“She’s right,” Sheriff Dowd said. “That’s why we have laws.”
“I’m not saying let him get away with it. He needs a talking-to, but I think a one-time warning is enough in this case. And I still don’t agree one incident is enough to charge him with stealing the money.”
Sheriff Dowd sniffed his disapproval. “All right. I’ll give him a talking-to this time, but if he gets in trouble again, he’s going to face the consequences.”
Prudie watched the sheriff disappear through the restaurant’s exit, then leveled a stare at Erich. “Your kindness does you credit, Erich. Perhaps you stayed on the mountain so long you forget some people can abuse your kindness.”
Erich rubbed his jaw where the scar was. “You may be right. It’s something else I have to work on, I guess.”
“Well, don’t forget, I have a lot of experience in running a store, and I’d be glad to help you, if you’ll permit me to.”
“Sure you’ll help. That’s what a wife does, right? I read that in the Good Book, so I can’t be wrong.”
Prudie smiled. “No, you’re not wrong about that. So you read the Bible a lot?”
“Not as much as I ought to. After we’re married, we’ll set aside a time to study the Bible every night. That’s what my pa and ma did before she died.” His brows furrowed over narrowed eyes. “I don’t believe my pa ever opened the Bible again after Ma died.”
Sad. Prudie wondered if Erich’s father blamed himself for his wife’s death like her father harbored guilt over her mother’s death. She wanted to learn all there was to know about Erich’s life before he went up on that mountain. But there wasn’t time tonight.
Sibbie came back to clear the table. “Well folks, how’d you like it? Want a fresh pot of coffee?”
“No, everything was fine.” Erich started to extract his money.
Sibbie stopped him. “It’s on the house tonight, sugar.” She busied herself with clearing the table. “Was that Sheriff Dowd I saw in here a minute ago?”
“It was.” Erich told her the extent of the sheriff’s visit.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to vote him out next term,” Sibbie said. “How long has he been looking for the thief who cleaned out your cash box? Now all he can come up with is a rag-tag boy?”
“Do you vote, Sibbie?” Prudie asked. “I heard Wyoming allows women the vote, but didn’t know if suffrage extended to local races.”
“Sure I vote. I’m going to run for mayor next time.”
Erich pushed his chair back. “You are? That’s the first I’ve heard of it. But you’d make a good mayor for a fact, and you know everyone.”
From what little she’d seen of Sibbie, Prudie agreed she’d make a fine mayor. “That’s wonderful. Just think, I’ll not only get to vote for the first time, but vote for a woman.”
Sibbie took on a thoughtful look. “Well, it won’t be easy, mind you. Women may have the vote here in Bent Fork, but that don’t mean there’s plenty of men—and women—who don’t like it and wouldn’t vote for a woman mayor.”
“I’ll work for your campaign,” Prudie assured her. Maybe in the future, she’d run for office herself. Coming out here was the best decision she could’ve made. Just think, she might one day hold public office. Maybe all her education wouldn’t be a waste, after all.
Getting married was a small price to pay for these opportunities. There were only two annoying worries that kept invading her castle in the air like horse flies at a church social. Erich had little business sense about running a store, and carrying out her wifely duties might interfere with her business and political ambitions.
Chapter 7
Erich tried to relax in the barber’s chair. He hadn’t had his hair cut by a barber since he was a boy. Pa kept it clipped, and after he died, Erich had done the best he could. But today was his wedding day.
He was as relaxed as a man could be who’d spent only three days courting his bride.
“I’ve been wondering when you’d come in.” Thad adjusted the cloth around Erich’s neck. “How much you want it trimmed?”
“You know how the sheriff has his?” Sheriff Dowd kept his hair at about collar length and his beard looked neat.
“Guess I do. I cut his hair every other month. That the length you want?”
After Erich nodded his assent, Thad put his comb and scissors in motion. Erich watched his chestnut hair fall until the floor around his feet was covered.
Thad held a mirror in front of Erich. “How’s that?”
Erich studied his reflection. Thad had done a good job. The mountain man was gone, replaced by a respectable shop keeper, a man any woman would be pleased to meet at the altar. But it was a lie, and he owed it to Prudie to show her the truth.
“Shave it off.”
“Shave it? Your beard?”
Erich chuckled. “I sure don’t want you to shave my head.” Although that probably wouldn’t look any worse than his shaven face.
It took a few minutes for Thad to work up a lather in the soap cup. “Sure you want this? I hate to spoil a nice beard.”
Erich wished he’d discussed this with Prudie. After all, she was the one who’d have to look at him. For certain she didn’t like the beard. He could tell, not only by what she said, but he’d caught her frowning a couple of times as she studied his face. Indecision warred within him for several seconds. No, this was the right thing to do. If she didn’t like him clean shaven—and for sure she might not, the beard would grow back soon enough.
“Go ahead with it.”
Thad spread the lather on Erich’s face. The sound of the razor hitting the strap jarred the silence. He began on Erich’s right side. Under the chin, up to the moustache. “Moustache too?”
“Yes.”
The razor felt strange as it scrapped on Erich’s sensitive skin. Thad worked on the left side. Abruptly he stopped, then leaned in for a closer look. “You know you have a scar under here?”
What a silly question. Of course Erich knew about the scar. Every moment of the cougar attack stood out in his memory in stark clarity. He hadn’t seen the scar since he’d first grown a beard, but surely it had faded some over the years. At any rate, he didn’t want Prudie thinking he’d hide anything from her.
“Just go ahead, Thad.”
Thad sharpened the razor again, reapplied soap and scrapped. He was a careful barber, not leaving a single nick.
Erich wiped the soap off, while Thad scrambled around, looking for the mirror. He held it up in front, and Erich closed his eyes momentarily before looking at his reflection. His gaze went straight to the scar.
It was worse than he remembered. Ugly streaks of red and purple glared against skin almost white in contrast to the rest of his sun-darkened face.
“Does that little lady know about the scar?” Thad gave Erich a look like he might have given a crazy man.
“No, but I got the impression my beard bothered her.” Like this scar wouldn’t.
It was crazy. Erich had told her about the scar, but she didn’t realize how bad it was. She’d know when she met him at the altar. No, that wasn’t fair. He’d go see her now, so she’d have a chance to back out, if she wanted to.
Chapter 8
When Erich arrived at the boardinghouse, he searched for Sibbie first, to see what she thought of his shaven face. She thought it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done and told him so. “When you said you were going to the barber’s, I never had the foggiest notion you had this in mind. If you had to change so much, did you have to do it right before the wedding?”
“You think Prudie will be upset? She said I shouldn’t hide the scar.”
“Upset’s not the word for it. You’ll just have to remind her—as many times as necessary—that the beard will grow back.”
He swallowed hard. Maybe he could leave town and postpone the wedding for a month. He’d have to come up with a good excuse, though, unless he lied, and he’d never been any good at lying.
; Might as well get it over with. “Will you tell her I’m here?”
Sibbie threw up her hands and stalked off. Maybe she’d tell Prudie. That way she’d be prepared. Except how could a woman be prepared for something like this?
From the way Prudie sped into the dining hall, he knew Sibbie hadn’t told her. She got to within twenty feet when she stopped stock still. He deliberately kept his head turned so only his good side faced her.
“Erich, what did you do?” Her voice was strained.
He couldn’t keep hidden for long. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smiling as she rushed the remaining distance and moved to circle him. Then he heard her sharp intake of breath as her fist went to her mouth. The smile died and startled surprise showed in her green eyes. “Why?”
Erich took her hand and led her to a table. After seating her, he hunched over. “I’m sorry to startle you, Prudie. I should have explained how bad my scar was before asking you to marry me, but actually, I intended to keep it secret until…”
“Until we were married?”
“Until I was sure you wouldn’t run off.”
The corners of her mouth tipped upward, but he could tell it was forced. “I wouldn’t have run off, Erich, but I have to admit, had I known, I would have never suggested you shave…and goodness knows, I’d rather you wouldn’t have done this before the wedding.”
He looked down at his fisted hands and deliberately turned his head away to spare her the sight. “I know, but I wanted you to see for yourself before the ceremony. I wanted to see if you’d accept me for who I am.”
Prudie raised her chin and propped it with the back of hand. “Oh, I see. You know what I think, Erich?” She reached out and touched his scarred chin, forcing him to look at her. “I think you want me to run off.”
Her touch made his heart try to hammer out of his chest. “No, you’re wrong. I’d never want to run you off. You’re everything I’d would want in a wife.” But was she right? He was testing her. Love ought to be tested, otherwise how did you know it existed.
He knew he was growing to love her. Maybe he already did, but if she couldn’t love him back, he wanted to know it now. “When everybody gets a gander at you tomorrow—you’re so beautiful, they’ll wonder why you’d marry the likes of me.”
She put her soft hands in his. “We don’t care what everybody thinks, do we Erich?” Her smile curved perfectly sculptured lips.
What would it be like to kiss those lips? Erich’s mouth went so dry it took a moment to speak. “No, all I care about is what you think.”
Chapter 9
Prudie stood in the little room adjoining the church’s vestibule, waiting for Ben to escort her down the aisle. She wished she could be as open and frank as Erich was. Last night she’d done her best to reassure him.
Fortunately, she could carry a conversation without saying anything. She told him about her childhood—antidotes and adventures, anything that would skirt away from those moments that might reveal her heart.
She could have told him about the mother she couldn’t remember, but who still affected her profoundly. Made her fear having children.
That was the excuse Prudie gave her friends for choosing to remain a spinster. If she were honest, it was just an excuse. She didn’t fear dying in childbirth as her mother did, but no one could blame her if she did.
Her mother had gotten pregnant with Samuel immediately after her marriage. Prudie learned that from the servants much later. Whispers that her mother had had a hard time from the first. That she’d born another boy a year later who died shortly after birth. She’d miscarried again and again.
Then she was pregnant with Prudie, whose birth nearly killed Mother. The gossips made that common knowledge. The doctor had said Mother couldn’t have any more children. But Mother adored children and bemoaned not having more.
Three years later, she was again with child. That birth had killed her and the baby. Papa was devastated and carried his guilt for years, refusing to remarry. Prudie was too young to know the details at the time, but she did recall how morose her father was.
The thought of losing a child was more frightening than dying in childbirth, but it didn’t give her any more concern than any woman would have. Still it was reason enough to explain her avoidance of men. Now as her marriage loomed, she finally accepted it for the excuse it was. It was a façade like those second-story false fronts built above some of the town’s stores.
Maybe it was Erich’s efforts to be open with her that sent her soul-searching. She still dreaded her wedding night. Only now did the real reason she shunned men rise before her from that part of her past she’d kept hidden in a place of shame, deep within.
If only she could share her feelings with Erich, but knew she couldn’t. Why would one small incident affect her so much? How could she make Erich understand when she didn’t understand?
Prudie looked down at her dress, allowing the dreaded memory to surface. As inconsequential as that event was and how long ago, it still had the power to mock the purity of her white and ivory wedding gown.
She’d been sixteen years old, her beauty in its first bloom. The ball wasn’t given in her honor, but she’d been the belle, with more suitors than any of the other young ladies, though those men knew Papa wouldn’t give permission for them to call for two long years.
When the handsome young man suggested they go off by themselves, she’d jumped at the chance. This would be something to be whispered and giggled over later. Little did she know, she’d never utter a word to anyone.
It was a harmless thing, logic told her. Men and women found themselves in amorous situations all the time. Since the beginning of time, men would push themselves as far as they could go. She knew it was the woman’s duty to control the situation, and if she did, no harm was done.
Shock made Prudie forget her duty that night.
It wasn’t so much what the man did as who he was. He’d fondled her in places that shouldn’t be fondled, and his touch, even through layers of clothing, had burned into her soul. Her trust in men and in Christians was tarnished forever. The molester was eagerly sought after by the best families as a suitor for their daughters because he was an upstanding young businessman and recently ordained minister of the Gospel.
She’d never told her father. The shame kept her silent, along with the fear that Papa would kill him. Aside from that, a woman had to be careful about how she handled such things. She would invariably be blamed for the scandal.
Now that she looked back from a mature prospective, the incident hardly seemed worthy of clouding her perception, but it did. Even though she was a Christian herself, she distrusted other Christians, even women. She was always questioning people’s motives, suspecting hypocrisy. Even sweet Carianne, who was as true a Christian as anyone could be.
Prudie blamed herself for her feelings, but she didn’t know what to do about them. Nor did she know what to do about Erich. She simply wasn’t ready for him to touch her, though he’d have a right to.
She decided to explain her dilemma and ask for patience. He’d be understanding, but now he’d think she was repulsed by his scar. How ridiculous. His scar was nothing compared to the scar hidden in her soul.
The door opened, startling her. “You ready, Miss Prudie?” Ben’s smile reached to his eyes. The piano sounded from the church.
She took his arm. “Yes, quite ready.”
Ohs and ahs greeted her, and Prudie’s glance traveled around the room. She hadn’t met many of the town’s inhabitants, and their reaction surprised her. Of course her dress was stunning. It wasn’t a wedding gown, but these country folks probably had never seen a woman dressed as glamorously. Ramee had designed the dress for Prudie to wear to one of Carianne’s balls. Made of finest silk in an oyster shade, it was heavily trimmed with gossamer white lace. The understated bustle fell into a sweeping train.
Erich waited for her at the altar. He too was dressed to the nines in a black suit and whi
te shirt. Instead of a tie, he wore a cravat, tied all the way to his chin. It covered most of the ugly scar, and it occurred to her, he’d worn it for her sake.
The scar notwithstanding, Erich was a fine figure of a man.
Ben placed her hand in Erich’s. How quaint they’d kept to the traditions, though that’s all they were. Ben had no right to give her away, though that tradition had meant something in the not too distant past. Fathers did literally choose his daughter’s husband and give her away.
Thankfully, most women today, even in upper society, weren’t forced to marry someone they didn’t want to. The majority now married for love. But in the wedding ceremony, the traditions would continue until the end times because Jesus said they would.
Prudie had done her own choosing—not for love but expediency, from a magazine ad. But if she’d searched the whole world, she couldn’t have found a better man, even if love didn’t enter into her decisions.
Sibbie stood up with Prudie and Ben went to Erich’s side. Prudie grasped his hand like it was a lifeline.
The preacher was an elderly man, his bushy silver hair gleaming in a shaft of sunlight streaming from the side windows. His plump wife played the piano. She must be at least twenty years younger than her husband. Prudie couldn’t remember her name, but the woman was a friendly sort.
The piano fell silent, and the preacher went into his oration, defining the duties of the husband and wife, serious and intimate duties. Prudie questioned her sanity for marrying a man she barely knew.
Before she realized what was happening, she and Erich were repeating their vows. Somewhere in there, she promised to love this man, and she would—in time. She’d have no trouble in honoring him. He was an honorable man. She doubted she’d ever be called on to obey, since Erich didn’t seem the type to order anyone around, least of all, his wife.
The brief ceremony ended, and Erich just brushed her waiting lips with his. Afterward, they stood to receive the congregation’s congratulations. Introductions, smiling faces, firm handshakes, wishes for a long and happy marriage, hints of future friendships. These people were so different from the high society people she’d left back east. Surely God had brought her here to this town.
The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Page 26