all their money on this potion and that cure and this other treatment, and this has become their last chance—or so they think. If Dr. Jenkins is the fraud Sinead believes he is, he’s not only selling them a faulty product, but he’s preying on their hopes and dreams to do it, and that makes him more dangerous and more evil, in my opinion.”
“I agree,” Beth replied. “Anyone who would take personal knowledge like that about someone and use it to extort them—that’s a purely evil act.”
“Something that is not evil, however, is this pie,” Samuel said, lifting another bite to his lips.
RNWMP: Bride for Samuel (Mail Order Mounties Book 12) Page 3