Chapter 23
Michael felt the blood drain from his face as he took the letter from Ben. He stared at it for a moment and then looked up at Rose—whose face was as white as he imagined his own was.
He shoved it into his coat pocket and signaled to Maddy for the bill.
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to open it?” Ben asked as he took the last bite of pie.
“No, not now. I have to...go do something.” He stood and handed Maddy some bills and walked around the table, pulling Rose’s chair back for her.
“Oh, come on, now. That’s no fun. I been waiting for that letter for a long time.” Ben stood, his smile suddenly dimming. “Um, I mean I know you been waiting for that letter for weeks.”
Rose moved toward the door, lifting her skirts as color crept back into her face. “Yes, Ben has absolutely no interest in mail order brides. Do you, Ben?”
Ben coughed into his hand. “Well, good luck, Mr. Tate. We’ll be seeing you later.”
He opened the door for Rose and followed her out, closing the door behind him as he gave Michael a tip of his hat.
Michael blinked hard as he watched Rose lift her skirts and climb into the buggy. He watched until they turned the corner, and not once did she turn to look back.
“Here’s your change, Mr. Tate.” Maddy held out some coins to Michael. “Mr. Tate? Are you all right?”
He shook his head and turned to Maddy. “I’m not sure, Maddy. Oh, that’s for you.” He reached for his bowler hat and ran a hand through his hair, then pulled it on.
“Thank you,” she said as he pulled the door open and stepped out onto the boardwalk, expelling a deep breath. He walked slowly to the boarding house, hands in his pockets, his fingers avoiding the letter that would seal his fate. What had he done? He’d had no idea that there may have been someone in Tombstone that would capture his heart, but there was. And now he couldn’t have her.
He reached the boarding house and sat down on the bench out front. The letter wasn’t going to evaporate, so he reached into his pocket and took it out, staring for several moments at the swirly handwriting and the return address—Margery Tanner from St. Louis, Missouri.
He turned it over slowly, tearing it open. He may as well see what was in store. He spread the paper out flat on this thigh. Taking a deep breath, he held it up, blinked twice and began to read.
Dear Michael,
Thank you for your pleasant reply in favor of our union. I am happy to accept your offer of marriage and look forward to building a new life with you in Tombstone.
I will be arriving on the coach on the Sunday following the date of this post. The journey by train is not too long, and the last part by stagecoach hopefully will be mercifully brief. I am told that it is hot, dusty and slow, but I am determined to be your bride.
Looking forward to a long future together,
Margery
He dropped the letter onto his lap and his head into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.
“Are you all right, Mr. Tate?”
Michael looked up into the kind eyes of the proprietress of the boarding house, Mrs. Blake.
He folded the letter and placed it back in his pocket. He stood and tipped his hat.
“I’m not sure, Mrs. Blake, but thank you for your kind concern.” He turned and opened the door for her, following her into the lobby of the boardinghouse.
She looked up at him, her expression puzzled. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Tate?”
Michael took off his hat and twisted it in his hands. He looked up at Mrs. Blake and said, “Yes, I think there is something you can do for me, if it’s possible?”
“Of course, Mr. Tate. Anything at all.” She set down her reticule and sat behind her desk in the study off the main foyer.
He paused for a moment and glanced out the white lace curtains, not certain at all if he was all right. His hand automatically reached into his vest pocket and he fingered the slick, old pocket watch his mother had given him. He remembered her words to him.
Keep this with you and know we love you. You will know the right woman to give it to—the one who cherishes your heart.
He remembered her words to him, and he knew that this was not what she had meant at all.
The image of Mrs. Samson and the school board popped into his head, and he sighed, resigned to his fate.
“I’ll need to procure another room, Mrs. Blake, for an indeterminate amount of time. Starting day after tomorrow.”
Mrs. Blake looked up from her ledger, her eyebrows raised. “Oh? Are you having company?”
“Not company, exactly. My future wife.”
Chapter 24
“What is wrong with you? You haven’t said anything for two days,” Saffron said as Rose wandered into the kitchen. “I haven’t seen you like this in a very long time. Didn’t things go well this week at school? You were so excited.”
Rose plopped into the chair across from Saffron. She absently picked up a piece of dough and began to pat it between her hands, the rhythmic motion soothing her a little.
“Was it not good at school?” Saffron repeated as she laid the rolling pin aside and picked up a ball of dough.
Rose blinked several times and tried to remember what Saffron had just said. She’d not been able to concentrate very well since Friday afternoon when Michael had received his letter from his new bride. Somehow during their very pleasant conversation, she’d allowed herself to forget—just for a moment—that he was promised to another. When the letter came, she felt like she’d been kicked by one of the horses, and she hadn’t quite felt normal since.
“I’m sorry, Saffron. What did you say?”
Her sister sighed, brushing back a lock of her hair and leaving a streak of flour. Rose smiled—Saffron almost always had flour on her somewhere. She loved to bake, and had been the first one to offer to help Maria in the kitchen when their mother died.
“I said did you have a good week at school?”
Rose set down the piece of dough that was not in a flat, round circle and picked up another. “School went very, very well. It was thrilling to see all the students, help with their studies. Suzanne was there with Lucy and Lily most of the time, and Mr. Tate, the headmaster, he’s...”
Saffron looked up from the dough, her fingers no longer kneading it. “Mr. Tate, he’s...what?”
“Well, he’s fascinating. He’s Italian, from Boston, and he yearns to travel. He’s very well-read, very good with the children and—”
“And very handsome,” Saffron cut in, laughing as she started to knead the dough again.
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” Rose said as she slapped the dough onto the cutting board and began to pat it rather roughly.
“Ah, I see. Go on.”
Rose stared at her small piece of dough. “He also cares very much about the children. And he asked me to join him for dinner.” Her hand rose to her mouth as she caught herself. That was not something she’d intended to tell anyone, but Saffron always had a way of making her comfortable to share her feelings. It was a quality their mother had had, and Saffron had inherited the best of it.
Saffron’s hands stilled as she looked up at her sister. “And? Are you going? I’ll go with you to speak to Papa.”
Rose sighed, pounding the dough with one loud slap. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said, turning the dough over and pounding her fist on the other side. “He had to send for a mail order bride weeks ago and she’ll be arriving soon. He’s promised to her.”
Saffron wiped her hands on her apron and sat down. She reached for her sister’s hand, stopping her from pounding the dough even harder.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I can see that you care for this man.”
Rose pulled her hand back, looking away from her sister’s deep eyes. “I don’t know that I do, Saffron. But I am enjoying being in the classroom.”
“Rose, honestly.” Saffron sat back in her chair and leveled her gaze at her sister. “It’s
clear that you have feelings for him. Clear to me, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter, Saffron. It’s too late, even if I did have feelings for him.” Rose tried to bite her lip to keep it from trembling, but she failed. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked away from her sister.
Saffron lifted her skirt and crossed over to Rose, wrapping her arms around her and resting her head on Rose’s copper curls. “Dear sister. I’m so very sorry. Love lost before it is even found is tragic. Are you positive that this union will be made? When is this woman arriving?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said as she squeezed Saffron’s hand and wiped her eyes. “The last I knew, he’d just received a letter. I expect it will be within the next few days.”
Saffron crossed to the sink and pumped a glass of water, handing it to her sister. “I suppose the best thing to do is to take your mind off of it. Moping around like this isn’t going to help anything. Rose, you’re old enough to be married. I say we talk to Papa about you receiving suitors. That should take your mind off of Mr. Tate.”
Rose shook her head slowly. “I don’t think I’m ready for suitors. I don’t even know how or why I have become fond of Mr. Tate. This is all new to me. I think I should just focus on learning everything I can at the school, and if I’m lucky, maybe I can get a position in another town at their schoolhouse.”
Saffron frowned. “Rose, don’t be silly. You can’t leave. Your family is here. All your friends are here.”
“I know, but right now, all I want to do is be far away. Very far away.”
“What’s all this?” their father said as he entered the kitchen, looking around and into the pantry. “And where is Maria?”
Saffron looked at Rose and nodded encouragement as she looked from their father to Rose. “Tell him, Rose.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at Saffron. She turned to her father and said, “Nothing, Papa. I was just helping Saffron with the dough.”
Beau Archer turned in a circle and opened the back door, looked outside and then came back in. “That’s nice, but where is Maria?”
Saffron sighed as she covered the bowl of dough with a towel and set it on the counter close to the warm stove to rise. “Papa, we had this conversation last night.”
“What conversation?” he said, looking from Rose to Saffron as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Maria is gone today. It’s Sunday, and she mentioned she was going to visit her mother down in Nogales. Her brother picked her up this morning, and she won’t be back until tomorrow morning.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh, that’s right. I remember now. Well, what’s for supper?”
Saffron laughed. “I don’t know. What is for supper? I could check to see if there are some leftovers, but I hadn’t planned anything. I’m sorry, Papa. I should have.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and opened the ice box. He closed it and opened the door to the pie safe. “Hmm. I’m hungry. I heard that my favorite chef in Tombstone is having something new on the menu this evening. I ran into Sadie yesterday and she wouldn’t tell me what it was, but said we should stop by. I’d be happy to take anyone who wants to come to the Occidental for dinner.”
Saffron clapped her hands, a cloud of flour rising that she tried to wave away. “I’d love to come, but I’d need to get cleaned up first. Pepper won’t want to come, and neither will Sage. They’re waiting for one of the cows to calve. I’ll find Tara and see if she’d like to.” She turned to Rose, eyebrows raised. “And you?”
Rose sighed, her chin resting in her hand as she leaned forward on the table. She thought of Michael’s invitation that she’d refused—and this was the night. An Italian dish on the menu, just for Michael.
She straightened and tugged at her sleeves. She couldn’t stop living just because Michael’s new bride would be arriving soon. And she was curious what Tripp had prepared. She threw her shoulders back and stood.
“I’d love to come along. Thank you, Papa.”
“Good. And Saffron, when you’re looking for Sage, invite Ben would you? I’d like to thank him for running Rose back and forth all week.”
Chapter 25
The sun hadn’t quite set when the Archer girls and their father—and Ben—set out for town, all anticipating what Tripp might have prepared and happy to have the option since Maria had left them on their own. Any one of them could have prepared something, but this felt like a special treat. Rose’s spirits lifted a bit on the ride, the sway of the buggy soothing her somehow.
She did her best not to think about Michael, and purposefully watched the hawks circling overhead to forget about her sorrows.
Ben pulled up in front of the Occidental and hopped down, tying the reins to the hitching post and walking around to help the ladies down. Mr. Archer was already on the wooden boardwalk, peering in the window of his favorite restaurant.
“Looks like a pretty good crowd tonight,” he said as he turned back to the buggy, waiting while Ben helped Rose, Saffron and Tara down from the buggy. He held the door open while the party walked in. Rose lingered in the back, hesitating for a moment.
Her father held the door, his eyebrows raised as he gestured for her to follow her sisters inside. Rose tugged at the sleeves of her dress and smoothed her skirts.
“Rose? Is something wrong?” Mr. Archer let the door shut and stepped over to his daughter. “You earlier said it was nothing. Is that true? Is there something I can help you with?”
Rose flushed and looked down at the floor. She cleared her throat and looked up at her father. “No, Papa. I’m fine.”
He cocked his head to the side as he regarded her, his brows furrowed. Rose nodded, and he smiled and held his arm out to escort her into the restaurant.
Ben and her sisters had been seated at a table by the window. Sadie, who was beginning to look more pregnant every day, ushered Rose and her father over. Rose was careful to search only for Saffron and did not move her eyes away from her destination as she walked slowly forward on her father’s arm.
Ben pulled her chair out for her, scooting it in and crossing around to the opposite side of the table. Rose’s seat faced the center of the room, and she tried her best to keep her eyes on the faces of her loved ones at the table—not allowing herself to search for Michael.
“I’m so glad you are all here,” Sadie said as she brought menus over to the table.
Mr. Archer and Ben stood and nodded at Sadie. “You look lovely, Sadie,” Mr. Archer said as he returned to his seat.
“Yes, just lovely,” Saffron said, her eyes beaming at their friend.
Sadie blushed and looked down at her growing belly. “Thank you for saying so. I’m just glad Tripp is willing to allow me to at least greet people, especially on Sundays. I love our ‘fancy’ nights.” She laughed and looked over to the chalkboard by the door that displayed the day’s special. “Tonight’s a good one, too. Tripp tried something new to satisfy a request he got from a customer. Oh, you know him. Mr. Tate, the new headmaster at the schoolhouse.”
Rose flinched at his name. Saffron shot her a sympathetic glance and reached to squeeze her hand.
Sadie craned her neck to glance around the room. Her brows furrowed, she said, “I don’t see him yet, though. I hope he remembered that tonight was Italian night.”
Tara clapped her hands. “I love Italian food and we rarely get to try it anymore. What has Tripp prepared?”
“He’s been eager to try this. When he was at chef school in New York, he’d said he had a favorite Italian restaurant and he’d convinced the woman to part with a few of her family’s few recipes.” She turned and searched the restaurant one more time. “I sure hope Mr. Tate likes them.”
“I’m sure he will, Sadie.” Mr. Archer unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, looking over to Ben who was the only remaining person at the table who hadn’t done so. “Ahem,” Mr. Archer said in Ben’s direction, and he raised his eyebrows and nodded at Ben’s napkin on h
is plate.
“What? Oh, sorry,” Ben said as he reached for his napkin, waved it in the air to unfold it and placed it on his lap with a big smile.
Rose couldn’t help but smile at her friend. He’d been very young when he’d landed at Archer Ranch, just like Tripp, and had lived in the bunkhouse for years, so she was grateful that he even remembered to take his hat off and hang it on the peg by the wall, let alone put his napkin on his lap.
“Do you all need the menus or would you just like to try the special? We have minestrone soup to start, and the main course is something I’m not that familiar with, although I shouldn’t say that to the other customers. I did try it and it was delicious. And Tripp has been stirring this sauce all day.”
“Well?” Mr. Archer said as he glanced around the table. “We’re adventurous eaters. I will have the special, Sadie, and I venture to guess that they all will, too.”
Rose nodded, along with everyone else at the table. As Sadie turned to take their order into the kitchen, Rose, whose back was to the window, couldn’t stop herself from scanning the room. She let out a sigh at the end of her quest, not having seen him in the room. That was good. She could hope, possibly, that he would come in later, after she and her family had left.
She turned her attention back to the conversation at her table, and had just caught her sister’s eye when Saffron, who was watching passersby out the window, blanched and held her hand to her mouth. “What is it, Saffron?”
Rose turned quickly, but saw nothing but a group of couples strolling along the boardwalk. She looked back at Saffron, whose eyes were now on the door of the restaurant, her cheeks now pink.
Turning to look out the window once more, Rose shook her head, puzzled at what had Saffron in this state.
“Well, good evening, Mr. Tate,” her father said.
Rose closed her eyes and held her hand to her stomach as it flipped and her ears burned. She slowly turned around and stood with the rest of her family as they smiled and nodded while introductions were made.
The Teacher's Mail Order Bride Page 11