Amon

by Kit Morgan

  If so, then thoughts that Amon might not want her may have caused the dark pit she felt growing deep within. “Amon …” she whispered. Even the sound of his name affected her, and her heart began to ache.

  “Maybe some milk’ll help,” Mrs. Upton suggested.

  Nettie gave her a helpless look. “No, but thank you. I think I’d better go to my room now.”

  “But the sewing circle starts in less than half an hour.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Upton, I’ll be there.” She got up from the table and headed for the door. She needed something, but she knew it wasn’t food or water, or medicine, or sleep. She put one hand on the door, ready to push it open. “Amon …” she whispered to herself. “I need to see Amon.”

  The thought spurred her forward and she left the kitchen, wandering out onto the front porch of the hotel. She gazed down the street, half-expecting to see Amon Cotter riding toward her. But there was no one around, just a few horses tied here and there in front of different buildings. What was wrong with her?

  She rubbed her arms with her hands as a chill took her. She must be getting sick. If so, then maybe she’d better find a way to let Amon know she wouldn’t be able to see him that afternoon. But that thought sent her pacing in a circle, before she stopped in front of the hotel doors. “What is wrong with me?!”

  The tears hit again, as did Cutty’s words. Everyone’s passionate about somethin’ …

  “Oh mercy – now my heart decides to join the party!” she muttered to herself. She hadn’t considered love, not seriously. It was a nice idea, but she couldn’t allow herself the luxury – not as a virtual slave in the Baron’s manse, not as a mail-order bride of sorts. Finding out if she and Amon would suit wasn’t the same as finding out if she and Amon were in love. Deeply, undeniably, madly in love …

  Nettie couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. “Blast!” She clenched her fists, went inside, up the stairs and into her room. Once there she sat on the settee, put her face in her hands and wept with the realization that more than anything, she wanted to be in love.

  * * *

  “You headin’ into town?” Jasper asked.

  Amon tightened the cinch of his saddle. “Yes, I’m going to call on Nettie.”

  “Ain’t the sewing circle going on about now?”

  “I have no idea. Is that today?”

  “Far as I know, which means ya might want to keep an eye out.”

  “For what?”

  “Clinton Moresy. Bein’ the day of the circle, he’s liable to show up and have another go at your intended.”

  “That sounds like Clinton. All those women in one spot …”

  “Yep. If he cain’t get to Miss Whitman, he’s sure to bother one of the others, even if they are married.” Jasper spit in the dirt in disgust. “Man has the morals of a polecat …”

  “He’s going to get himself shot if he tries that. Though I know that doesn’t mean he won’t anyway. I swear, he hasn’t got a brain in his head.”

  “Well, hurry up and marry that gal of yers so ya won’t have so much to worry about. He’s less likely to be stupid around her if’n he knows yer hitched.”

  “Maybe. It depends on if he’s been drinking or not. Well, if he tries anything I’ll have another talk with the sheriff. Clinton wouldn’t be the first man run out of town for inappropriate behavior around women. Remember that Slade fellow a couple of years ago?”

  “The one Mr. Berg and the Cooke brothers run off? Yeah, I remember. I wonder whatever happened to him – once he got out of jail, that is. I still cain’t believe the stupid fool came back to cause more trouble.

  “Wherever he is, he’s probably up to no good. Clinton can join him in some prison for all I care, and he will if he bothers Nettie or any of the other women. I’ll see to that.”

  “You do that. Tell the little lady howdy for me.”

  Amon led his horse out of the barn and mounted. “I will.” Without another word he kicked Manuel into a canter and rode away.

  He’d forgotten about Clinton the past few days, probably because all he could think about was Nettie and the wondrous way she made him feel. When he was with her, that is. When he wasn’t it was a different story, one he didn’t like.

  Jasper’s suggestion that he marry Nettie soon had merit. In fact, maybe he ought to pay a visit to Preacher Jo while Nettie was with the sewing circle, just to discuss things? Wait – what if Jasper was right and that no-good Clinton showed up to harass the women? Hmmm … all right. First he’d see how many of the women’s husbands had accompanied them to town. They could keep an eye on them while he talked with Preacher Jo.

  Pleased with the idea, he slowed Manuel down to a trot and pondered the strange feelings he’d battled with last night and this morning. He didn’t feel himself – should he also go see Doc Drake while he was in town, or not worry about it and focus on arranging his wedding?

  And shouldn’t he include Nettie in that? Would she feel left out if he went and set a date and time without her? Would she be mad? What if …?

  He slowed Manuel to a walk. “What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” he asked aloud. “What if she says no?” That thought chilled him to the bone. But why would she? They suited each other fine, didn’t they? She liked his little spot of land where they’d live and admired his woodworking skill. He could provide for her because of it and told her of his plans to also have a small farm. What reason would she have to say no?

  Except …

  Except she was a beautiful Englishwoman, refined, genteel, to the manor born. She could have any man in town she wanted. He’d expressed his love for his craft the day before, and she seemed less than appreciative. Of course, she’d excused herself to go back to the cabin and use the privy, but what if that was just that, an excuse? And why ask Cutty to escort her when he would’ve been happy to do it?

  The thought rankled, and he urged Manuel back into a canter as if making the horse go faster would leave the thought behind. But it didn’t. Instead, doubt accompanied him all the way to Clear Creek.

  * * *

  “It’s a letter from Duncan!” Sadie announced when Wilfred handed her the mail.

  Belle hurried to her side. “Open it! What does he say?”

  “Ladies,” Fanny Fig snapped, “your letter can wait. We need to get started. You don’t see any of us opening our mail, do you?”

  Sadie and Belle’s smiles faded. “I suppose you’re right,” Sadie agreed. She stuffed the letter into her skirt pocket and motioned for Belle to retake her seat. Once settled, everyone stared expectantly at Nettie.

  She caught the looks of curiosity and sighed. “Duncan … the Duke of Stantham?” she asked Sadie.

  “Yes. You know how busy he is. When we get a letter, it’s very special to our family. I’m sure he’s asking after you and your brother.”

  Nettie brushed some hair out of her eyes. She should’ve paid closer attention to her appearance before leaving the hotel. “I doubt the duke would trouble himself asking about us. It’s not like we were ever tenants on his estate. We can’t even be considered neighbors.”

  “Yes, but he did send you here,” Belle pointed out. “So I’m sure he’ll ask. What would you like us to tell him?”

  Nettie froze. What could she say? She had nothing to report and no idea when, or if, she would. Earlier she’d decided that today was as good a day as any to tell Amon of her past. She couldn’t allow him to think of her as anything but what she was. She was not of the gentry. She was nothing more than a servant, often a step away from living in the streets. Cutty would be considered of higher rank than she. Once she told Amon that, then what would he think of her?

  “Ladies, let’s begin, shall we?” Mary Mulligan called before Nettie could think of what to tell Sadie. She sighed in relief and sat back in her chair as Mary continued. “This is a new week and today we start a new project.” She looked at Nettie and smiled. “I think we all know what it’s going to be.”

>   Nettie sat up straight. “Oh, no … I mean, nothing is set.”

  “Nonsense!” Grandma Waller quipped. “You and Amon gotta get hitched sometime. Ya might as well let us sew your dress up so it’s ready when ya do!”

  “I second that!” Irene Dunnigan declared. “No use wasting our time or yours.”

  “But …” Nettie said as she glanced around the circle. “There’s no guarantee Mr. Cotter and I will marry!”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Fanny said with a wave of her hand. “If not Mr. Cotter, some other man will take you on. Of course, you’ll have to learn how to cook and sew, but if your cousins could do it …”

  Penelope rolled her eyes. “Some of us learned quicker than others.” She turned to Nettie. “But she’s right – you just have to learn a little at a time.”

  Nettie felt her stomach go cold. She looked around the circle again, not saying anything yet. No, she wanted Amon to know first. “Very well.”

  “Ah, this’ll be grand!” Mary said, and began to instruct the others. But the woman’s words faded as thoughts of Amon entered Nettie’s mind. She tried to envision herself being courted by another, but her mind’s eye was incapable of conjuring up anything but Amon standing by a juniper tree and giving a branch a gentle caress …

  She swallowed hard. Good grief, had she fallen in love with a lunatic? Of all the things she’d thought about before coming to the mercantile, that was the most unsettling. But perhaps only a madman would consider her for marriage …

  “Would you like long or short lace at the collar?”

  Nettie shook herself from her thoughts when she realized the question was directed at her. “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it much,” she told Annie King, the preacher’s wife.

  “Well, you’d better start thinking about it!” Mrs. Dunnigan barked. “It’s your dress!”

  Nettie rubbed her temples with her fingers, eyes closed. “Yes, yes, I know. I apologize, I’m not quite myself today.” She stopped, every muscle suddenly tight with anticipation. She opened her eyes and knew, knew that Amon was near. How? But her heart raced with the thought.

  “Short or long, both look good,” her cousin Lena said. “Maybe those with more experience can work on the dress and the rest of us could work on the wedding quilt?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Grandma agreed. “That way they’ll both be done in time.” Everyone nodded in agreement then looked at Nettie.

  It was all she could do to sit still as her anticipation of seeing Amon grew. She swallowed hard. “What?” came out a squeak.

  “What do you think?” Mrs. Dunnigan demanded.

  Nettie’s eyes drifted to the mercantile doors. “Yes, fine, fine …” Someone was coming up the porch steps. She could hear their boots loud and clear, as if her sense of hearing was suddenly more acute. She licked her lips without thinking as her breathing picked up. Good grief, what brought this on?

  The doors flung open …

  “Howdy, ladies!” Cutty greeted happily. “Hey, Mrs. Dunnigan – got any licorice whips?”

  Nettie’s shoulders slumped in disappointment as she sank in her chair.

  “Do I look like I’m minding the counter?” Mrs. Dunnigan snapped. “Wilfred!”

  Footsteps could be heard hurrying up the back hall, and Mr. Dunnigan popped out from behind the curtain separating the front and back of the building. “What is it, Irene? What’s the trouble?”

  “Cutty wants to buy something,” she huffed. “You do have money, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” he drawled sweetly and smiled.

  Imogene covered her mouth with a hand to keep from laughing. Cutty turned his smile on her before going to the counter so Wilfred could wait on him. Within moments he was chewing on a piece of licorice while the women decided who was going to work on Nettie’s dress and who would work on the quilt.

  Nettie herself, however, couldn’t take her eyes off the doors. Amon was in town, he had to be. She could feel it in every fiber of her being. But where was he? And should she be so excited to see him? After all, when she did, she was going to have to tell him the truth.

  Twenty

  “My schedule is open,” Preacher Jo told Amon with a smile. “I can marry you and Miss Whitman anytime.”

  “Thank you,” Amon told him and slumped to the porch.

  “Hey now!” Preacher Jo said in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  Amon held up a hand. “Give me a moment.” He got on one knee and grabbed the porch railing with a hand to keep him from falling on his face. “I think maybe I’d better go see Doc Drake after this.”

  “Are you feeling faint? I could run and fetch him.”

  Amon shook his head slowly. “I can make it. I think I’ve got some kind of illness, but don’t know what.”

  Preacher Jo waited as Amon pulled himself to his feet. “What are your symptoms?”

  “It hits out of the blue, but that was the worst incident. I can’t think straight, I feel weak …”

  “Has anyone else around you displayed these symptoms?”

  “No … not that I’ve noticed. And the only ones I’ve been around of late have been Cutty, Miss Whitman and her brother.”

  “I’d best go check on them and see if they’re feeling the same. Could be you picked up something from the Whitmans - they did just come from Europe, after all. Doc Drake would know more about it than me, but I know it can happen.”

  Amon’s eyes widened. The thought that something could take Nettie down, take her away from him, made his heart lurch in his chest. “I have to see Miss Whitman. Right away. If you’ll excuse me, Preacher Jo.”

  “But what about Doc Drake?”

  “He can wait! I have to know Miss Whitman is all right!” He staggered to his horse, mounted it unsteadily and raced off.

  Preacher Jo let out a whistle. “Well, I know of one thing that ails him,” he chuckled. “Lovesick fool. I hope he remembers to see Doc Drake later.” He went inside to get his hat, then go find Cutty and Newton to see how they were. That last thing Clear Creek needed was some sort of epidemic.

  * * *

  Amon reached the mercantile, tied Manuel to a hitching post and, taking a deep breath, headed up the stairs. It was all he could do to stay upright, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that something was ailing him. He’d check on Nettie, then go straight to Doc Drake.

  His chest tight, he opened the door and went inside. As soon as he entered one of the women gasped. Nettie! His chest relaxed at the sight of her and he could feel his strength returning in waves. He took a step toward her, two …

  “What are you doing in here, Mr. Cotter?” Mrs. Dunnigan snapped. “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?”

  He ignored her, his only thought to get to Nettie. For some unexplainable reason, he needed to touch her. His breath was shaky, his jaw trembling, his head light …

  Nettie stood. “Amon? What’s wrong?”

  He reached her, took her hands in his – and relief washed over him. He studied her, and saw she looked pale. “I had to see if you were all right.”

  “I’m … I’m fine.”

  “Land sakes, save it for after the wedding!” Grandma scolded. “We’re trying to work here!”

  Amon nodded in acknowledgement, but his focus was on Nettie. “I’m sorry, but … I’m not feeling well and I had to know how you were doing.”

  “I … well, I didn’t feel well this morning either, truth be told.”

  Fanny Fig, who had been sitting next to Nettie, scooted her chair away. “Why’d you come in here then?”

  Amon ignored her. “Where’s your brother? Is he feeling all right?”

  “I haven’t seen him this morning.”

  “What about Cutty?”

  “I feel fine,” Cutty said from across the room, a licorice whip in his mouth. “What’s ailing ya?”

  “I … I don’t know,” he gasped and took a step back.

  “Amon!” Nettie cried in alarm. “What’s wrong?
”

  He gripped her arms and without warning pulled her close. A groan escaped him at the contact and he tightened his hold, as if letting her go would be the death of him. But why? Then it hit him: what if he did die? What if he’d contracted some rare disease from Europe and the others were immune to it? Worse, what if he wasn’t the only one susceptible? “Nettie, we need to see Doc Drake …”

  “Let go of her at once!” Fanny cried. “How indecent! Why, you’re not even married!”

  “Shut up, Fanny, you harebrain!” Mrs. Dunnigan said as she got up. “Can’t you see something’s wrong?” She turned to Amon. “Merciful heavens, get out of my store and take her with you! Now!”

  Wilfred shoved past her and rushed over to Amon, Cutty right behind him. “C’mon, son, I’ll help get ya over to Doc’s house. Grandma, you’d better come too.”

  “Will do,” she said and stood. “Both the doctors are in so between the two of them, they should be able to figure out what ails ya.” She gave Amon a wide berth as she headed for the door.

  “Who knows how contagious it is!” Fanny cried as she reached the doors.

  Nettie looked into Amon’s eyes. “What’s going to happen?”

  Amon’s face was pained. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I think I’d die if something were to happen to you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Amon …,” she whispered.

  He let one of his arms fall away, the other he kept around her. “Let’s go.”

  Wilfred and Cutty stood ready to help if need be. Imogene got up and joined them. “I’m going too.”

  “Imogene, no,” Cutty told her. “If’n this is somethin’ bad, I don’t want you to catch it. I’ve been around these two an awful lot, which means … well, I might have it too.”

  “Which is why I’m joining you! I’ve seen my share of disease and sickness in India, maybe I can help.”

  Cutty studied her a moment, weighing the possibilities. She might be a help at that. Besides, he knew how stubborn the woman could be – even if he demanded she stay in the mercantile, she’d probably come along anyway. “Oh, all right, but stay out in the parlor. If’n Doc Drake or Waller wants to ask ya somethin’, they can go to the parlor to do it.”