Clearly Will had told the truth regarding the doctor’s poor bedside manner. The heat of the man’s glare and the pinch in his voice made her want to quit talking and send him on his way. “Only that I’ve heard much about you.” She swallowed before plunging on, hoping she would hold up under his wilting look. “I’d like your opinion on something.”
“If you’re a friend of Stanton’s, ask him if you want free medical advice. I charge.”
She cleared her throat. “Of course, and he should too.”
Dr. Forsythe rolled his eyes. “He needs a backbone more than he needs school.”
“Actually, that’s what I was going to ask about. Do you think he’d make a good doctor?”
The man rolled his big head around, as if the words in his gullet needed coercion to leave his mouth. “The boy’s got a sixth sense. He knows which Indian trickery herbs actually work—either that or people believe whatever he prescribes will help. Mind tricks can be effective, I suppose.
“It’s not that I won’t try new methods if I have no luck, but I don’t like being forced to provide one.” He snatched up his satchel and dipped his head. “I haven’t any more time to chitchat. I need a haircut before I’m summoned by some dirt-poor farmer expecting me to save his children from the diseases they get from refusing to purge themselves periodically.”
He brushed past her, muttering under his breath.
“I’ll let Mr. Stanton know you’re looking for him.”
The man waved at her dismissively without even turning around.
This was the man people hoped would care for them on their sickbed? No wonder Will had a line of customers he didn’t want. Grumpy Will was a lark compared to Dr. Forsythe.
The doctor stopped on the porch to talk to some poor drenched man. She busied herself with emptying one of the front shelves so she could move it. If she made room up front for a counter, Will shouldn’t oppose having one made.
But with what funds? Maybe that had been more his concern than not wanting to follow her advice.
The animated conversation on the porch grew louder. Dr. Forsythe didn’t seem happy about being stopped by the tall blond keeping him from his precious haircut.
She’d never before seen the other man either, thin and fair-haired, with sideburns and a mustache. Hadn’t that been how Will had described Axel? He’d said he favored his mother.
As she moved closer to the window, the movement must have caught the blond’s eye, because the man glanced toward her in the middle of his conversation. He patted Dr. Forsythe on the back, and the doctor looked none too pleased about the affront to his person. They parted ways, and the blond stranger opened the door with a big smile on his face.
Her heart pounded, and her mouth turned salty. She needed water.
The man pulled off his waterlogged hat and looked right at her, but his smile stuck. His gaze dropped to her cheek, tempting her to cover the scar that itched under his perusal.
He cocked his jaw and replaced his hat. “Silly me, I meant to hit the post office first.” Then he turned on his heel.
“Wait, are you . . .”
His back tensed, but his hand rested on the doorknob instead of turning it.
“Axel Langston?”
His shoulders fell limp, and his hand dropped. Had he heard her? But if he hadn’t, why was he still standing there?
He turned around slowly, his hat against his chest. “You know me?” His eyes jumped to her scar again and then scanned her entire body.
“Sort of.” If she’d had a shawl, she’d have tucked it around her tighter. Axel had every right to look her over, but the scrutinizing he gave her wasn’t a man looking at her with admiration or loathing, more like assessing a cow or a horse at an auction. “I’m Eliza.”
“Naw.” Instead of smiling again, he blinked and cocked his head.
“I assure you, I am.”
“You’re Eliza? Cantrell?” He took a step toward her. “What are the odds that . . . that you . . . look like you do?”
Was that a bad thing or a good thing? “I guess I don’t meet expectations.”
“It’s just that you look exactly like the woman I’ve envisioned for the past few weeks.” Axel squinted and ran his tongue around his mouth. “Dreamt about you lots.”
She released the breath she’d been holding, and her shoulders relaxed. Was that true or was he trying to be sweet? “For some reason I thought you’d be disappointed with me. I know I’m not the fairest of face, and this scar doesn’t help.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for staring, but it’s . . . unexpected. The scar looks recent.”
“I got it two weeks ago on the train.”
“You were supposed to come in last week.”
“Yes, but I got impatient.”
The lazy smile he threw at her made her feel a bit better.
“The train was robbed and one of the men didn’t take too kindly to me hiding my money.”
His smile couldn’t melt the fear that her next words might have on her future. “He hit me with the side of his pistol and stole everything I had.”
His eyebrows raised. “All your savings?”
She nodded, waiting for him to process her penniless state.
He looked at the ceiling, his eyes and jaw working as if calculating.
And she’d thought trying to ascertain Will’s feelings this morning had been impossible.
“That isn’t the best news, but I’ve set up more business partnerships while I’ve been away, and—”
“For your mother? That’s wonderful.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know about my mother? I told you to wait.” His abrasive tone made her skin prickle.
“I . . .” She couldn’t lie, since she’d received his letter before visiting Mrs. Langston. “I had no choice. Your father figured out who I was when he delivered your letter to Will. Since he knew about me, I figured he’d tell your mother.”
“I’m sure you found out that didn’t happen.”
“Yes.” Whatever had torn his parents apart might affect their own marriage. “Can you tell me why they’re separated?”
“No one in this town knows why.”
“But as your soon-to-be wife . . .”
He loosened up a bit. Had he believed she’d not have him? Though grilling him the second he walked through the door wasn’t exactly welcoming. Oh, to be able to start all over.
“Unfortunately, it’s a family secret. I’ll tell you, but I’d like you to be family first.” He smiled. Not as nice as Will’s, but he was quite handsome. He certainly took after his mother—a good thing, since Jedidiah’s brooding looks made her feel uneasy. “So how about tomorrow?”
“What about tomorrow?” Did she miss something?
“Becoming family?”
“Oh.” She smashed a hand against the sudden upturn of her heart. She’d intended to marry him the day she arrived, but the weeks of waiting had lulled her into thinking she had time. “But you just got into town and learned I’ve lost all my money and—”
“Where’s Will?”
She glanced behind her because Axel was looking in that direction, though she knew she’d see no one. “Gone somewhere.”
“He left you alone to tend the shop?”
She nodded curtly. “I can handle the store just fine.”
He bobbed his head as he took in that information. “If Will already trusts you with the store, then that will help immensely when I have to go out on business.”
“What kind of business?”
His lip twitched, and he sucked in a breath. “I’ve got a leather worker near Atchison who gave me exclusive rights to sell his wares for this area, and the rancher I stayed with has a ton of bees, and there are . . . other opportunities.”
“Surely there can’t be enough business opportunities to justify gallivanting about the county.”
He blinked at her. Seemed she’d quickly learn if her future husband could tolerat
e her mouth’s runaway opinions.
“I’ll get the suppliers, Eliza—you’ll sell the wares.”
While playing sick at the boardinghouse, she’d pondered the most likely reasons a man would disappear for days without telling people where he was. And one of the scenarios she’d feared the most involved the facts that Kansas had recently become a dry state and Will said Axel drank. She pulled in a breath to fortify her nerves. “Are you arranging to sell alcohol?”
His eyes narrowed. “And if I am?”
She tapped her foot. “It’s illegal now.”
“Unrightly so.”
“Axel, I know it’s an easy way to make money, and I’m all for making money . . . ”
He shrugged as if he expected her to agree with his running booze.
“But I just went over the books,” she told him, “and we can improve the store’s profits. Let’s focus on this business. I promise that with my idea to copy Mr. Woolworth’s practices from back home, if we can get Will to accept some changes, we’ll be profitable. We don’t need ill-gotten gain.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Look, I know alcohol is controversial—my own father would’ve been upset if Pennsylvania passed a similar law—but if I’m going to be your wife, I want to be certain you stay alive and out of jail.” And following the law.
She fiddled with her hands. He’d have to promise not to run liquor if she married him. Marrying a perfect person wasn’t her goal, but she wanted someone she could talk to and make decisions with. And unless Axel was very different than his letters suggested, he’d listen to her. Hadn’t he set up the displays exactly as she’d imagined?
He leaned against the shelves. “We won’t make near enough that way.”
“We’ll make enough to cover our expenses.”
“My mother, she’s . . . going to need financial help.”
“I understand.” She put her hand on his arm but quickly pulled away when someone stomped across the porch. “We’ll talk about how to help her. Promise me we’ll talk about everything.” Hadn’t that been Julia’s sole advice?
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t abandon my contacts in the middle of an agreement.” He pulled at his collar. “I just started. You don’t abandon people like that without risking your neck. I’ll have to fulfill my obligations first.”
She could well imagine the kind of men orchestrating the running of liquor. “But you will stop?”
“I only thought to make some quick money, seeing we need it. . . .” He glanced toward the back, as if he’d find Will poring over their terrible ledgers. “But yes, when possible.”
“All right.” She reached out and squeezed his forearm. Wanting to impress his wife and care for his mother could send many a man into dubious dealings.
She dropped her hand when the front door swung open.
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Lynville Tate’s leveled glare might have toppled over a smaller man.
Axel turned to him and frowned. “What did you come in for?”
The shorter man’s thumbs firmly grasped his belt. His eyes spit fire. “I came in for assistance.” He turned to her and smiled. “Mind helping me pick out a new hacksaw?”
“Why would you ask my fiancée to help you find a saw instead of me?”
“Fiancée?” Lynville sputtered.
Eliza grimaced at her shoes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Lynville believe her available as long as his pockets seemed bottomless. He’d probably never cross the threshold of the Men’s Emporium again.
“Yes, Eliza and I’ll be married tomorrow.”
She swiped at the dust on her bodice to disguise her hands’ trembling. Tomorrow. But that’s what mail-order brides did—they married the day they arrived. Of course they’d not wait.
“What if another man would like a shot at her?”
Oh no. She couldn’t do this. She gave him the best smile she could muster. “Lynville, I’m flattered you’d think another man would want to marry me, but I’ve been engaged to Axel for over two months now. It’s a little late for competition.” Would Will have wanted to throw his hat in the ring too if he’d not known she was engaged?
Why did she care about that answer? Besides it was highly unlikely, since he’d run away from her that morning.
“Right.” Lynville threw back his shoulders and thrust out his chin. “I still need a saw.”
Letting out her breath, she smiled at both of them. “I do believe Axel is right. He’d be a much better adviser than I.”
She turned and hastened to the back room and sank onto a crate. How could a few weeks change her eagerness to wed so much? Axel still wanted to marry her despite her poverty. He’d just now listened to her—as he had in their letters—and she’d seen how much he cared for his mother. Not to mention he was a rather handsome man.
So why did her heart sink a little when she compared his looks to Will’s and found them wanting?
What a shallow woman she’d become if she felt disappointment over a mere bout of attraction. She was not nearly as handsome as either of them, and she’d never have caught their eye back in Pennsylvania.
The awkwardness of her first meeting with Axel must have jumbled her feelings. But their next conversation didn’t have to be so clumsy. She sucked up her breath and stood. Once Lynville left, she’d go out and discuss wedding plans.
Chapter 11
“Thank you for coming in today.” Eliza wrapped an elderly man’s items, but her smile wavered. Axel stood behind her, as he had most of the afternoon, watching her every move.
“Come again.”
“Will do, little lady.” The man actually saluted her and walked out whistling.
The sound of soft clapping made her turn, her neck warm with her fiancé’s adulation.
Axel’s grin was huge. “No wonder Will left the store under your care. We certainly don’t have the talent to unearth a customer’s need he doesn’t even know about.” He pulled out his timepiece and happily sighed. “Ah, quitting time.”
As he ambled down the center aisle to the front, she wilted against the counter. Had she ever had a longer day? That morning, with the strange tension she’d felt during the feather incident before Will ran off, and then Axel watching her like a hawk scrutinizing a field of prairie grasses.
She opened the cashbox and started counting pennies—something soothing, something normal.
At the scrape of the front door’s metal bolt being thrown, the gooseflesh she’d had the moment she’d met Axel returned.
Alone . . . together.
Axel had done nothing but admire her for the past three hours. A strange sensation that. What man had truly admired her before? Well, besides Lynville, but his scrutiny hadn’t felt as . . . deep. Axel should have quit staring and gotten to work, but how many men had to come to grips with marrying a woman they’d only seen for a few hours? And one who wasn’t a stunner. The trembling in her stomach grew.
Tomorrow. She’d agreed to marry him tomorrow. He’d left for half an hour to talk with the reverend, but what else needed doing? She tried to draw in a deep breath, but her lungs refused to work.
How would Will take their sudden news? Would working with him go smoother now that Axel had returned? Or would Will scowl all the more?
“You look out of sorts, darling.” Axel came up behind her, lightly pressing his hand to the small of her back.
She put a hand to her throat and swallowed. “Now that the store’s closed, I realized how much I have to finish before tomorrow.” She began counting the nickels to take her mind off the heat from his palm traveling up to warm her cheeks.
Axel reached around to close the cashbox’s lid. “I’ll count the money later. We don’t have to get everything done tonight, since we’re closing the shop tomorrow for the wedding.”
Her fingers itched to continue counting. How could someone just stop in the middle? Axel’s hands enveloped hers, and he leaned
against the counter propped on an elbow. His eyes drooped lazily, and his alluring smile spurred her heart into a gallop.
Every time he caught her eye, she wanted to burst into silly giggles to distract him from watching the heat rush into her face. A man who could turn her into an uncomfortable knot of girlishness must have had lots of practice provoking women to blush. How many other women had he flirted with? Because he was mighty good at it.
She worked to relax her hands in his. Marriage to a stranger had been less alarming before he’d touched her.
“Don’t tremble.” He turned over her hand and brought it up to press a kiss into her palm, then winked at her. “This will work.”
She pulled her hand from his. To hide the impulsive reflex, she wiped both hands on her apron. They were clammy. “I know we’d intended to marry the day I arrived, but living with Mrs. Lightfoot for the past couple weeks . . . I’ll have to explain to her first, and then pack, and . . . and eat, of course.”
“We can eat at the hotel.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m not hungry quite yet.”
“Well then, how about you give your good news to the circus lady, then get dressed up. I’ll come over at six.”
Circus lady? Irena was so much more than that. But the moniker probably wouldn’t disturb her, being she had indeed been a circus lady. And people surely called the poor woman worse. “All right, but what about Will?”
Axel’s brow rose. “What about Will?”
Yes, Will. Or perhaps she should have called him Mr. Stanton? At least William. Far more professional. When had she started calling him Will, anyway? And why was she thinking about him while her fiancé stood in front of her, his mesmerizing blue eyes taking in every inch of her face? “Um . . . when William returns, he’ll think I’ve neglected my duties.”
Axel pushed the cashbox against the wall. “He’ll figure it out when I tell him tonight.”
“But”—she glanced at the ledger—“maybe I should do the math. I reviewed the books earlier today and wondered if I shouldn’t clean up his numbers.”
“Naw.” Axel’s hand cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze back to him. “Will struggles with numbers and reading, sure, but if something doesn’t add up, he brings it to me to fix. A penny off here or there doesn’t matter. But if you want, I’ll do the books instead of him—we need to save you for the customers.”
A Bride in Store Page 11