The Bartender's Mail Order Bride

by Cindy Caldwell

  By the end of his rendition, toes and fingers were tapping, and he received a full round of applause.

  “Well, Sam, that was wonderful.” Mr. Archer rose and shook his hand. Meg glanced at Mrs. Allen, who looked puzzled, and she had a sinking feeling that this might be their undoing.

  She was almost sure of it when Mrs. Allen said, “Sam, why don’t you play something that Meg can sing to.

  Sam frowned as he looked at Meg, and she realized that they’d been so busy, he hadn’t even heard her sing.

  She cringed as her father said, “I don’t believe you’ve heard my girls sing, Sam. Do you know anything from The Pirates of Penzance? Their mother and I saw it in New York and Katie brought back the music and taught the girls. She used to play it while they sang, and I’d be honored if you’d do so.”

  “In fact I do, Mr. Archer and would be happy to. I wasn’t aware that you all—sing.”

  Meg stood and joined her sisters in the customary line and was pleased that Mrs. Archer smiled as she watched.

  Meg closed her eyes as Sam started to play, this particular song holding a space in her heart like none other. In fact, it was one in which she had a solo part and she was anxious to sing it, hoping that Sam would like it.

  As the girls began to sing, Mrs. Allen’s eyes grew wide, then soft as she swayed to the music and looked at each girl down the row.

  As Meg’s solo began, Clara held her hand over her chest and Meg noticed that even Maria had come out of the kitchen to listen. As she continued, eyes closed, she was vaguely aware that the music had stopped, but she continued. They had sung this song many times a cappella, with no music, and there was no reason to stop now.

  As the girls all sang the final chorus together, she saw Sam stand and Mrs. Allen dab at her eyes with a handkerchief she’d pulled form her sleeve. Even her father was brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Meg smiled as they ended, knowing in her heart that it had been one of their better renditions, and smiled and nodded down the line at her sisters as, after a brief silence, applause erupted from the room.

  Pepper giggled and the twins blushed. Tara and Rose stood stock still as if a bit shocked but Meg smiled the biggest smile she thought she ever had as she looked over at Sam.

  She lost her voice as her eyes met his. She took a step back at the look of utter amazement she saw on Sam’s face as he stood and stiffened, his mouth open. He looked from Meg to the piano, then back again.

  Beau Archer cleared his throat, breaking the spell for everyone in the room but Sam. He continued to stare at Meg until heat began to rise under her collar. He’d said nothing, and she broke his gaze, now unsure of what he might be feeling.

  Maria took a deep breath and announced, “Supper is ready. Please, this way.” She gestured to Mrs. Allen, urging her to enter first as the rest followed.

  As the party exited to the dining room, Meg turned away until Sam took her elbow and pulled her back toward him.

  She looked into his crystal blue eyes, her heart freezing, then beating a mile a minute. “Sam, please say something. You’re making me nervous.”

  Sam shook his head slowly, and Meg held her breath.

  “I don’t know what to say. I…I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything like that, Meg.”

  She let out her breath and laughed. “Oh, yes, my sisters and I have been singing together all of our lives. I’m pleased that you enjoyed it.”

  He took her hands in his and brought them up to his chest. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, you all sing very well together, but you—you made my heart swell. And my playing better.”

  Meg looked down at her shoes as her cheeks flushed. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled.

  Sam reached for her hands and pressed his lips on them, sending tingles through Meg as their eyes never left one another’s.

  “I see more wonderful things about you every day,” he said. “I would have never known.” He frowned slightly, shaking his head as he held his arm out to Meg. “Shall we join the others?”

  Meg cleared her throat and placed her arm through Sam’s, silently agreeing with him that yes, they did make beautiful music together.

  Chapter 27

  Supper had been served, Maria’s meal well received, and Mrs. Allen seemed to enjoy her introduction to a different kind of food, Maria practically glowed as she answered question after question. Meg thought for someone who didn’t know how to cook, Mrs. Allen sure knew what she liked.

  Her sisters had been on their best behavior, and Meg had nodded to Sam right after the empty dishes of flan, Maria’s famous custard, had been cleared.

  “It’s almost sunset,” Meg said, hoping that Sam would take the cue and they could leave.

  “Oh, right. Let me go get the buggy ready for you,” Hank said. “Come with me, Sam?”

  “What? Yes, sure,” Sam said as he followed Hank out the door.

  Clara took Mrs. Allen’s hand as they all stood and walked toward the porch. “It’s been a delightful evening, Mrs. Allen. Thank you for encouraging Sam to play for us. It was marvelous, and I hope that we can do it again and hear more.”

  “Meg could tell you more about that than I could. Sam doesn’t seem to want to play anymore, and it was clear that he’s never even heard her sing. Such a shame that they don’t share that part of themselves together,” Mrs. Allen said, her eyebrow arching at Mr. Archer.

  Her father coughed into his hand. “Yes, that would be lovely. And thank you so much for coming,” he said as he gently steered everyone outside and glanced back at Meg.

  Meg thought this couldn’t have been a more odd evening. Why didn’t she think that this might happen? She’d sung with her sister almost every night for years, and somehow, Sam had never heard them and somehow, they had to do it tonight.

  Meg hugged each of her family members, giving Clara an extra squeeze of thanks for keeping the conversation off the topic of Meg and Sam for the majority of the evening. “Thank you,” she whispered in Clara’s ear.

  “You’re welcome, and good luck.” Clara squeezed a bit harder in return.

  Not much was said on the way home, Meg remembering the song and the peaceful evening with her family. Her heart swelled as she thought of how they’d all pulled together on her behalf, and aside from the music issue, things had gone easily.

  She glanced at Mrs. Allen, who watched the sky turn from pinks and grays to purples and dark blues—one of the finer of Arizona’s many fine sunsets that Meg had had the pleasure to see.

  “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Hm?” Mrs. Allen said as she turned to Meg. “Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful sunset.”

  “Nothing quite like them, I think.” Sam pulled his hat down his forehead a little to shade his eyes as the sun made its final descent for the day.

  “You know what else is beautiful?” Mrs. Allen took one of Sam’s hands and one of Meg’s in hers from her seat between them. “Seeing so much love between you two, and so much shared passion. You are very fortunate to have met each other and had years together already.”

  Meg did everything she could not to glance at Sam, instead keeping her eyes steady on the sunset for fear she might cry. A twinge of guilt had been growing into a full-fledged knot over the past couple of days. Sam’s mother was so—nice. She was feeling as though they should be honest with her, but also honored Sam’s desire that she not be upset by the truth—about either the marriage or the mercantile, so she’d stayed silent.

  As Meg and Mrs. Allen entered the house and Sam took the buggy around, Mrs. Allen said, “I’m exhausted, Meg. You don’t mind if I head up to bed, do you?”

  “Of course not. Please, do what you like.” Meg hung their coats on the rack by the door and lit a lantern for Mrs. Allen to take with her upstairs.

  “Please tell Sam I had a lovely evening and good night for me. And Meg, you have a lovely family. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

  Meg walked slow
ly back into the parlor as Mrs. Allen climbed the stairs.

  “Why are you frowning?”

  Meg spun toward the door as Sam closed it behind him.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, you are. Don’t you think it went well tonight?”

  “Your mother didn’t say otherwise. She went up to bed as she was tired.”

  “Then why the frown?” Sam sat on the settee and Meg joined him.

  “I…I am feeling a little guilty about your mother. She’s so very nice and I like her very much. Would it be so awful to tell her the truth?”

  Sam’s leaned his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face with both hands. “I have to say it’s crossed my mind. I’m feeling guilty myself. She is a very kind woman, and in some ways, she doesn’t deserve this.”

  “What do you think she’d say if we told her?”

  He stroked his chin for a bit. “There are two parts to this. The marriage and the mercantile. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have pretended about either one.”

  “Why did you?” Meg’s heart pinched at his pain and regret.

  He stood and paced in front of the cold fireplace. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I hadn’t seen her since my father died, and I wanted her to be happy. She’d been through so much after the accident, and she’s so very proud of my brother.”

  “So you wanted both for her to be proud of you and not cause her pain?” Meg leaned back onto the settee, tapping her finger on her chin.

  “Yes, I think so. It was a hasty decision, one I’ve come to regret.” Sam stopped pacing, resting his hands on the mantle, his head falling. “Parts of it, anyway.”

  Meg’s stomach flipped. Was he referring to her? Or the mercantile?

  She decided to let it pass until he was ready. “What could be the worst thing to happen if we were to tell her?”

  “I’ve thought about that, too. I think she’d be disappointed about both of them. At this point, probably most disappointed that we’ve deceived her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She’s been nothing but kind, to both of us.”

  “If we tell her, she’ll have to know that I am a bartender at the restaurant. And that you and I aren’t really married.”

  Meg jumped to her feet. “Of course we are. It was a true, legal marriage.”

  Sam pushed back from the mantle, his sorrowful eyes turning to Meg.

  “Yes, it was legal, but nobody thought it was a good idea, least of all your father. The right thing to do would be to have it annulled as it hasn’t even been a week. I’ve asked much too much of you, Meg. It’s not fair to steal your life from you just to protect my mother.”

  Meg thought for a moment as Sam began to pace. Watching the stride of his long, lean legs as he ran his fingers through his black hair, she thought of all the time that she’d watched him, laughed at his jokes, been thrilled when he’d come to visit her brother. He knew nothing of this, and she knew it was time. It was her one last hope, before they told his mother and he sent her home.

  “Sam, I don’t think your mother is asleep yet. Would you play for me? Just one song?”

  He cocked his head at her, his eyes questioning.

  “Please?”

  He frowned, but removed the sheet from the piano. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear?”

  Meg thought for a moment, and said, “Anything you’d like, really.”

  He began to play, and when it was time, she began to sing. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers over the keys as he turned to look at her. She kept singing, and he smiled and continued.

  As they finished the song, Sam looked toward her, but his eyes were drawn over her shoulder to something behind her.

  Meg turned to see Mrs. Allen standing at the foot of the stairs in her robe, her lovely, black hair braided and over her shoulder. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt. It was just so beautiful, and I thought it might be a good time to tell you that I’ve decided to stay here in Tombstone. I can’t bear to leave you two, and if I miss you having my grandchildren, I’d never forgive myself. Your father is gone, Sam, and your brother is very busy and happily married. I’d like to start a new life here. In Tombstone. I hope we can talk about the details tomorrow, and for now I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Meg knew her mouth was open but had no control over it as she watched Mrs. Allen retreat up the stairs.

  Sam sighed. “I suppose we have no choice. If she’s staying, we have to tell her. There’s no way around it now. We must tell her first thing in the morning. And then I’ll take you home.”

  Chapter 28

  Meg didn’t sleep a wink and jumped out of bed at the first birdsong, even before the sun had risen. She’d often admired that the birds knew when to start singing, even in the dark, to herald the new day, and she was grateful that they ended her torture, allowing her to get dressed and start pacing.

  She’d spent the night thinking about what Sam had said, and about what he thought might happen. He was right. If Mrs. Allen was staying, there was no way they could expect friends and family—the entire town—to continue their pretense. Sam would have to go back to work. Suzanne and James would go back to the mercantile. There really was no option.

  She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t want to leave, that her place was here with the man she loved and his charming mother, whom she’d grown quite fond of in such a short time.

  Her only hope was to tell him the truth, tell him how she felt about him and hope for the best.

  She knew it was early, and what she had in mind was extremely untoward, but she was fairly sure Sam hadn’t slept much either. She put the final pin in her hair and took one last look in the mirror. Out loud to her reflection, she said, “It’s now or never, Nutmeg Archer,” and smiled her best, most confident—if not quite believable—smile. “Oh, I mean Nutmeg Allen.” She laughed at her mistake. Not even she knew what the truth was anymore.

  She cracked the door open, checking across the hall for any sign of life in Mrs. Archer’s room. Seeing none, she opened the door slowly and tiptoed down to Sam’s room, closing her door behind her. When she reached it, she smoothed her skirts and her hair, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Gathering all the courage she could muster, she reached for the doorknob and jumped a step back as it opened, Sam appearing as startled as she thought she must.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  She hesitated at his frown. “I wanted to talk to you before we met with your mother, if that’s possible.”

  He held his finger to his lips and peered down the hall, stepping out of his room and closing the door. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her behind him down the stairs and into the kitchen.”

  “Sam, I—“

  “Shhh,” he said again and opened the door to the garden, pulling her out to the small table and chairs surrounded by flowers of all kinds—and the one rosemary bush.

  “I don’t think she’ll hear us out back, but she’ll likely be up soon. I haven’t slept at all, I don’t think. I’m so sorry to put you through this, Meg.”

  Meg’s eyes softened, and she knew it was time. “Sam, please don’t be sorry. You haven’t put me through anything that I didn’t want to be put through.”

  He frowned again as he leaned back into his chair. “What do you mean?”

  She had been so certain that if she told him, he would be overjoyed, but her nerves jangled at his frown. She tugged at the sleeve of her dress, and looked up as his blue eyes never left her face.

  “I realize you don’t know this, and it will come as a surprise, but for a long time before you needed a bride, I was hoping that you might choose to court me.”

  “Court you?” he said, his hands on his knees.

  She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice as she looked over toward the sunrise. “Well, I can see you’re surprised. I know you didn’t even notice me.”

  Sam frowned and re
ached for Meg’s hand. “Meg, I—”

  “Oh, excuse me,” Mrs. Allen said from the doorway.

  A pang of guilt passed through Meg as she turned to see Mrs. Allen, her genuine smile radiating warmth—and trust.

  Sam turned from his mother back to Meg, squeezing her hand. His back to his mother, he mouthed, “Are you ready.” She calmed a bit at his reassuring smile and nodded.

  “Would you sit down for a moment, Mother? Meg and I have something we’d like to talk with you about.”

  “Oh, dear, that sounds ominous. You’re not unhappy that I’d like to stay, are you?” She sat slowly as Meg and Sam did the same.

  “We’re very happy that you’ve decided to stay. It will be a true pleasure to have you in Tombstone.” Meg wasn’t quite sure where she stood with Sam, if he still wanted to send her home, so she decided it would be best for him to tell the story, and she settled back in her chair.

  Meg wrung her hands as Sam told the story, all of it, about how he’d sent for a mail order bride and Meg had agreed. She watched Mrs. Allen intently, her confusion growing as Sam’s mother’s expression changed from surprised to amused, a smile growing on her face almost from the beginning.

  “So you’re telling me that you’ve been married for less than a week, and that you agreed to marry because I thought you had been for some time?”

  “Yes,” Sam said as he glanced at Meg.

  “And that you don’t own the mercantile, but are a bartender at the Occidental instead?”

  Sam dropped his head into his hands. Meg’s eyebrows shot up as Mrs. Allen stifled a laugh and winked at Meg.

  “Well, thank goodness we all don’t need to pretend anymore. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this charade up.”

  Sam lifted his head slowly, his mouth agape. “You mean—”

  “Good grief, Sam, it’s plain as the nose on your face that the two of you barely know each other.”

  “You knew?”

  “Not at first, but it didn’t take long. It was clear that you two didn’t know some critical things about each other. At least, not to my mind.