by Kit Morgan
“I knew you’d see reason. Now, let us on to Doc and Milly’s place. This cold is starting to bother my ankle.”
“Is it much further? We could go back if you like.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. Besides, if you really want to hear how to saw a man’s leg off, Doc Brown can tell you. He did enough of it during the war.”
That got her attention. “He was in the war? Oh my!” Tales of adventure at last! Or not, considering what happened to Doc Brown during his tour of duty. Hmmm, perhaps she shouldn’t question him at all. If anyone witnessed the horrors of war, it would be a doctor. She sighed again and continued on. As she walked, a new thought came, one that made her face light up. It wouldn’t only be the war the good doctor could tell her about.
She glanced over at Matthew as he limped along beside her. Perhaps the doctor would be able to tell her about her future husband and his childhood with Charlotte. Matthew Quinn might say he wanted to marry her, but she wanted to know how much of Charlotte he’d be bringing with him when he did.
Eight
Tom drew his gun with lightning speed. Clayton hardly had time to react, and groaned when he realized the deputy had out shot him again. “How did you get so fast?” Clayton asked as he counted what bottles remained. They’d set them up on a log just outside of town. Billy showed Tom where he and the other lawmen did their target practice. He would rather be alone, but didn’t mind Clayton’s company either. Maybe he’d find out how Rose was doing.
“Back home,” he answered as he began to reload. “We had some trouble in town one year, and so pa decided I needed to learn to shoot better, just in case the same thing ever happened again. He’d send me over to the Triple C after chores, and let Colin and Harrison Cooke teach me. They were some of the best shots in the territory then, probably still are.”
“Trouble?” Clayton asked. “What kind of trouble?”
“Strangers came to town, tried to … well, the best way to put is, take over.”
Clayton reloaded. “Take over what?”
“Everything,” he said as he holstered his gun and waited for Clayton to do the same.
They went a few more rounds, and Tom was thankful Clayton didn’t press him further concerning what happened. He probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.
“That’s some mighty fine shooting there, deputy. If I were still Sheriff, I’d be proud to have you. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thank you Mr. Riley. It’s good to know I’m earnin’ my keep.”
Clayton buttoned his coat as they were done with their practice. “So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s the scuttlebutt with you and Charlotte?”
“Ain’t no scuttlebutt, Matthew Quinn needed chaperones for him and Miss Rose. We showed up.”
“You have no interest in Charlotte, then?”
Tom rubbed his face with a hand. How many more people were going to ask him this? “If you were a single man, I’d understand your interest. But as you’re married, and not likely to chase the filly yourself, then I have to ask, well … why are you askin’?”
Clayton chuckled. “Lets just say, despite years of putting up with Charlotte, I do care about her in a way, and don’t want to see her get hurt. True, she’s been a pill, but I think she’s trying to change her ways.”
“You’re right, she is. Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t pay you and your Mrs. a visit.”
“She’s a mighty pretty gal …”
“Yep,” was all Tom offered up. He didn’t want to be backed into a corner where Charlotte was concerned, and give any cause for more rumors.
“Can’t cook as well as her sister Abbey, but I hear she does all right. You ah … you thinking about getting married one day?”
Tom gave him a suspicious look. “Seems an awful lot of folks are interested in my mind on marryin’.”
“It’s a reasonable assumption that someone of your age would be thinking about it.”
“True enough, and I’ve done some wool gatherin’ in that area. Like I told your brother, when I’ve made up my mind, you’ll know.”
“Look Tom, I know it’s none of my business, but if you want my personal opinion, I think Charlotte would make someone a fine wife one day. Just … get her away from her mother.”
“I’ve heard, and I’ll keep it in mind.” He holstered his gun, and they prepared to leave. “How’s Miss Smith getting along?”
Clayton mounted his horse. “I brought her to town, she’s with Matthew as we speak. They’re spending some time while I get some errands done.”
“Target practice is an errand?” Tom asked as he also mounted.
“No, target practice is fun.” They both laughed at that, kicked their horses into a gallop, and headed back to town.
Once there, Tom couldn’t help but meander over to the mercantile. He did need a new pair of work-gloves, his current pair had almost worn clean through, (halfway at least) and didn’t he need another bandana? What about a comb?
The bell above the door tinkled as he entered. Mrs. Quinn looked up from behind the counter and frowned. “State your business, Tom Turner.”
He stopped up short. “New gloves?”
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Very well.” She turned and sorted through some items on a low shelf. When she faced him again she had several pairs in her hands. She spread them on the counter so he could make his selection.
“How do these hold up?” he asked as he examined a pair.
“They sell the best, and I’ve had no complaints.”
“I’ll take em’.” He examined the shelves behind her before he glanced elsewhere. “I need me a new comb.”
“Right over there, behind the hair ribbons. There are combs for men, but they’re mixed in with the women’s. You’ll have to sort through them.”
“I don’t mind.” He went to the spot she indicated, and began to sort through the combs and brushes. “How’s Matthew’s ankle doin’? I ain’t heard from him for a couple of days now, and wondered if it pained him.”
“His ankle is better, thank you for asking. He’s out on a stroll with Miss Smith now.”
Tom’s head came up and he turned to her, a comb in his hand. “That’s nice. Guess they need to be spendin’ time together before they up and marry.”
“Of course, though I wish he’d marry her sooner than later.”
“What makes you say that? I thought you liked plannin’ weddin’s.”
“This one can’t happen soon enough. I’m sure that if I hadn’t sent away for a mail order bride, that Charlotte Davis would have her hooks into my Matthew by now!”
“What’s wrong with her? She’s been nothin’ but a peach since I’ve been here.”
“You haven’t been here long! If you really knew her …”
“Beggin’ your pardon ma’am, but was you and Mrs. Riley that ran out of that parlor in the back of the store, and told everyone I was marryin’ her.”
She snapped her mouth shut, and folded her arms across her chest. She tapped her foot a few times before she looked him in the eye. “Honestly, Deputy, I don’t know what I was thinking. Who on earth would want to marry Charlotte Davis?”
He met her stare head on, and casually shrugged. “I would.” He tossed some money on the counter, and strolled out of the mercantile, a smile on his face. Let the old bat think what she would. She shouldn’t be talking about Miss Charlotte that way. But then, he knew Charlotte had a past with these people, and he didn’t. He also knew she was determined to make things right with them. And for that, he’d marry someone like her. Because right was right, no matter how you sliced it, and she was trying her best to slice up a big helping to the town of Nowhere.
* * *
The door shut, and all Mrs. Quinn could do was stand there, speechless. Was the deputy planning on asking Charlotte to marry him? What else could it be? Her blood pumped through her veins and heated her excitement. She had to tell Leona! Milly! Any body! Oh, and Nellie too. After all, Charlotte was her da
ughter.
She hurried out from behind the counter and down the back hall. “Samuel!” she called as she searched for her husband. “Samuel! I have the most wonderful news!”
“What are you carrying on about, woman?” her husband called from the kitchen.
She ran into the room. “Deputy Turner wants to marry Charlotte Davis, after all!”
Samuel Quinn peered at her over his spectacles. “Do tell? And what other scrap of delicious gossip are you gonna throw my way?”
“I’m serious! He just told me!”
He pulled a needle and thread through a shirt, as he sewed on a button. “Maybe if you spent less time telling everybody everyone else’s business, you’d have time to mend my shirts for me.”
“Fiddlesticks! You’d mend them yourself anyhow. Can you hitch up the wagon for me?”
“Hitch up the wagon? What for? Tarnation, who cares if it’s Deputy Turner that wants to marry Charlotte? Good Lord, as least somebody does!”
“That’s why I need you to hitch up the wagon! This can’t wait! I have to speak with Nellie. I doubt she even knows. Why, I’ll just bet that boy is going to propose any day now!”
Samuel let go a heavy sigh and set his sewing down. “Mrs. Quinn, there are times like now, when I’d love to bend you over my knee and …”
“Mr. Quinn! You’ll not speak to me in such a way!”
“I’ll speak to you however I want. Imagine me, the lord and master of my own home, having to sew on my own buttons! It’s not right, I tell you. Not right at all!”
“Oh, stop your fussing, and at least let me write Nellie a note. You’ll take it out to her for me, won’t you?”
“Woman, you try my patience. Go ahead and write your silly note and give it to her yourself. It’s Thursday, Nellie always comes to town for her mail on Thursdays.”
Mrs. Quinn’s eyes widened, as she gasped. “The Lord be praised, but you’re right!” She ran out of the room and up the hall.
He slumped in his chair. “Women,” he groaned, and picked up his mending.
* * *
“I’ve never heard anything so fascinating!” Rose exclaimed as she and Matthew made the slow trek back to the mercantile. “Imagine, setting all those broken limbs!”
“I have imagined. It’s one of the many reasons I decided to take up doctoring. An admirable profession, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. The profession was admirable, though formal schooling on the subject such as he possessed was new to her. In her experience, you either had “the touch”, or you didn’t. Those that did became the town doctors and midwives. But what did she know? She hadn’t seen much of the world. Growing up the daughter of a carpenter, didn’t afford a lot of adventure. The most she had, came when the family moved south to New Orleans. Unfortunately, once there, the adventure quickly ended.
No siblings, no relatives to take her in, she was handed over to Mrs. Southerby, and told she would be in her care until further notice. As equally unfortunate, Mrs. Southerby died in the fire that destroyed her small orphanage and was the only casualty. Rose, along with the other orphans in her care, were scattered throughout the city.
Rose was lucky to have wound up at Winslow. Because of that, she was now on the other side of the country, in the most adventurous place on earth (as far as she was concerned, anyway) and soon to be married.
Her heart stopped. She glanced at Matthew and swallowed in trepidation. Why did he have to be the only thing she was unsure of, when he was the reason to be there in the first place?
They walked in relative silence until they reached the mercantile, and Rose began to wonder if Matthew’s ankle was bothering him. He hobbled up the steps and groaned when he reached the door. “Does it hurt badly?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then why do you sound as if you’re in pain?”
He turned to look at her. “See that buggy?”
Rose spied the buggy across the street. “Yes,” she acknowledged, and then asked, “whom does it belong to?”
“Nellie Davis.” He said the name as if it were some rare and fatal disease he’d just contracted.
“Oh dear,” Rose added, remembering their last encounter with the woman. “Do you think she’s inside?”
Loud, high-pitched cackles could be heard from inside the mercantile. Matthew gave her a sardonic look, blew out a breath of frustration, and opened the door.
“There they are!” Mrs. Quinn preened. “The happy couple, and what news we have for you!”
Matthew limped to the middle of the mercantile, and looked to the back hall with longing. Rose watched as he slowly aimed for it. “What’s that, mother?”
“Nellie, go ahead, you tell him,” she urged.
Charlotte’s mother had the same preening expression on her face. “My Charlotte is going to marry Deputy Turner.”
Matthew went completely still, and Rose didn’t wonder if he was leaning on the cane to keep from falling over. He stared straight ahead, his jaw set, and took a shaky breath. “Is that so?” he asked flatly. “Congratulations.” Without another word, he headed for the hall, his pace quicker than before, when suddenly, he stopped up short and turned to his mother. “I think Rose and I should marry immediately.”
Mrs. Quinn gasped. “Oh, but Matthew, there’s no reason to hurry now … I mean … we haven’t even begun to start on her dress!”
“She can wear whatever she wants, it matters not to me,” he retorted, and continued down the hall.
“Well, I never!” Nellie replied. “This isn’t some competition to see who marries first.”
“That boy always was a prideful thing.” Mrs. Quinn commented as she shook her head. “I’ll talk to him, we can’t possibly have a wedding without all the necessary details!” She stepped out from behind the counter, and went down the back hall after her son. Rose stood and watched until she disappeared around the corner, then realized she was alone with Nellie Davis. She glanced at the woman, who looked coolly down her nose in her direction.
“When did he ask her?” The question popped out before she could stop herself, but it wasn’t like nobody else would ask the same thing. Everyone in town would be asking soon enough.
“He hasn’t asked her yet, but he will.”
Rose spun to her, “What? How can you say they’ll be married then?”
“Oh, he’ll ask all right,” she said haughtily. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Don’t you think you should wait until its official, before you tell folks they’re getting married?”
“Don’t be impertinent,” she scolded. “How Charlotte and Mr. Turner handle their nuptials is their own affair.”
“Seems to me you’re handling everything for them,” Rose muttered and turned away.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing of importance, now if you don’t mind, I need to speak with Matthew.”
But before she could so much as turn around, “Of course, we’ll have to arrange it so the weddings aren’t on the same day. I don’t know what Betsy Quinn is thinking having a double wedding. I think it’s a horrible idea. I’ll not have my daughter’s wedding day spoiled by the presence of …”
She stopped when Rose’s head snapped up. “Presence of who, Matthew and me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Rose sighed. “I wouldn’t worry about a double wedding, Mrs. Davis. Besides, why don’t you let Charlotte decide?”
“Charlotte? You silly girl, what does Charlotte know?”
Rose’s face lit up in amazement. How could anyone be so … so … oh, what was the word? Controlling? Condescending? Both! Oh please, Lord, make this woman butt out of it, for Charlotte’s sake!
Nellie ignored the look and made for the fabric display. She fingered the same ivory brocade Mrs. Quinn chose for Rose’s own gown …
Mrs. Quinn, Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Riley for that matter, all three had stormed in and taken over both weddings. As Rose recalled, she
didn’t pick out a thing concerning her own, and here Mrs. Davis sounded as if she decided Charlotte was going to marry Tom, and was setting it in motion. The thought made a knot in the pit of her stomach. She went to the counter and leaned against it for support. Did Charlotte even know what was happening? Would her mother badger her into a marriage she didn’t want, simply because Nellie was caught up in Mrs. Quinn’s frenzied wedding plans?
Rose pitied Charlotte, because Mrs. Davis was exactly the type to do such a thing. It didn’t matter if her daughter wanted to get married or not, her mother wanted a wedding to plan. Sudden tears stung the back of her eyes, her own wedding going forward whether she wanted it or not as well. She did want her dress to be done, even if she wasn’t the one to decide on it. She wanted to have the details that went with it, too. Flowers and ribbons, bows, and cake … all the things a girl dreams of, and Rose was no exception. But if Matthew wanted to get married right away, she would have none of those things. Not only that, she’d have no more time to think about the mistake she was making. But at this point, there was no way to back out. She’d signed an agreement, and she would make it work no matter what.
She just wished for a way to be happy about it.
* * *
“I can’t believe it! Charlotte is going to be married?” Mrs. Riley’s face was locked in astonishment.
Rose closed her eyes. Every time she heard it voiced, a small part of her reacted with a cry of, no! Yet there was nothing she could do, and wondered why she would have such a reaction in the first place. The sadness that followed, however, was hard for her to ignore.
“We don’t believe it either,” Summer said. “It seems so sudden, they hardly know one another, after all.”
“I hardly know Matthew,” Rose put in.
Each woman turned to her. They were in the parlor, each working on a dress for the upcoming dance. Mrs. Riley set down her sewing. “Yes, but you’re a mail order bride, dear. Those brides and grooms usually don’t know each other before they marry.”