by Annie Lane
Charlotte’s head drooped and fell into her hands, and Beth only just managed to catch her wrist before she slid down the wall to hit the floor with a thud. “Oh Charlotte, whatever was all that about? I overheard every single word, but I really don’t know what to make of it? You … and Mr. Graynger?”
“No, please don’t speak of us like that.”
“He seems mighty convinced you have feelings for him.” Elizabeth blushed just saying the words out loud. “Is it true, Charlotte? Do you wish to marry Mr. Graynger?”
Charlotte studied her friend for a hint that she might be playing some kind of cruel joke, but when Beth didn’t make another sound, Charlotte’s temper rose in a way that was uncharacteristic to her nature. “That man makes my skin itch all over, and I’ll thank you to refrain from ever insinuating otherwise. I will not marry that ghastly man. I simply won’t!”
“Oh, Charlotte … I’m so terribly sorry. I don’t know what got into me. What can we do to get you out of this mess?”
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears and a heaviness settled in her bones, one she knew wouldn’t disappear any time soon. It was hopeless. Short of some act of divine intervention, by the end of the month she would be walking down the aisle toward Mr. Graynger, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Absolutely nothing at all.
Beth suddenly stood at attention like she knew exactly what Charlotte was thinking. She wanted to stop that train of thought before it pulled out too far from the station. “This isn’t over yet, my dear friend. Leave it to me. I’ll come up with something.”
Both girls glanced down the hallway, their attention drawn to the sound of keys jingling on a metal ring. Beth knew the conversation was about to be cut short so she spoke quickly. “There’s no way on this earth that you’ll end up married to a stinking, old, good-for-nothin’ like Mr. Graynger, not if I’ve got anything to do with it!”
Mistress Belle turned the corner then, and caught the two girls, seemingly in the middle of a natter session instead of making a start on their errands. On any other day she would have reprimanded them for their tardiness, but Mr. Graynger’s early return had rattled her just as much as it had everyone else. She wasn’t the sort of woman who liked to be made a fool of, and she’d been caught off-guard with the sudden arrival of the babies. She wasn’t as prepared as she’d have liked to have been and it didn’t sit well with her.
She took both girls by the elbows and spun them around until they were facing the front doors. “In my estimation, you two have approximately one hour left to walk the six blocks into town, collect our supplies from the mercantile and make it back in time to help with the dumplings. Class’ll be out at twelve sharp and I’ll have hungry mouths to feed. Not to mention bottles to make and diapers to change. Hurry along now girls before…”
She paused and looked down the corridor with a scowl on her normally sweet face. “Well, you know what I mean, just hurry along before trouble finds each and every one of us.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Charlotte and Beth said in unison. And they all knew just what she meant.
Chapter 4
“Mabel! For the very last time! There ain’t nothing of interest to you here, and even if there were, it would be far more prudent of you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
Mabel Clay took exception to the way Louise reprimanded her, especially in front of the procession of townsfolk – either waiting to collect up their mail or order their fancy English muffins and coffee.
Instead of a retort, Mabel bit her tongue and scurried back to her place in line, her head full of unsaid responses the entire time. If Louise wasn’t married to Sheriff Calhoun – Henry to his nearest and dearest – then Mabel might have just given her a right piece of her mind. With all eyes now angled in her direction, however, she simply bit down once again and swallowed back the bitter taste that had built up in her throat.
The fire of ’84 had claimed the town’s original post office. The shingles were soon set to burning up like kindling in the midday sun, and the flames licked high into what had been a clear blue Montana sky.
At first, no one quite knew how to get on with things, each turning to the other and scratching their heads. But Louise soon saw fit to righting things again by offering a small section of her counter at the town’s only diner, The Coffee Grande, as a temporary solution to the problem. And Conrad’s townsfolk had gone about their business like there wasn’t a mountain of ash still smoldering right there across the street.
Temporary or not, Mabel didn’t like it one little bit. She was the sort of woman who could sniff out gossip from a mile away, and it served her little to have so many prying eyes watching her every move. After all, she couldn’t exactly enquire about the Preacher’s ever-rising liquor consumption, or the late night house calls of certain young men over at the saloon – well, not without coming across as a right nosy gossipmonger, at least.
But Mabel was no fool.
She was more certain now – as she watched Louise lower her eyes again – than anything else she’d ever been certain of before. Something exciting was brewing. Something the likes of which Conrad had never before seen.
The way she figured, it had everything to do with the handsome, young recluse standing right up there at the counter and absolutely nothing to do with her at all. And if there was scandal to be had, then that’s exactly the way Mabel enjoyed it. What she didn’t enjoy … was that she only had a half hour lunch break each day. It was barely enough time to gather the mail, scoff down a scone or two and find a willing ear in which to tattle.
It galled her that she had to manage it all before she had to be back behind the reception desk at Doc Lawson’s rooms.
Meanwhile, Louise turned her attention back to Thomas, fed up to the back teeth with the blithering busybody, and asked her question as innocently as she could, without making it obvious that Earl Mason had already been into town that morning checking on the very same thing. “Were you expecting something important, Thomas? A letter perhaps?”
She’d known Thomas long enough to realize that he knew when she was teasing him. In fact, he respected her opinion so much that he’d run the letter by her first, right before he’d sealed the envelope and handed it over. Louise knew that a female perspective wasn’t something Thomas had in abundance. In fact, she couldn’t even recall him ever mentioning a woman. Well, excluding Rosy of course, but she figured that didn’t exactly count.
Before Thomas’s parents had passed away, the Ackermans and the Calhouns had been firm friends for many years. Louise and her husband Henry had taken the couple’s death hard, just as everyone else in the town had, but Thomas was their son Gabriel’s best friend from childhood. In fact, they had been playmates from before the time they could even walk, so it was a little tougher on the Calhouns than others in town.
“Say hello to Gabe for me next time he comes home for supper,” said Thomas, tucking his shirt tighter into his britches. “He’s a hard man to catch these days. I haven’t seen him around in a while.”
He glanced back at Mabel as quick as he could, clearly making sure her neck wasn’t stretched as high as it was a moment ago and then quietened his voice before adding, “And thank you for your very thoughtful offer. I might just take you up on it.”
“My pleasure, Thomas,” said Louise, bringing an extra dose of kindness to her voice.
She watched him offer the smallest of grins in return and then tip his hat, before his broad shoulders disappeared through the door and out into the sunshine. A warm sense of pride filled her chest. If only his mother could bear witness to the fine young man he’d grown into. She would be beside herself with happiness.
Chapter 5
The footpath was crowded, thick with the usual rush that came with city living. Thankfully, Charlotte and Beth had arrived at the post office right before the line got too long and they’d have had to wait.
Old Bert Hamilton glanced up from the pile of packages he had
spread out on the counter before him. He looked tired, exhausted even. Every line on his face was there for a reason. But he was never short of a smile when the girls called by to collect the daily mail. They were like a breath of fresh air as far as Bert was concerned. ‘Spunk,’ his Mama had called it. That indescribable quality generally reserved for the young and free of spirit.
“Well, howdy there, ladies,” said Bert. He pushed his hand back through his thinning hair and tried to disguise just how bad his legs were paining. “I’m swamped as all git out sortin’ through this mess. I’m movin’ as fast as I possibly can, but you’ll have to bear with me just a while longer.”
“You’re overworked, Bert,” Charlotte smiled politely. “Maybe you should think of hiring someone to give you a hand? Goodness knows you could use it.”
Bert laughed a couple of times, shaking his head. “It’s like you’re a mind reader, Miss Charlotte. Why, just this very morning I received a letter from my niece, Alice Hamilton. She’s been working as a teacher’s assistant down there in Texas, but she reckons she’s bored of it and wants the adventure of city living. She’s on her way to Seattle as we speak so I believe, coming to help her old Uncle Bert out for a while.”
“Well, that’s wonderful news. I’m sure she’ll fit right in. Beth and I look forward to making her acquaintance, don’t we Beth?”
Charlotte’s eyes darted toward her friend when she didn’t get a reply. Beth was fiddling with the waistband of her skirt, her mind altogether somewhere else, and Charlotte doubted she’d even heard Bert speak in the first place. Her expression was troubled, and it didn’t take Charlotte long to figure out exactly where her thoughts were at. But she wasn’t about to broach the subject in public.
Charlotte pretended not to notice and glanced back toward the counter. The basket allotted to Mr. Fredrick was growing more sizable by the minute and Bert blew out a huge puff of air that made his cheeks billow. “It seems the milliner’s missus has gone and set herself up a little business,” he grumbled. “It’s runnin’ me into the ground. Never before have I seen so much correspondence from one measly advertisement.”
Beth’s hands finally stilled, her curiosity getting the better of her. “May I be so bold as to ask what sort of business?”
“Mail order brides, if I’m not mistaken,” Bert informed her, but he soon set to chuckling when he looked across from one girl to the other and noticed just how wide their eyes had suddenly grown. “Don’t s’pose you gals are interested?”
Beth leaned across the counter and snatched the basket of mail right out from under Bert’s nose, and with that he stopped laughing just as quickly as he’d started. “Excuse me, Sir, but are you insinuating neither of us are attractive enough to find suitors for ourselves?”
“Why, no Miss … uh, I’d never be so impolite, quite the contrary.” Bert now had a thin sheen of sweat break out across his top lip as he spluttered to cover his gaffe. He was rethinking his opinion of the girls with every dagger Beth shot his way. “A man would be a dang fool not to ask you for your hand in marriage. I was simply considering the fact that neither of you would ever be so desperate. What must one be thinking and all, marrying a complete stranger? I’d say it’s a crazy act for anyone, let alone the like of you fine ladies.”
Charlotte and Beth froze. Desperate? Why of course. Why hadn’t either of them thought of it sooner? That’s exactly what Charlotte needed to get out of the proposed marriage to Mr. Graynger. A different husband would surely do the trick. It seemed fate had stepped in right when they’d needed it to, and in that instant both girls knew what had to be done.
“Desperate, you say?” said Charlotte, more to herself than to anyone else.
“Oh no, I uh … wasn’t implying you were…”
“Your insults are the least of our worries right now, Bert.” Beth watched as his face lit up as bright as a camp fire. “Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. Come now Charlotte, we have places to go and people to see.”
Beth purposefully stuck her nose in the air as she spun on her heels and walked right back out the door they’d just come through. Mrs. Fredrick’s mail was still tucked up tightly under her arm. Charlotte grabbed the pile to the left of the counter marked ORPHANAGE and followed closely behind her, informing Bert that apparently they would be making a stop by the Fredrick’s place on the way back.
As it was, Bert who was glad for their leaving his post office without causing too much of a scene, simply waved them off and then returned to his business.
Chapter 6
“Goodness me!”
Mrs. Fredrick shrieked, taken aback by the sudden pounding at her front door. She stepped outside onto the porch, wearing on her head one of the most fanciful bonnets a bright Tuesday morning had ever been so privileged to see.
She was met with two breathless, panting bodies, hunched over at the waist. Both girls gasped for air. They had raced to the end of the street, rounded the corner and then hurried across the busy road without giving the mercantile a second thought. In fact, Beth had barged through the front gate with such force that it near broke straight off its hinges, before it swung back again and hit Charlotte square in the shins.
“We’re sorry Mrs. Frederick, it’s just that…” began Charlotte, rubbing her leg.
But Beth soon grew impatient and – once she’d caught her breath again – proceeded to explain in explicit detail everything about the sad predicament Charlotte had found herself in. She was in such a hurry to get everything out all at once that she threw her arms up in the air for dramatic effect and the letters slipped from her hands and ended up spread out across the wide, wooden veranda they were all standing on.
Mrs. Fredrick quickly collected up the mess and escorted the girls into the sitting room at the front of the house, realizing that something terrible could happen if she didn’t get to the bottom of it immediately. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and then returned with three glasses of grape cider. She took a quick sip while she gathered her thoughts. If it was the way she believed it to be, then time was running out and they would have to move quickly. “Why Charlotte, Mr. Graynger must be twice your age?”
“No Ma’am, closer to three times if I’m not mistaken.”
Her face filled with nothing but sympathy and she shook her head. “I never did trust that shifty old fool, he’s as crooked as a ram’s horn if you ask my opinion.”
“Can you help us, Mrs. Fredrick?” Charlotte’s voice was caught in the back of her throat and it came out a little shaky, even to her own ears. “I can’t marry Mr. Graynger. Please find a way to help me.”
“Let’s make a start on these letters immediately and try to find you a good and decent husband. As long as my feet are planted on this earth there’s no chance a pretty little thing like you will end up with the horror that is Clem Graynger. I’ve heard all sorts of nasty things about the man and I wouldn’t put it past him to be in cahoots with the devil himself. It might be unorthodox, pursuing a marriage by correspondence and all, but it’s nothing to be sneered at. The sooner you leave Seattle, the better. That way he won’t have a claim on you. Your birthday is just a few weeks away, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mrs. Fredrick rifled through the letters then, dividing them up into even piles for each of the girls to read through. She rubbed her hands together as they set about tearing open the envelopes. Never had she expected such an enthusiastic response to her classified. The few extra dollars she’d earn for her time and effort in connecting grooms with their prospective brides was sure to buy her that set of expensive new curtains she’d had her eye on. She could just picture them now, fluttering softly in the warm breeze above her kitchen sink and she couldn’t be happier. And when Mrs. Fredrick was happy, so was everybody else.
Charlotte could feel she was one step closer to freedom with every letter she read and although the thought of marrying a man she knew nothing about terrified her, she was ready to risk i
t all if it meant escaping Saint Anne’s.
She was afraid though.
It was a risky move by anyone’s standards. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a handful of her father’s wise words right now. Charlotte smiled softly to herself then as she rifled through the mail. She knew what he’d say. She could practically hear his deep voice whispering in her ears.
Don’t be afraid to go out on a limb, that’s where the fruit is.
After a good thirty minutes, Charlotte and Beth had finally narrowed it down to three prospective grooms. The first, Beth’s favorite, was a logger from Salem, Oregon. Peter Jolsen needed a wife to run his home while he was away for long stretches at a time transporting lumber from the forest to the timber mills.
But there were some negatives. His penmanship was wishy-washy and he waffled on with useless information about the strength of his horses and a long-winded tale of a disastrous rabbit casserole.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Beth?”
Beth shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll see to that pesky gate while you continue your appraisal?”
Charlotte sighed. Beth was clearly not as picky as Charlotte. She smiled as her best friend left her to her ruminations.
The second prospect’s letter was from William Carter, a gold-miner from some place far up in the hills that Charlotte had never heard of before. But he wrote with so much passion for his profession that Charlotte feared there would be no place left in his heart for her. On paper he seemed perfectly nice and would undoubtedly make someone a fine husband one day. But it wasn’t going to be Charlotte.
The third gentleman went by the name of Thomas Ackerman.