by Cassie Hayes
“Anyway,” she continued, “as you may have figured out, I wasn’t as eager to become a mail-order bride as Rose, Evelyn and JoAnn. That had nothing to do with you, of course, but I felt as if I had no other choice in the matter, and no one likes to be forced into a situation. Especially a marriage.”
Tilly dared to peek up at her husband. He sat quietly as he listened, staring out at the lush forest passing by. His expression was implacable, and for some reason that both worried and comforted her. She had the floor, but she had no idea what he was thinking.
“It’s time you learned why I felt as if my only recourse was marrying a stranger. Remember how I told you my father worked double shifts to afford to send me to culinary school?”
“I do.”
“Well, hopefully it’s no surprise to you I took to it like a fish to water. I honestly never wanted to do anything else, and I couldn’t have been happier when I was in the kitchen creating new delicacies for my employers.”
Of course, Tilly recalled many failed experiments, all of which had first been taste-tested by house staff. Thankfully, they’d always been willing, because her experiments usually resulted in scrumptious treats they wouldn’t otherwise have had the opportunity to enjoy.
“It didn’t take long before word spread, and I’d been hired as head chef to a prominent member of parliament. Other chefs, mostly male, refused to believe a woman — not to mention one so young — had achieved such a level of success on skill alone. Hateful rumors sprang up, but no matter how patently false a rumor is, jealousy has a way of fueling the fire.”
“Yes, it does,” Nolan murmured.
“None of it was true, of course.” Tilly looked up at him, desperate he should believe her.
He met her gaze. “Go on.”
Her pulse quickened. Now came the hard part.
“My employer had never before made it a habit to visit the kitchens before I was hired, but afterward… Unfortunately, this only fed evil speculations. As much as I tried to politely brush off his attentions, his visits became more frequent. It became so upsetting, I paid a maid to warn me when he was on his way down.”
Nolan’s fingers had gone slack in hers and his eyes remained glued on the scenery. She’d give double what she’d paid the maid to learn what he was thinking.
“Then late one night, after a big party, I’d been the last one in the kitchen, preparing for breakfast the next day. I’d assumed he and his wife had already gone to bed, but I was wrong. I remember standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out a mixing bowl, when suddenly…”
Tilly lost the ability to speak. Though the incident had brought her here to Nolan, she still found it difficult to recount. Choking back the temptation to cry, she squeezed Nolan’s hand, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze back, giving her strength to continue.
“He came up behind me so quietly I didn’t hear him. Before I knew what was happening, he’d bent me over the sink and was trying to pull up my skirts. That’s when his wife burst in and—“
Nolan gasped. “Good Lord!”
The tears she’d been holding back finally fell. He was disgusted by her, and while she’d hoped he’d react differently, she also half-expected it. Releasing his hand, she ducked her face into her hands to hide her shame and heartbreak. It wasn’t Nolan’s fault he’d married a liar.
“Tilly! Look at that moose!”
Utterly bewildered, she looked up at him. “What…?”
Amazement mixed with glee in his face as he pointed out the window. “Look!”
Tilly turned to see an enormous moose running alongside the train. Something that looked an awful lot like ladies undergarments hung from his antlers and flapped in the wind. Before she could stop herself, she snorted with relief.
“It’s gaining on us,” he said with a disbelieving laugh.
Tilly joined in. “I think that’s Monty!”
The entire car full of men watched and laughed as Monty passed them, then veered off into the woods. None of them could ever remember seeing such a sight, and quite some time was spent recounting it and bursting into fits of laughter all over again.
Each time Tilly would look up at Nolan, he never met her gaze, and she was certain she knew why.
He regretted marrying her.
Chapter 7
The moment the train pulled into the Prince Rupert station, the terminus of the line, the mayor pulled Nolan off the train and dragged him toward the waterfront. Nolan had just enough time to glance over his shoulder to see a nicely dressed matron leading Tilly away in the other direction. What a way to start a honeymoon!
“Wind’s been blowing so hard for the last week, all the fishing boats stayed in port,” Grant Arnette explained as he walked two steps ahead of Nolan. “Yesterday, a few brave souls ventured out, even though it was still kicking up a bit. They made it out past Digby Island and saw a boat fetched up on the southwest end.”
“They were the ones to rescue the survivors?”
“Nah, too rough to land there. They came back in and organized a party that landed on the lee side and trekked across the island. Plenty of men went along because the fishermen could tell it wasn’t a local boat, and most likely Chinee.”
Nolan winced at the derogatory term for Chinese, but held his tongue so he could hear the rest of the story. He didn’t want to miss a single detail.
“We rounded up twenty-one,” Arnette continued, “and search parties canvassed the entire island so we’re pretty sure none of ‘em managed to escape.”
“Any dead?”
“Three, one woman, one man and one infant. Drowned.”
Nolan had known Grant Arnette for a couple years and had always considered him to be a kind, God-fearing man who only wanted to do right by the people of Prince Rupert…but the indifferent tone the man used to report the passing of three fellow humans staggered Nolan.
“Were they a family?” The very idea of an entire family being wiped out in one tragic accident stabbed an ice pick in Nolan’s heart.
The mayor shrugged. “No idea. Can’t understand nothing they say. We just need ‘em gone, one way or another.”
Nolan shook his head, wondering how anyone could be so cold. As a proud member of the Northwest Royal Mounted Police force, he’d taken a vow to uphold the laws of the land, and it was a promise he took very seriously. He tried not to get emotional about those laws, but the ones implemented to curb the influx of Chinese immigrants to Canada troubled him.
A $500 Head Tax on every Chinese person entering the country seemed downright outrageous. That was the price for a decent little home in Prince Rupert! No wonder so many tried to skirt the tax by landing in remote parts of the country. Sure, they were breaking the law, and Nolan would do everything in his power to see they reached the proper authorities for deportation proceedings, but they were still human beings — people who simply wanted a better life than the one they’d had back home. To his way of thinking, a Christian lacking in empathy wasn’t deserving of the title.
Nolan followed Arnette past a row of houses to a corral surrounded by ten or twelve armed men. Inside the corral, a group of men, women and children huddled together, shivering in the brisk afternoon wind.
“There they are,” Arnette said, waving at the group. “How soon can you get ‘em outta here?”
In the quickly diminishing daylight, Nolan took stock of the scene. Every survivor looked as if they were wearing the same clothes in which they’d been shipwrecked. No blankets or coats in sight. Even the horses in the stalls connected to the corral had blankets!
The men guarding the survivors chatted amiably, but any time someone inside the corral moved, more than one guard would train their guns on them. It would only take one fidgety child and a man with an itchy trigger finger for tragedy to occur. It was Nolan’s job to prevent that.
A dozen or so men passing by, no doubt either on their way to work at a cannery or on their way home, leaned over the corral’s rails and hurled unspeakable insult
s at the frightened survivors. Nolan froze for a split second, shocked at such an ugly display, but when one of the men spit at them, a fury he’d never experienced before overcame him.
Pulling his pistol, he shot once in the air. Everyone in sight jumped in surprise, then gaped at him.
“Enough! Go on home,” he scolded the workers. As they scurried away, he shouted after them, “And do your souls a favor and read the Bible tonight!”
Holstering his gun, he stared down every guard until they looked away, hopefully ashamed for allowing such nonsense to happen in the first place. Then he wheeled on the mayor.
“Grant, are you telling me these people have been forced to sit outside for the last twenty-four hours in wet clothes?”
Arnette looked puzzled for a moment, then a blush crept up his neck. “We, uh…we ain’t got spares.”
Nolan’s snort of disgust spoke more than words ever could.
“Have you at least fed them?”
When Arnette refused to meet his eye, Nolan ground his teeth in anger. Anti-Chinese sentiment had grown steadily over the past several years, but he couldn’t get over the fact his own countrymen had treated these people so inhumanely.
“I see how it is,” he seethed.
Arnette looked more like a beet than a man.
Turning his back on the mayor, Nolan addressed the guards. “Thank you for your service to your country, gentlemen. I will be taking custody of these people to ensure their protection. I will only need two of you to remain, the rest of you can go home.”
The men waited for him to decide which of them would stay. He picked the two who had seemed least amused by the workers’ antics.
“Now,” Nolan said, turning back to Arnette, “my wife, Tilly, was greeted by an older woman. Who is she?”
“That’s my wife, Lily. We got word by telegraph you’d both be coming so—“
“Send someone to tell Tilly she will be cooking for twenty-one tonight.”
The mayor gaped at him. “But we don’t have enough supplies—“
“This is a fishing town, Grant, so don’t try that with me. There are nine canneries within walking distance that are overflowing with fish, and I saw all the lush gardens growing behind everyone’s houses. You’ll get Tilly what she needs—“ he gave the man a stern look “—all of what she needs, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Arnette hesitated for a moment, but saw the steely glint in Nolan’s eye and scurried away without another word.
“Who owns the stable?” he asked one of the two remaining guards.
“Feller named Post. That’s him over there.”
Nolan spotted the man in question and waved him over. “We’re going to move these people inside the stable until the immigration steamer from Vancouver can get here. Go find some men to help you clean out five stalls and put down fresh hay.”
“Five!” Post balked. “I got a full house already. Where am I gonna put five horses?”
Nolan had barely stepped foot in Prince Rupert and already it was too long, if that was the kind of person who lived there.
“I suppose you’ll put them where you made twenty-one people sleep in wet clothes without food.”
Post blinked rapidly, then without a word, ran off to do as he was told.
By that time, Arnette had returned, breathless after sprinting to find Tilly. “I told her,” he panted.
“And?” Nolan asked pointedly.
“She said it would be no problem. She and Lily already commandeered a cannery kitchen and are working on a list of items they’ll need.”
A flush of pride for his wife warmed Nolan’s skin, which turned cool as one of the survivors dared to peek up at him. It was an older man and the look in his eyes was almost hopeful. Nolan leaned over the rail, as the workers had, and the man quickly ducked his head — probably afraid of being spit on again.
“Do any of you speak English?” Nolan called.
The man raised his head again and peered at Nolan over the heads of his friends and family. He shook his head, which amused Nolan. How could the man answer a question he didn’t understand?
“Okay, well I just want you all to know that you’ll be sleeping inside tonight and you will have a hot meal very soon. Oh, and the mayor here will supply each of you with a clean blanket for the night. Right, Grant?”
Arnette dipped his head and sighed. “Yes, sir.”
A smattering of men had gathered to watch the goings-on. No one spoke up, but more than a few looked agitated over Nolan’s instructions. Best to break it up before anything could get started.
“The rest of you, go on home! The Royal Northwest Mounted Police are in charge now. If I see any unauthorized persons loitering around this stable, I’ll have Post clean out one more stall to throw them in! Is that understood?”
The angriest of the men grumbled to each other as they meandered off, shooting daggers from their eyes at Nolan, but he could handle it. Dirty looks were so much better than an angry mob.
“I’m afraid it’s high season,” Mrs. Arnette had said when she’d shown Tilly the tiny shack she and Nolan would share during their time in Prince Rupert. “It’s the only place we have.”
The cabin couldn’t have been any bigger than eight feet square, with just enough room for narrow bunk beds. The only other furnishing was a very small potbellied stove. There wasn’t even a window.
Plus it stunk of fish.
“Oh, it will work just fine,” Tilly had told the mayor’s wife, wondering whether such a lie would keep her out of Heaven. The idea of spending the better part of a week in the nasty hovel had instantly made her regret her decision to come along, but any doubt was erased the moment Mr. Arnette had relayed Nolan’s message.
She and Mrs. Arnette hurriedly cooked up massive pots of food in a cannery’s grungy kitchen. Young boys scampered in and out, delivering all the supplies she needed to feed so many mouths. And to think, she’d almost forgotten to bring her recipe box!
“Why are you putting those in there?” Mrs. Arnette gasped as Tilly dumped three fish heads into a big pot of water.
“I want to make something that tastes familiar to them, and this is the basis for many Chinese meals,” Tilly answered as she chopped onions to add to the pot.
“But…fish heads? We usually use those as bait for crabs or fertilizer for gardens.”
Tilly smiled at the woman’s limited knowledge of world cuisine. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Mrs. Arnette sniffed. “And I’m happy to miss it.”
Tilly shrugged and continued working in silence. No sense in arguing with someone who had no interest in even trying something different.
“I’m surprised you joined your husband,” Mrs. Arnette finally said. Tilly felt the woman’s eyes appraising her.
“Why?”
“Being a Mountie is hard and sometimes dangerous work,” the woman explained as she unpacked another box of supplies. “I’m honestly surprised he allowed it.”
Tilly snorted her amusement. “I didn’t give him much choice.”
Mrs. Arnette shook her head. “You young women these days with your strong-headed ways. Nothing good will come of it, mark my words. A wife should obey her husband in all matters.”
Tilly swallowed her laugh, not wanting to offend Mrs. Arnette’s traditional views. Having grown up in a city, she’d watched the fight for suffrage from behind her mother’s skirts. She herself had not only gone to school, but had forged a career for herself all on her own. And while she’d fallen deeply in love with Nolan, she couldn’t imagine blindly following his every command. No good could come from that, as far as she was concerned.
“Well, I wanted to be of service. It sounded as if these people needed help, and since I know how to cook for large groups, I volunteered.”
“That’s mighty good of you, though I’m sure the other ladies and I could have handled it.”
Tilly gave her a sidelong glance, but bit back what she really wan
ted to ask: So why have they gone hungry for so long?
Within an hour, Tilly was walking the short distance to the stable housing the Chinese immigrants. Six strong men she’d enlisted followed behind, carrying various pots, pans and crates filled with dishes and utensils.
As she approached, Nolan turned away from the men he’d been speaking to and caught sight of her. His grin felt like the warm sun beating down on her, even though it was almost dark and quite chilly. It almost made her forget her concern he no longer wanted her.
“Do I smell food?” he asked with a wicked little wink.
Tilly couldn’t help laughing, despite the dire circumstances. “You can smell food a mile away.”
“Only if it’s yours, my dear. Now let’s get these folks fed.”
Nolan nodded at the guard, who unlocked the doors to the stable, and guided Tilly inside. Some sawhorses with planks laid across them acted as serving tables as her helpers set down their cargo.
“Let out one group of four at a time,” Nolan instructed the guard.
Four people — two adults and two children — in the filthiest clothes Tilly had ever seen peeked out of the open stall, glancing around as if someone was about to hit them over the head. Tilly’s heart broke for the terrified family, so hungry and cold, yet so timid.
“Come,” she said, smiling and waving them toward her. She picked up a bowl and scooped a big helping of rice into it. “Come eat.”
At the smell of food, the children lost their inhibitions and ran forward. Their pleading gazes brought tears to Tilly’s eyes, but she managed to choke them down as she ladled a thick fish stew over the rice. Their little eyes grew wide when she handed a heaping bowl to each of them. They grinned and ran back to their stall. The man and woman bowed low, smiling and murmuring in a language she didn’t understand. But she didn’t need to know Chinese to understand exactly what they were saying.
“I think they like it,” Nolan said, moving so close to her she could feel the heat coming off him.
“I studied with a Chinese chef for a few weeks at school,” she explained as she served up more bowls of food for more half-starved people. “I knew I’d kept those recipes for some reason. I guess this was it.”