by Kit Morgan
Adaline started to knit. “He’ll be handsome, with a big heart, and love animals and children, huh?”
Aunt Priscilla smiled. “Even if he is a foot shorter, wears spectacles, and quiet as a mouse, as long as his heart is in the right place, dear, you can’t go wrong. Besides, he hasn’t seen a photograph of you either.”
Adaline swallowed hard. “No, you’re right. I can’t imagine what he thinks I’m like. Maybe he’s picturing a wicked witch with warts and a broom.”
“I doubt that, Ada. I’m sure he’s dreaming of his lady-fair and can’t wait until the day you arrive.”
Adaline smiled. “Yes, auntie. I’m sure he is.”
* * *
Oregon City, March 1, 1871
Lorcan Brody barely had time to duck before his opponent’s fist found his face. It grazed his right cheek and would no doubt add to his growing list of injuries for the night. But the pot was good, and he’d be bringing home a decent amount this week once he was paid.
He judged the distance between himself and the stout Irishman that danced around him. His vision blurred and he shook his head to clear it before he struck, delivering a quick right hook, knocking the shorter man to the ground.
A cheer went up from the spectators as the count began. “That’s showing him, Brody!” someone cried from the crowd.
“Next week I’ll be sure to bring more men for ye to fight!” another called.
Lorcan smiled and gave them a curt nod. It hurt, and his vision again blurred. He’d knocked out six men that night and was still undefeated. Unfortunately, being undefeated meant he would have to fight again next week. Despite the fact the prize money was good in these local fights, the conditions weren’t. The ring was a dirt floor, his fists wrapped in rags, rather than covered by gloves, and there was no one to officiate. Once in the ring, men simply fought until one went down. It was as far from his Notre Dame boxing days as it could get, and far more brutal. But right now, his family needed the money, and so he’d do what he had to, to get it. Even if it meant knocking the sense out of the local populace.
“Lorcan, me boy!”
He turned as old man McPhee made his way to him. “A fine night o’ fighting ye brought to me place! Come to the office, and I’ll see ye get yer money!”
“Aye, I will. As soon as I get cleaned up a bit.”
“You do that. That’s quite a shiner yer going to have tomorrow!”
Lorcan gingerly touched his left eye. “You can say that again. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Men slapped him on the back as he made his way through the crowd to an alcove he used as his locker room. He hoped no one took the bucket of cold water he’d left there earlier. He would need it to get cleaned up, but sometimes it disappeared during the fights, only to turn up empty later. However, luck was with him, and his trusty bucket was exactly where he’d left it.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he mumbled to it. He chuckled at the irony of the remark, and unwrapped his hands.
“I can get you fights in Portland,” a voice said behind him.
Lorcan turned. “Don’t talk to me of Portland, Finn. My fighting days are about over.” For emphasis he again shook his head and lurched to one side.
“Whoa there, lad. You can’t be that bad off!”
“Can’t I? You saw the punches I took from that fourth fellow. He was good.”
“Not good enough! Not like my Lor!” Finn slapped him on the back.
Lorcan groaned. “Why don’t you go find yourself a real fighter?”
“You are a real fighter! The best there is!”
“I’m not a fighter, I’m a businessman.”
“You sell books! Why waste your time doing that when you can be making real money?”
“I don’t care about making money.”
Finn folded his arms across his chest. “Then what are you doing here?”
Like Lorcan, he’d been raised in Ohio for the most part, and came out west with his family to settle. He was an educated man, but also like Lorcan, eked out a living by helping his family run a small business. In Finn’s case, it was one of the local funeral parlors.
“My mother told me there were extra expenses this month. I’m only trying to help them out.”
“You could really help them if you took a fight in Portland.”
“I’ll do no such thing, get the notion out of your head.”
“Ye can’t blame a man for trying.” Finn said, his Irish brogue exaggerated as he backed out of the alcove and sauntered off. Lorcan shook his head as he watched him go, then dipped one of the rags used to wrap his hands, into the water. He wiped at his bloodied face, and braced himself for an even bigger fight when he got home. The minute his mother got a look at him, there’d be no peace for the next few days. She didn’t mind him boxing in college, but the cheap fights at McPhee’s were not to her liking, and she let him know about it in her own, not so subtle way.
But maybe his luck would hold and she’d be asleep when he got home. She’d been in an unnaturally good mood of late, and that too gave him hope he’d be spared her quick temper. Ever since she got a letter from Uncle Ian in Clear Creek a couple of months ago, she’d been exceptionally good-natured. Hmmm, what would happen if Uncle Ian and Aunt Maggie came to visit?
Lorcan smiled at the thought and continued to clean himself up.
As it was, his mother was fast asleep in her favorite chair when he got home. With her head slumped to one side and her Bible on her lap, she was the picture of pure innocence. Such would not be the case when she woke up. Lorcan pondered whether or not he should help her to bed, but decided instead to cover her with a nearby blanket, kiss her on the head, and turn down the lamp. Let the peace of the sleeping woman last a while longer. And it did, well into the next day.
* * *
Meara Brody ran a tight ship, and desertion was not an option. Neither was mutiny, and she kept her crew in line with two things, her lightning quick tongue, and a trusty apron. If she couldn’t get her way with the former, she’d whip up a few tears and wield the latter. She knew well that the one thing the Brody men couldn’t stand, was a crying woman. She’d wrung the life out of many an apron over the years, and they’d yet to catch on. Either that, or they were too stubborn to admit it worked at least half of the time, and knew she had her pride.
But today she vowed not to wring her apron or lash out with her tongue. Today she wouldn’t have to. Any sort of protest Lorcan put up, his father Patrick would handle, and she would be blameless in the eyes of her precious son when he got the news he was to be married.
She examined her hair in a small hand mirror as she hummed a merry tune, gave her greying locks one last pat, and reached for her gloves. “Mr. Brody! Hurry yourself along now. The stage will be here any minute.”
“I’m comin’ ye don’t have to yell!”
She turned and sighed when she saw him. He was a big man, brawny and strong like her son, and just as handsome. His dark hair, now streaked with grey, was thick, his blue eyes as fierce as on the day they met. He’d been fighting that day, and it wasn’t until later she found out the fight was over her. She’d ridiculed him for his actions, and he’d stilled her sharp tongue with a kiss. After almost twenty-eight years of marriage, he could still kiss her into submission. When he could catch her, that is. “You look grand, Mr. Brody.”
“As do you, Mrs. Brody. Tell me, have ye told the lad yet what’s to happen?”
She turned and put on her hat. “Oh, why upset the boy with details?”
Mr. Brody’s eyes widened with panic. “Ye mean ye didn’t tell him?” he squeaked.
She turned. “What’s to tell? He’s getting married today.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that!”
“Ian told me neither did his Sheriff’s nephews, and they all got along all right.”
Her husband shook his head. “Lord, woman, ye need to tell the lad!”
“I’m not going to tell him. You are.”
“Me! Why do I have to tell him? I’m not the one that ordered the bride, nor am I the one to put all that blarney in a letter and send it off!”
“It was the truth, and you know it!”
“Pah! Ye wrote he was looking for his lady-fair and that he couldn’t wait to cherish her and call her his own.”
“Those were not my exact words, but they were meant to get a point across. Besides, you put it in the post, Mr. Brody, and since you were the one that done the mailing, I assumed you approved of what I wrote!”
He threw his hands in the air, walked to the bed, and grabbed his jacket. “He’ll be madder than a rattler with us.”
She went to him and wrapped her arms about his waist from behind. “He’ll thank us later, you’ll see. It’s for the boy’s own good. With a wife he’ll stop fighting, settle down, and in time, give us grandchildren …”
“Or he’ll run away.”
She pulled him around to face her. “Nay, Mr. Brody, you’ll see. That boy is smarter than the both of us. Even he can’t dispute the logic in it. Where is he, anyway?”
He picked up his hat and smashed it onto his head. “Gone to help Finn dig a few graves I suspect. They’re short handed again.” He spun to her. “And I certainly hope you’re right, Mrs. Brody. Because if he leaves, I’ll not be speaking to you again!” He stomped out of the room and down the stairs.
“I’m always right, Mr. Brody,” she said with a smile, and followed him. Together, they left the house and were off to fetch their son’s mail order bride.
Two
Adaline smoothed her jacket and straightened her bonnet. She could already see a big difference in the people of Oregon City compared to the folks she left behind in New Orleans. They were rough looking, wild, free. The women looked hardy and strong, and she suddenly felt out of place with her brown and gold embroidered traveling dress and all its finery. But she shouldn’t judge, and instead squared her shoulders as the stage pulled onto the city’s main street and after a moment, came to a stop.
She glanced out the window as people gathered on the boardwalk and waited for the passengers to disembark. She swallowed hard as one of the drivers hopped down, opened the door, and extended her a hand. She looked at the worn out man and watched in fascination as he chewed, then spit. “End of the line, ma’am,” he said.
She gave him a half smile, and took his hand. As of this moment, her life was about to change forever. She disembarked, and took in the many faces watching her and the other passengers. She was one of five, and was relieved to be out of the cramped coach, but would she be as relieved when she spied her betrothed for the first time? She didn’t even know what he looked like!
“Excuse me,” a woman said.
Adaline turned and looked into the most beautiful violet eyes she’d ever seen. She then quickly took in the rest of the woman. She had black hair with two wide streaks of grey at each temple. It was striking with her blue hat and matching day dress. “Yes?”
“Are you Miss Dermont?”
“Yes, I am,” she answered.
The woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “I’m Mrs. Brody, and this is Mr. Brody, we’re going to be your in-laws. I can’t tell you how happy we are to finally be meeting you.”
Adaline’s eyes lit up. She’d not expected such a warm welcome, or one by her groom’s family. “Why, thank you very much.”
“Do ye hear that, Mr. Brody? She’s got a wee accent! Isn’t it lovely?”
“Lovely,” said a tall man next to her. Adaline had never seen such a handsome couple and smiled at the thought the pair begot her betrothed. Speaking of which, she looked around to see if she could spy a man of the same ilk as the one before her. But there was none. “May I inquire after Lorcan Brody? Is he not here?”
“Oh, he had a wee bit of work to finish up this morning,” Mrs. Brody explained. “So we thought we’d help him out and meet you.”
Mr. Brody groaned.
“Oh, well, isn’t that nice?” Adaline said. “I’m so looking forward to meeting him at last.”
“And he you!” Mrs. Brody exclaimed. “My, but you’re a pretty thing.”
Mr. Brody dropped back a few steps and choked.
Mrs. Brody glared at him over her shoulder, and then took one of Adeline’s hands in her own. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of this day, dearie. You’re going to make my son very happy.”
Adaline smiled as her heart warmed. “That’s so kind of you to say, I …”
She never got to finish. Before anyone could speak the sound of shattering glass rent the air, followed by a man sailing through a storefront window not feet away. He landed on the hard ground with an audible “umphf” before he rolled onto his back with a groan.
Mrs. Brody gasped in shock as four men came running out onto the boardwalk in front of the establishment, and slapped each other on the back. “Well, well, Lorcan! Looks like we’ve won our bet and you won’t be fighting for McPhee next week!”
The man on the ground sat up, shook his head, and rubbed his jaw as another man came running out of the building. He took one look at the man on the ground, gave a squeak of alarm, and headed straight for him. “That wasn’t a fair fight, four against one!”
“Well Finn, you didn’t say we had to be fair!” one of the men on the boardwalk chortled. The four laughed, and slapped each other a few more times.
“LORCAN BRODY!”
All eyes riveted on the dark-haired fury in a blue dress. The four men on the boardwalk gasped in fright and dove back into the building to take cover. “Just look at you!” Mrs. Brody snapped. “Get up and get home, NOW! And ye’ll be paying for Mr. Gustav’s window out o’ yer wages!”
Adaline gasped. Lorcan Brody? Her BETROTHED? She looked at him more closely. He was tall and powerfully built, his frame barely contained in the shirt and pants he wore. He sported a horrible black eye and bruised jaw. One temple was also black and blue with a tinge of green. She then looked to Mr. Brody. The resemblance was unmistakable. “Oh, dear Lord.”
“Now, it’s not what it looks like, dearie,” Mrs. Brody quickly explained.
“It’s not?” Adaline croaked, her face screwed up in confusion.
“Trust me, by the time I’m through with him, he’ll look a lot worse!”
Lorcan jumped to his feet. “What are you telling this young woman? Let her alone and leave me be. I’ll handle this my own way.” He turned and promptly punched Finn in the face. “That’s for speaking for me and telling folks I’ll fight them!” He stomped off without another word to leave the man called Finn, holding his nose in a silent grimace.
Mrs. Brody grabbed Adaline’s hand and began to drag her along as she stormed down the street after him. Mr. Brody remained behind and without looking at him, handed Finn a handkerchief. “There’ll be no peace in my house for a month,” he lamented.
Finn put the cloth to his nose. “Who was that beautiful creature?”
“Lorcan’s bride.”
Finn coughed, sputtered, and did a double take. “Bride! What bride?”
“The one Mrs. Brody ordered for him.”
“Does Lorcan know?”
“He will as soon as he gets home.”
Finn could only stare. “You’re joking …”
Mr. Brody looked at him. “The Reverend Franklin is waiting there now,” He gave his attention back to the street with a sigh. “No, not a moment’s peace for a month …”
* * *
Mrs. Brody continued to pull Adaline along as she grumbled to herself in what Adaline assumed was Irish Gaelic. She switched back and forth between Gaelic and English as she strode purposefully down the street after her son, a man who paid her no mind, and instead kept his pace steady. She wondered how he got so beat up, but then remembered the words “fight” and “speaking for me.” Had the other man, the one called Finn got him into trouble? What sort of man was this?
“Just wait until I get my hands on that boy!” Mrs. Brody gr
umbled.
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, but he doesn’t look like a boy to me.” Adaline said as she stumbled. “Oh!”
“Careful dearie, don’t break a leg before I get you home and married!”
“Am I to take it, that is your son?” Adaline asked and pointed to the man who walked ahead of them.
“Aye he is, a fine lad … most of the time … except when he fights.”
“Fights?” Adaline asked alarmed and pulled her hand out of Mrs. Brody’s. “What do mean, fights?”
Mrs. Brody stopped and turned. “Now, it’s not as bad as it appears. My Lorcan was a champion boxer in school, and he makes extra money fighting, but now that you’re here, he’ll stop.”
“Stop?”
“Aye, now come along, I want to have the chance to kill him before he marries you.” She grabbed Adaline’s hand again, turned and stopped. “I’m sorry, dearie,” she said over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean literally kill him, but I’m definitely going to give him a piece of my mind.”
They started off again, and didn’t go far before they came to a pretty, two-story building. A beautiful sign that read ‘Brody’s Books’ graced the front, and an awning of green and white shaded the entrance against the late winter sun. Mrs. Brody marched them through the front door, and Adaline thought she’d entered Heaven.
The store took up the entire first floor of the building, and there were shelves and shelves of books in neat rows throughout. Near the front counter was a glass case with trays of candy and other sweets. The sight made Adaline’s mouth water, and it was then she realized she hadn’t eaten for hours.