by Kit Morgan
Tom sighed as he walked up the steps to the Sheriff’s office. Why did romance have to be so pain-filled in any variety? Why couldn’t things move along smoothly when it came to affairs of the heart? He’d often wondered about it growing up while watching the men of Clear Creek fall in love and get married. He wanted it, but at the same time, wanted something more. Ever since he met the MacDonalds, a couple that came to Clear Creek upon occasion and had … something … something he wanted, but he couldn’t put a name to it. Yet it was special, and he could see it in the way Mr. MacDonald gazed into his wife’s eyes, in the way he was always at her side, watching over her, as if she was the most precious jewel in the world. And she looked at him with the same intensity. It went far beyond what he’d witnessed in his lifetime, and he wanted it for himself.
He entered the Sheriff’s office, set down the boots, and took off his coat. After hanging it up he went to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. He held the hot cup with both hands to warm them, and leaned against the desk. “Rose,” he whispered. He liked the sound of her name on his lips, the feel of her small waist in his hands, the weight of her body as he lifted her from the ladder. “Rose …”
Tom closed his eyes, her face coming to mind in an instant. “Rose …” His eyes sprang open. “Why’d ya have to go and belong to someone else?”
Another image entered his mind, Dallan MacDonald and his wife Shona walking down the road out of town, hand in hand. No horse, no wagon, nothing. They’d come into town with nothing, and left with nothing. Except each other … and each other was all they needed. He remembered it like it was yesterday, and today realized he just may have found for himself, the same thing. The only problem was, Rose Smith belonged to another man.
* * *
Charlotte dragged her feet. She didn’t want to play chaperone again, it only reminded her of how alone she was.
“Charlotte,” Abbey said, pulling her from her thoughts. “Are you going to finish your dress soon?”
Charlotte’s eyes traveled from the dress on the bed, to her sister. “Yes, I’ll finish it.”
Abbey moved the dress out of the way and sat next to her. “Why so glum? You are looking forward to the dance aren’t you?”
She let go a heavy sigh. “I suppose so.”
“Is it because you have to go alone? I know how badly you want a beau of your own.”
“I’m not going alone.”
“You’re not? Why that’s wonderful! Who’s escorting you?”
“Tom Turner.”
“Deputy Turner? How romantic, he’s quite the hero you know.”
Charlotte picked at an unseen thread. “I know, I was there, remember?”
“He helped rescue you and Elle! I’d think you’d be proud to be escorted to the dance by him.”
Charlotte looked at her. “I know I should be, but … I don’t understand why I’m not.”
“You’ve had a terrible shock with what happened a few weeks ago. Try not to let it bother you, go to the dance, have a good time.” She hooked an arm through Charlotte’s. “I have something to tell you.”
Charlotte turned to her. “You’re not leaving?”
“We are, Billy’s decided, we’re definitely going.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “When?”
“Right after the main thaw. Billy’s thinking of Oregon City now.”
Charlotte choked back tears. “I’m happy for you.”
Abbey hugged her. “Charlotte, why don’t you consider Tom? He’d make a good husband.”
Charlotte gently pushed them apart. “I know he would, but as a husband for me, I … I don’t know.”
“Mother would be beside herself to have both of us married! Maybe if you married Tom, he’d move the two of you to Oregon City! Our children could grow up together!”
For some reason, Abbey’s words were like a knife plunging into her heart. She fought against a chill, and forced a smile. “I’ll consider him, but I’m not promising you anything.”
Abbey hugged her again. “I think the two of you would make a great couple! He’s handsome, witty, funny, and he can sure shoot!”
Charlotte let go a genuine smile. “That he can.”
* * *
Mrs. Quinn took a batch of cookies out of the oven and set them on a worktable. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as Matthew entered the kitchen. “Are those for tea?”
“Yes, the kettle is all ready. Rose is up front with your pa. Maybe you should go see how she’d doing.”
Matthew looked to the kitchen door. “I heard her come back here, a little while ago.”
“And you didn’t speak to her? Land sakes, Matthew, one would think you didn’t want to get married.”
He gave her a bemused look. “Nobody asked me if I wanted to, remember?”
She let loose a little “hmphf!” and turned to the cookies on the worktable.
“Mother, why do you want me to get married so badly?”
She spun to him. “Why? Because everyone else’s son is married! Leona’s boys and you were the only decent men left in this town to marry, then the only decent girl, up and marries Billy! Of course, Leona came up with the idea of mail order brides long before that, pickings for a wife in these parts being so slim! Land sakes, boy, if I didn’t take matters into my own hands, I’d be dead before I see any grandchildren! I had to do something!”
He watched as tears formed in her eyes. She was looking out for him, and for their family. Being away to school didn’t help her. He’d heard about some mothers going stir crazy once their children were gone. Others couldn’t wait to get them out from under their roof. All in all, she’d done him a huge favor, and saved him a lot of time- years perhaps- looking for a wife. When it came down to it, there was only one word to describe his mother’s motive. Survival. His parents had come out west and pioneered this town, they were used to doing whatever it took to make things work for the better good.
He sighed. Maybe it was about time he started doing his part. “I’ll just go up front and check on Miss Smith.”
“You do that, and tell her it’s almost time for tea.”
He smiled and turned to her before he left the kitchen. “You forgot about Warren Johnson.”
“Warren Johnson? Is he back?”
“No, but he will be.” On that note he left the kitchen, safe in the knowledge poor Warren would no doubt suffer the same fate as he. It was only a matter of time before his mother up and ordered him a mail order bride!
He went to the storefront and found his father showing Miss Smith the various drawers beneath the counter and their contents. They both looked to him and smiled. “I plan on putting Miss Smith to work as soon as you’re married,” his father told him.
Matthew smiled. “Fine, pa … sounds fine.”
His father gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing.
“Tea’s about ready. Would you like some?” Matthew shoved his spectacles up his nose and waited for her answer.
She stood and wiped her hands on her dress. She ought to be wearing a store apron, if anyone knew how dusty things could get, he did. He’d spent most of his life in it. “Would you like to wash your hands first?”
“Yes, I think I’d better.”
“Pump’s out back, I’ll show you, follow me.” He limped down the hall, Miss Smith on his heels, and took her to the back door.
She stepped out into the cold and shivered. Matthew hurried to the pump and got it going. She washed her hands in the frigid water, and trembling from the cold, turned to the door. “Thank … thank you,” she said through chattering teeth.
He went to her. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I should have gotten the water for you. Let’s get you back inside.”
She hurried up the steps and waited for him. He was slower, his ankle better, but not enough to keep up. They went inside and sat at the kitchen table. “I’ll see water is brought in. Then you won’t have to go outside again. I’ve been lax in my chores today
.”
“You don’t wa-wa-wa-want to injure your ankle, again,” she said through chattering teeth. “It’s no bother.”
“I didn’t even offer you a coat, what a cad you must think I am,” he stated.
“Maybe your m-m-m-mind is on other things. You did just come from Boston.”
He cocked his head.
“You pa told me you were only home a day before I arrived. That’s not very long to re-adjust to being home. At least, that’s what I think.”
“No, you’re right, it’s not.” He glanced around and realized they were alone, but his father was up front minding the store, and his mother had to be around somewhere, so why worry? “I’ll fix us some tea.”
“Oh, no. I’ll do it. You rest that ankle of yours.” She got up, went to the stove, and warmed her hands over it a moment before she asked, “Where does your mother keep the tea?”
“In that cupboard over there. Second canister on the left.” He watched her gather what she needed, and as she busied herself with the making of the tea, tried to imagine what it would be like to watch her do the simple task day in and day out. But as she put the tea service onto a tray, he had to blink a few times, and shut his eyes tight.
In less than a second, he no longer saw Miss Smith before him, but Charlotte …
Six
“What’s the matter with you?” Spencer asked Tom, as he strolled into the Sheriff’s office. “You look sadder than a coyote that’s just lost its supper.”
Tom stopped whittling, and set the wood and knife on the desk. The simple act of whittling calmed him, and helped him to clear his head. “Nothin’ the matter, just thinking I guess.”
“Thinking about what?”
Tom scrunched up his face at him, but said nothing.
“Uh oh, there’s only one thing I know of, can put a look like that on a man’s face. A woman.”
Tom picked up his knife and sheathed it at his side. “Suppose so.”
Spencer stood a moment and did a count-off with his fingers. “Wait a minute, there are only so many women in this town. Which one?”
“Doesn’t matter, Sheriff.”
“They’re all spoken for except … one,” Spencer said, his last word coming out a rasp. He watched Tom pick up the wood, and let loose a low whistle. “You’re braver than I thought.”
Tom’s response was a weary sigh as he stood.
“Charlotte’s not so bad, I guess- I hope- what made you decide on her?”
“Haven’t decided on anything yet, but when I do, you’ll know.”
“You aren’t thinking of marrying Charlotte and hightailing it back to Clear Creek are you? Because if you are, I need to get help in here right away.”
Tom strolled around the desk and put on his hat before reaching for his coat. “Like I said, when I’ve made up my mind, you’ll know.”
“Just don’t leave me high and dry, you know Clayton doesn’t want anything to do with the Sheriff’s office no more.”
Tom opened the door. “I know.”
“Where you going, anyway?”
Tom turned to him. “To see some women.”
Spencer opened his mouth to comment, snapped it shut, and stared. “What women?”
“The only two left in town,” said Tom, and went out the door. He stood on the boardwalk outside the Sheriff’s office and watched a buggy approach. It was Charlotte. She slowed down and pulled up in front of him. “Are you going to the mercantile?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Would you like a ride?”
He smiled. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said and hopped down to the street. She scooted over as he climbed up beside her. “This is a mighty fine rig you got here, Miss Charlotte.”
“It’s daddy’s, he got it a few years back for me and Abbey. Said he was tired of driving us to town.”
He laughed. “One day when I have youngins’ I’ll be telling them the same thing.”
“You plan on having a lot of children?” she asked as she gave a flick of the reins.
“Haven’t thought about it much, but I think two would be good.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, ma’am, it depends on what I’m doing. If I have a farm, I might want more, to help out around the place ya see. But if’n I’m still a lawman, I don’t know how many I’d want.”
“Why is that?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Less folks to leave behind, in case I get myself shot.”
She stilled, eyes wide. She never thought about it, but then, wasn’t that the reason Clayton quit being Sheriff and went back to apple farming? “I see your point.”
They continued on to the mercantile. A few men tipped their hats as they passed, before falling into hushed whispers at the sight of the pair. The women were more open about it, and pointed first, waved second, almost as an afterthought. Tom knew he was still the newcomer in town, Charlotte the seasoned gossip. Did they wonder if she’d gotten her hooks into him? Would they even consider the notion of someone like him courting one of the Davis women? Or in this case the only available woman in town? But the more he thought about it, the notion of courting nagged at him. Maybe he ought to think about settling down and starting a family. He was twenty-five, had a job and … hmmm … what else did he have to offer a woman? The fact he still had all his teeth?
Charlotte steered the buggy to the mercantile and stopped. He climbed down then went around to help her. He reached up, took hold of her waist, lifted her out of the wagon and set her on her feet, hoping he’d feel something akin to what he felt when he helped Rose Smith down from the ladder. But there was nothing, no rush of blood to his head, no tingling in his spine. He sighed and put his hands on his hips as he puzzled.
Charlotte glanced up at him. “What’s the matter?”
He cocked his head one way, then the other as he studied her. “Miss Charlotte, do women think a lot about marrying?”
She lifted her brow at the remark. “It depends on their age … I guess.” she offered.
“I mean, someone like you for instance, do you think about marrying a lot?”
She swallowed hard. “I … I used to.”
He took in her downcast eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve gone and done it again. I’m always speakin’ out of turn.”
“You’re thinking about marriage, aren’t you?”
He pushed his hat back. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am. I’m thinkin’ about somethin’. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
He motioned to the door. She stared at him a moment, then smiled. “Deputy Turner, I think I like you.”
He smiled. “Well now, no one can say you’re shy about lettin’ a fella know what’s on your mind. Suppose I tell you, I like that.” He held his arm out to her. “Shall we?”
She took it, and together, they went into the mercantile.
Once inside Mr. Quinn greeted them. “Hello! Everyone’s in the parlor, you go join em’ now, ya hear? If I get a chance, I’ll come say hello.”
Tom tipped his hat to him, and escorted Charlotte down the hall. When they reached the parlor, Rose was serving Matthew a cup of tea. Today he sat on the love seat with her beside him. Tom fought the sting the sight caused, and waited for Charlotte to take a seat before sitting himself. “Howdy, Mr. Quinn, Miss Smith.”
“Before we start,” Matthew interrupted, without giving Rose a chance to return the greeting. “I’d like to break with convention, we are going to be married after all,” he said and patted her hand. “I’d very much like to start calling you Rose. You of course, can call me Matthew.”
She stared at him before her eyes drifted to Tom. “Well, if we’re going to go to a first name basis, then why not make it all the way around?”
Matthew adjusted his spectacles. “By that, you mean?”
“I call you, Matthew,” she said and nodded to him. “Which means of course calling Charlotte by her first name, and …” her eyes ventured to Tom and lingered. “… I call
Deputy Turner …”
“Deputy Turner,” Matthew said firmly. “He does not need you to call him by his first name.”
Tom closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He had no right to her, and would have to keep telling himself that. He stiffened his spine and said, “Well now, if Miss Rose wants to call me by my first name, then why not? I know we ain’t the ones marrying, but it’s not like we won’t get to know each other.”
Matthew sat up straight, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“I don’t mean it in a close, personal way, like you and Miss Rose gettin’ married, but … say … say Miss Charlotte and I took to sparkin’… He ignored Charlotte’s tiny gasp. “Wouldn’t that put us all on a first name basis?”
Not only did Charlotte gasp but Matthew bit his bottom lip so hard, it turned white. Tom looked from one face to the other, as he waited for an answer.
“I don’t see any problem with it,” Rose piped up.
Matthew glanced about, his eyes landing not on Rose, but on Charlotte. “What do you think? Are you going to be sparking with Deputy Turner any time soon?”
“That’s not what he meant, and you know it. He’s simply saying that as chaperones, we’re bound to all get to know one another well.”
“That may be, but it still doesn’t answer my question. What do you think?”
“Me? Shouldn’t you be asking Rose?”
“She’s already given her opinion.”