Amon

by Kit Morgan

  “You’ve got to get out more,” Eloise said, her face solemn. She turned to her older sister. “Penelope, could we come to your house for tea this week? It would be so much cozier than the hotel. Then we can get to know Nettie better.”

  Penelope looked Nettie over as if looking for something to help her weigh a decision. “I don’t see why not. When would you like to come?”

  Nettie glanced between Penelope and Eloise. “Well, I …” She looked at her brother across the mercantile. “I suppose it depends.”

  “On what?” Apple asked.

  “On her intended, silly,” Fina said with a shake of her head. “The woman still has to meet him.”

  “Who is your intended?” Lena asked.

  “That’s something Belle and I will be discussing with Nettie and her brother,” Sadie cut in as she glanced around, her eyes settling on Belle. “Right?”

  Belle turned from her Aunt Irene and nodded. “Yes, of course … over supper, perhaps!”

  “Exactly,” Sadie agreed and turned back to Nettie with a smile.

  By this time Newton had approached them. “When is this, you say?”

  Sadie and Belle exchanged a quick glance. “Let’s see, today is Tuesday …,” Sadie mused. “Thursday?”

  Newton took Nettie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thursday, then. I’m afraid, however, that we haven’t any way to get out to your ranch.”

  “Not to worry,” Belle told him. “We’ll send Jefferson into town to fetch you.”

  “Your husband’s stepfather?” he asked. “Seth has told me of him. Very well, we’ll look forward to it.”

  “In the meantime, we could have tea tomorrow!” Apple said with glee.

  “Yes, and you can tell us of England and all that’s been happening there in our absence,” added Fina.

  “I’m afraid neither my brother nor I will be much help on that score,” Nettie told her solemnly.

  “Surely you’ve attended at least some balls and musicales,” Imogene said, joining the conversation. “We’ve been away so long, I’d love to hear what’s been happening.”

  Newton put his arm around his sister. “We haven’t anything to tell. I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment.”

  Everyone noted his protective stance and went silent. Nettie let out the breath she was holding. She didn’t want to answer any more questions and she especially didn't want to let them know that she was never allowed out in polite society. What servant ever was? She looked at Newton and gave him a weak smile. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel now.”

  “Of course,” he said as he removed his arm and extended it to her. She took it, and without another word he escorted her from the mercantile. Once outside he was quick to shut the door behind them. “That went fairly well, don’t you think?”

  “It was horrible.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating.” He led her down the mercantile’s porch steps to the street. “Those women are simply curious about us. We’re new here – it’s only natural that they would ask questions. None of which did you any harm, I might point out.”

  “None, other than the last. What are they going to think of me when they find out I was nothing more than a scullery maid in my own home?”

  “I don’t think these people will care a whit. After all, they’re from all walks of life, from all over the world.” He turned her toward the hotel. “I think we should have tea with them.”

  Nettie gave him a bug-eyed expression. “I’m not ready. They’ll ask so many questions. Ones I probably won’t want to answer.”

  “We’re going to have to get to know our relatives sometime. What’s wrong with sooner rather than later?”

  Nettie stopped and faced him. “Newton, I realize they’re our relatives, but they came here under different circumstances.”

  “Most of them came under the same circumstance as you. They needed husbands.”

  “Yes, but they had status before they left. I’ll be a laughing stock among them when they find out … what became of me.”

  He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “Dear sister, none of that matters here. No one is above your station in this place because there’s no such thing as ‘station’ here. America has no aristocracy, no ton – at least not out here in Oregon. Everyone is on an even slate. I mean, Mary Mulligan has an Irish brogue as thick as oxtail soup – do you think she was a duchess in Ireland?”

  “Well … I suppose not. I mean, she wouldn’t be here if she was …”

  “Exactly – she and her husband probably came over during the Famine, and if you know a worse status than that I’d like to hear it. So stop worrying, will you?”

  “I can’t seem to help it,” she said and looked away. “How unbearable it became. All the taunts, the threats …”

  “It’s over now, do you understand?” He said as he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted up her head. “We have a chance at a new life here. Let’s not waste it.”

  Nettie swallowed hard and nodded as she closed her eyes. He was right, of course – he usually was. She just hoped she didn’t suffer the same cruelty at the hands of her own relatives that she had at the hands of the Baron’s servants. If so, it didn’t matter if she was there to get married or not – she wouldn’t stay.

  * * *

  Amon rode into town, his heart in his throat. He’d been fine since he came to Clear Creek two years ago to work on the hotel. His emotions had been level, even. It was one of the things that made him such a fine craftsman. He had steady hands.

  But not today. Today he felt as if he was caught in one of those California earthquakes. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

  Well, that braggart Clinton Moresy was back – that might be part of it. He’d always managed to get a burr under Amon’s saddle. The man was a bald-faced liar, not to mention a cheat and occasionally a drunkard. And he had a squeaky voice that set Amon’s teeth on edge. All in all, Clinton was, to use Jasper’s colorful expression, “bad news on burnt toast.” He rolled his eyes at the thought as he rode up to the bank, brought Manuel to a stop in front of a hitching post and dismounted.

  A man caught his eye, mainly because he sensed he was a stranger. When he looked closer, he was right – not only had he never seen this man before, but he’d never seen the woman who accompanied him either.

  But suddenly he knew who she must be. His match … his bride … his intended … whatever the term, she was the one Sadie and Belle Cooke had chosen for him. Or was it the other way around? Under the circumstances, of course, it didn’t matter – he’d already said no, and had no regrets about that. She certainly was beautiful, though. And tall – something he appreciated, being so tall himself. The top of her head would at least reach his nose …

  Amon pulled his hat down and turned away to check his saddle as they passed. He didn’t want to be identified as the man who didn’t want her. But how could he be if she’d never seen him before? Though for all he knew, Harrison’s wife had already given her a full description of him. Gads, he hoped not.

  He turned and watched them head for the hotel. Yes, that had to be his so-called intended all right. At least she looked sturdy, not some petite little china doll that wouldn’t last through an Oregon winter. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want anything to do with marriage – even in January with the snow flying every which way, he wanted to be out in the open. He couldn’t make a woman suffer that with him – or stay inside for her sake.

  Amon pushed the thought aside and went into the bank. “Morning, Levi,” he greeted and walked up to the counter.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cotter,” Levi Stone said with a grin. “What brings you to town?”

  “Money,” he told him. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Of course. Putting in, or taking out?”

  “Putting in,” Amon pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and set it on the counter.

  Levi dumped it out and counted the coins. “Well … a
lmost fifty dollars. Business must be good, nu?”

  “Yes, and I’ve been saving up.”

  “Best to keep your money here, then, instead of at the men’s camp. You never know who might have sticky fingers.”

  “That’s why I'm here,” he grumbled.

  “I see.” Levi glanced around the bank, even though they were the only two in it. “I heard Clinton Moresy was back.”

  “You heard right.”

  “He keeps getting his fingers into things, someone's liable to shoot him.”

  “True enough.”

  Just then the door to the bank burst open. Speak of the devil … Clinton Moresy strode up to the counter, his forehead beaded in sweat. “Levi! D’I leave any money here?”

  Levi’s expression made him look like he’d suddenly developed a toothache. “You still have an account with us, Mr. Moresy, but it’s at zero. You took everything out before you left town, remember?”

  “Curses!” Clinton groaned. He turned to Amon. “Cotter, kin I borrow a dollar from ya?”

  Amon raised a single eyebrow at the question. “What for?”

  “Gotta buy sumpin’ pretty fer a lady. I’m gettin’ hitched!”

  “Married?!” Levi said. He looked amused by the thought, as if Clinton had told them he was buying a baby dragon. The two seemed about as likely.

  “Who?” Amon asked, though he already knew. His stomach knotted.

  “New gal in town!” Clinton said proudly.

  Amon thought a moment, as far as he knew neither Colin nor Harrison would’ve had time to speak to Clinton on the matter. He then looked Clinton over carefully. From the looks and smell of him, he’d just gotten out of a bathtub. He’d never seen the man so clean!

  “Well? Are ya givin’ me the money or not?” Clinton snapped as his eyes flicked between Amon and the coins Levi had been counting.

  “Tell me,” Amon said as he leaned casually against the counter, “does this lady know she’s getting married to you?”

  Levi made a strangled noise and hid a smile behind his hand.

  “Ain’t asked ‘er yet, but she’s got no reason to say no!” Clinton said with a sneer.

  “And you think a dollar is going to tip the scales for you?”

  “Dagnabit, Cotter!” Clinton squealed, “just gimme a dollar and be done with it, will ya?”

  Amon watched Levi sweep the coins from the counter to deposit them. Good – that would keep Clinton from just grabbing one and walking off. “Clinton, has it occurred to you that a wife needs a roof over her head and food on the table?”

  “What’s that got to do with anythin’?” Clinton asked, eyes narrowed.

  “He does have a point, Clinton,” Levi added.

  “You keep out of this!” Clinton said, glaring at Levi. “This’s got nothin’ to do with you, you –”

  “On the contrary,” Amon interrupted before Clinton could finish. He’d suspected that the reprobate was preparing to slander Levi’s Jewish heritage, and if he had, Amon would’ve felt honor-bound to beat the man senseless. “I think Mr. Stone here has everything to do with this. If you’re planning on getting married, you’d best have a healthy bank account.”

  “I don’t need no bank account to get married! Heck, she can live on bread and water for all I care!”

  Amon and Levi exchanged a worried glance. “But if you don’t even care about what you’re going to feed her, what do you want her for?” Amon asked. “You have no house, you have no money …”

  “I don’t care about that stuff! What do I want her for? Same thing you’d want her for, I’d bet!” His leer left no doubt as to what that might be. “Now ya gonna gimme that dollar or not?”

  “You plan on purchasing her for a dollar?” Amon remarked dryly, crossing his arms.

  “Naw, ya stupid overgrown tree trunk – I’m gonna get her a present to warm ‘er up, then I’ll pop the question. With any luck, I’ll have ‘er in my bedroll tonight!”

  Amon shook his head and tried not to groan. “And you think she’s just going to fall into your arms, is that it?” He looked at Levi, who was rolling his eyes in disbelief.

  “If she don’t, then I’ll just take ‘er!” Clinton declared.

  Amon drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. “No, you won’t,” he said evenly, his voice low and laced with threat. Even if he wasn’t interested in the woman himself, he wasn’t about to see Clinton act out his idea of “marriage” on the poor girl.

  Clinton bristled. “Stay away from her, Cotter. She’s mine!”

  “No. She isn’t.”

  “I think I’ve heard enough,” Levi interjected. “Please leave, Mr. Moresy, before I throw you out.” Which, Amon mused, Levi could easily do – Clinton was a head shorter than the banker, and in far worse shape. “And then tell the sheriff of your ‘plans’.”

  “I’ll back you,” Amon added. “And no, Clinton, I’m not giving you any money.”

  Clinton scowled up at both of them. “Well, I don’t need yer help anyway! I aim to have her, Cotter, and you can’t stop me!”

  Amon took in the determined gleam in Clinton’s eyes. The man cared nothing for the woman except to satisfy his lust. It made Amon’s stomach roil. Anger like he’d never felt before rose up out of nowhere, and his hands balled into fists. It was only with monumental effort that he didn’t plant one of them in Clinton’s disgusting face. “You can’t marry her.”

  “And why not?” Clinton spat.

  Amon knew he was going to regret saying it. But necessity, not to mention propriety, demanded it. “Because she’s already spoken for.”

  Four

  “Spoken fer?” Clinton harrumphed. “Who says she’s spoken fer? I aim to have ‘er an’ that’s that!” He spun on his heel and stormed out of the bank before Amon or Levi could say another word.

  Levi sighed and shook his head. “Good riddance. But you’d better go after him before he causes trouble.” He handed Amon the receipt he’d written out while Clinton had been running his mouth.

  Amon took it. “Thanks, Levi. No doubt he’s heading straight for the hotel and that woman.” He headed for the door.

  “I’ll lock up and get Sheriff Hughes,” Levi called after him.

  “No, I’ll handle this myself.” Amon left the bank and jumped off the boardwalk to the street to see which way Clinton might’ve gone. Sure enough, he was making a beeline for the hotel, his stubbly legs moving as fast as they could without breaking into a run. Amon groaned. If he didn’t do something, the woman’s brother might just shoot Clinton. Then again, that might not be such a bad idea …

  … no, he’d best get after him. He hated that he’d just made a commitment to this strange woman, or any woman for that matter. But if not Clinton, some other man would take his place, then another and another. Though wasn’t that what Amon wanted? Let the woman get married - why should he be the one to protect her from the likes of Clinton Moresy?

  The woman’s face flashed before him and he stopped breathing altogether. What was that about? His heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach, and for a few seconds he couldn’t move. God, what’s going on? he thought.

  That flash came again, and something deep down inside him clicked, like tumblers in a lock. For whatever reason, he had to get to her, that something bad would happen if he didn’t. And yet his feet wouldn’t move. It was the oddest sensation: a combination of fear, desperation and that boiling anger …

  Amon shook himself. What was wrong with him? Maybe he was coming down with the influenza? No, it couldn’t be that – he’d never been sick a day in his life. He grumbled at himself and headed down the street.

  By the time he reached the hotel, Clinton had already slipped inside like a spider racing into a dark hole. The lobby was empty, and the double doors to the dining room were closed. “Where is everybody?” he muttered to himself, then looked toward the staircase. “He wouldn’t dare,” he thought aloud. But this was Clinton, who most certainly woul
d. Granted, the little crook didn’t even know what room the woman was in, but it would be just like him to pound on all the doors until he found her …

  “This is ridiculous,” Amon muttered as he ascended the stairs. Just as he’d thought, once he reached the top, he caught sight of Clinton going down the hall trying each and every door. “Moresy, what are you doing?”

  Clinton spun to face him. “Get outta here, Cotter – this is none of yer affair!”

  Amon stood tall, hands at his sides as his whole body tensed. It was a good thing he wasn’t wearing a gun, or he’d have drawn it. “Clinton, leave the woman be,” he said, his voice calmer than he felt.

  “What’s she to ya?” Clinton spat, and turned to the door in front of him.

  Suddenly Amon noticed that Clinton was wearing a gun. Of course he was – nothing about this situation was going to be simple, was it? “I told you, she’s spoken for,” he said before he had time to think.

  Whatever had clicked deep within him did it again. It was as if he could sense her nearby. What in Heaven’s name …?

  “Who?” Clinton demanded as he came down the hall toward him with angry strides. “Who spoke fer ‘er?”

  Amon swallowed. Here it was. He was so going to regret this … “I did.”

  “You?” He took a few steps back and looked Amon up and down. “She just got inna town! How could ya have any say? Jasper told me ya ain’t even been to Clear Creek since she got here!”

  “Colin and Harrison Cooke came to the men’s camp yesterday and spoke with me about her. I’ve decided to take them up on their offer.”

  Clinton’s mouth dropped open like a brick was tied to his jaw. He stared at Amon, dumbfounded.

  Amon heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. Clinton was too dumbstruck to look past him, so Amon turned slightly to see who it was.

  It was her! And the man he’d seen earlier – her brother, from the look of him. “Is something wrong, gentlemen?” he asked.

  Clinton finally found his wits. “This lyin’, cheatin’, no-good skunk says he has claim on that woman! An’ I aim to see he don’t!”