“It is a wise woman who does not shut one door until she has another opened,” Tempest stated firmly. “Come, we will return to the house and make plans.”
Quietly the women filed out and Tempest locked the door. Waiting for them on the boardwalk was the owner of The Bucket of Blood.
“Good Morning, Mrs. Jordon, ladies,” he said politely, tipping his hat.
Tempest observed him for a moment before replying. His name was Lucas Armstrong, but everyone referred to him as ‘Texas.’ Around five years ago he’d ridden into town and bought the saloon within days, turning it into a thriving business. The only thing in his favor, as far as she was concerned, was that he did not employ prostitutes. He left that to the shacks along the wharf.
“Good Morning, Monsieur Armstrong,” she finally replied. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“My curiosity has gotten the better of me, ma’am,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin. “I’m wondering what interest you ladies have in the building next door.”
Tempest eyed his tall frame as he began to help each of the ladies into the wagon. He was especially careful with Amelia, but grinned roguishly at Effie.
“I have acquis the building,” she replied shortly.
“For what purpose?” he inquired, his blue eyes narrowing a bit as he put his arms around Grace’s waist and lifted her easily.
“It is our intention to form a Ladies Aide Society,” Clara said clearly and firmly, surprising all of them.
“Which is?” he asked as he approached her.
“For the betterment of Seattle as a whole,” she replied, swatting at him when he plopped her onto the back of the wagon.
“In what way?” he demanded, leaning down and staring into her eyes.
“Why in every way, Mr. Armstrong,” she insisted sweetly as she brushed at her dress where he had touched it as though his hands were dirty. His lips tightened.
“Would you care to be more specific?” he asked, through his teeth.
“Not at this moment,” Martha intervened smoothly. “All will be revealed in due time. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have errands to run. Good day to you.”
Mr. Armstrong backed away from the wagon and gave a slight bow.
“Certainly. You ladies have a good day,” he said pleasantly. His eyes were still watching them when Tempest snapped the reins.
“Why didn’t you just let me tell him?” Clara demanded as soon as they pulled away.
“There’s no sense starting trouble before we have to,” Martha replied. “I doubt Mr. Armstrong will take kindly to having a women’s dress shop and a Temperance Society attached to his saloon. It won’t be good for business. Besides I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“How was he looking at me?” Clara asked surprised.
“Like he’d like to blister your bustle,” Grace put in. “I know that look quite well and it’s best to avoid it whenever possible.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Clara snorted in outrage.
“You’re very young, Clara,” Jane added. “Trust that none of us would give you bad advice. Were I you, I’d be careful not to rile that man unnecessarily. Despite his seemingly genteel southern manners, I’ll bet he has a temper. Tempest, Amelia, Grace and Effie each have the protection of their husbands. I’m a little too old for that sort of thing, but the rest of you are fair game, especially if Martha is going to break her engagement to Ethan. I think you’d best all be careful.”
“I’m engaged to Mr. Ferguson,” Ellie insisted with a touch of smugness as she patted her blonde hair into place. “Surely he wouldn’t try anything with me.”
“Mr. Ferguson is in Portland much of the time,” Jane said sternly. “I’ve seen some of your arguments with that man and lord knows we’ve all heard them. I doubt it will be long before you find yourself over his knees if you don’t learn to control your temper.”
“Surely not,” Ellie gasped.
“Please yourself,” Jane replied. “Just don’t say you weren’t warned. A woman should have a little measure of respect for the man she’s about to wed.”
“I do respect him,” Ellie insisted. “He just makes me so mad.”
“You can get mad, everyone gets mad now and then,” Jane continued. “What you can’t do is speak disrespectfully or be rude and obnoxious.”
“Am I obnoxious?” Ellie asked in surprise.
“Frequently, and it may get you spanked. You should show more decorum, isn’t that right Tempest?” Jane asked.
“Ah, I am not the woman to ask such things,” Tempest replied. “I enjoy, how you say… getting in Duncan’s um… craw? The spankings are not so nice, but the loving after, that is magnifique,” she continued, laughing gaily.
For a moment there was dead silence in the wagon, then Amelia started to giggle and, before long, all the women were laughing and blushing wildly. Jane shook her head and gave up. Martha looked away.
Was she disrespectful to Ethan she wondered on the way back to the house. Had she been argumentative? Did she try to strip away his authority? She didn’t think so, at least not intentionally. They certainly didn’t have the kind of arguments Ellie and Clayton Ferguson had.
But she was stubborn, to a point, she admitted. And she did have a temper even if she didn’t resort to vulgarity. Martha knew her voice could be biting at times, especially if she felt threatened in any way.
Did she feel threatened by Ethan? Not really, although he’d made his intentions perfectly clear on more than one occasion. He would treat her with respect and dignity as long as she deserved it. Should she behave in a way not suitable for a young married woman, or defy him in a childish fashion, she could expect to find his huge hand connecting with her bottom. It really was as simple and complicated as that.
Now, since the accident, well that’s how the women referred to Effie and Suzanna’s life threatening ordeal. The men referred to it as plain foolish disobedience that nearly cost both women their lives, but since then, Ethan was even more insistent that she obey him.
Martha believed it galled him that not only had he been dancing attendance on her for months, waiting for her to agree to marry him, but once she agreed she’d then postponed the wedding several times. Maybe he felt he was losing face in front of the other lumberjacks. It could certainly frustrate Ethan that he could demand the respect and compliance of several dozen men as their foreman but couldn’t get one rather petite dressmaker from Philadelphia to cooperate.
It saddened Martha that her future husband had been nothing but kind until Effie and Suzanna were almost killed. Her best friend Charlotte, who was happily married to Marshal Hadley, advised her to let it go and marry the poor man. Charlotte saw nothing untoward in Ethan’s demands. After all, what man didn’t expect his wife to mind his words?
Martha was not of the same mind at all. She felt her judgment was just as sound as Ethan’s and her opinions just as important. They were a mismatch she told herself. It didn’t matter if her heart beat faster whenever he was near or that his kisses made her weak in the limbs. That was just chemistry. What mattered was a meeting of the minds, two people who both believed the same things could have a successful marriage, even if they didn’t melt in each other’s arms.
No, she hadn’t better marry Ethan. She would open her dress shop and remain single until such time as a man came along who would see her as an equal. If she ended up being a spinster, so be it. There were worse things, like being married to a man who thought it was his right and obligation to upend you whenever you had an original thought of your own.
She would tell him the next time he came calling. There was no sense in putting it off any longer than need be. He would be free to seek a bride elsewhere, and even though the thought of seeing him with another woman made her feel weak and shaky, she would deal with it if and when the time came. Certainly she was mature enough to handle that.
Having made her mind up, Martha watched the passing landscape through tear-filled eyes
.
It didn’t take long for the women to draw up massive lists of everything they’d need. Jane kept the tea cups filled and offered her opinion when asked. She didn’t expect to have much time to devote to the cause once her children arrived in any case.
She fully expected to be far too busy caring for them and working for Doctor Martin as his nurse and assistant. He was going to be quite put out when he found she’d sent for the children on her own. Many times he’d offered to pay their fare to the Northwest Territory, but Jane always put him off. She was their mother, their only surviving parent and it was her responsibility to provide for them. The trip would be long and arduous and she’d paid a woman to accompany them.
It bothered her that she couldn’t find someone she knew or at least knew of, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d answered an advertisement from a woman looking to come west. By her letters, the woman was older, well-educated and had good manners, and when she agreed to escort the children for naught but her passage, it was too good to pass up. Jane expected them to arrive in a month or so. By then she’d have broken the news to the good doctor. Hopefully, any anger he felt at not being consulted would have blown over by the time they arrived. He was a good and decent man, if a touch bossy, and she didn’t want the children’s first impression of him to be tarnished. She prayed they would get along. Doctor Martin had not mentioned marriage as of yet, but he had kissed her a time or two and seemed to enjoy it. He was the kind of man one wanted to pinch occasionally to hurry him along, and so far, she’d been able to restrain herself from asking outright what his intentions toward her were.
In any case, he paid her well and she should be able to provide a home for her children without taking him as her husband, if he didn’t get really angry and fire her. Not that she believed that for a moment, but there was always a chance. Some men didn’t take kindly to being thwarted and she’d done just that by going behind his back and taking matters into her own hands. Maybe she wasn’t the best one to give advice to the other girls, she thought ruefully as she filled the kettle once again.
“So it’s decided,” Effie said, standing at the table. “We have an idea of the space Martha will need for her shop. We’ll have a partition built between the meeting hall and Martha’s with a connecting door. Amelia, Grace and I will give our husbands a list of material we’ll need to get started and see if they can spare a few men to help out. Mary and Clara will take care of finding out what it will cost for banners, signs and papers to hand out once we know when we will officially open. Tempest will arrange for the tables and seating as well as decorating the hall and Ellie will ask Mr. Ferguson for a substantial donation to help cover the costs. She’ll also pick up what she can the next time she goes to Portland.
“Martha, we are at your disposal. Whatever help you need getting your shop up and running, just ask.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I can count on Charlotte as well. She’s very handy. Are we going to openly announce what we are planning?”
“I think for the time being we should continue quietly,” Amelia suggested. “We’ll soap the windows, and if anyone asks what we are doing, we’ll mention Martha’s shop and leave it at that. No sense stirring up the town before we’re ready. I imagine we’ll get enough resistance from the men as it is. Agreed?”
“Yes,” they all murmured but for Tempest.
“I will tell Duncan,” she stated firmly. “It is best he gets used to the idea. He does not like surprises. But we will keep it in the family, oui?”
“All right, we will only tell those who need to know,” Amelia sighed. “I guess Hugh would think I wanted an awful lot of things for just one dress shop anyway. I must get home. He has such a fit if I don’t take a nap. I swear he’s like a nanny.”
“He loves you, ma petit,” Tempest said, rising as well. “He wants what is best for you and the bébé. Ladies, we will meet anon.”
As soon as the Jordon women left, Ellie, Mary and Clara retired to their rooms. Martha stayed downstairs to help Jane with the dishes.
“You’re going to break your engagement, aren’t you?” Jane asked as she washed and Martha dried.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Ethan is a good man.”
“No, I’m not sure at all, but I’m not sure I should marry him either and that’s no way to start off. He’s waited long enough. I need to set him free so he can find another bride.”
“I doubt he wants another bride or he wouldn’t have waited this long for you. Have you given any thought to the idea that he may be very angry?”
“Angry?”
“Yes. Every man has an end to their patience,” Jane pointed out.
“I believe he’s already there,” Martha said sadly. “He’s changed since the accident. I fully expect he’ll be relieved to finally be released from his promise to me. He hasn’t kissed me; I mean really kissed me since the night Charlotte married Cole. I think he no longer wants me in that way.”
“Perhaps it’s just the opposite,” Jane suggested. “Perhaps after holding you in his arms and kissing you, he no longer trusts that he can… control himself. Maybe he’s afraid that if he touches you again he’ll carry you off like a mad man and make passionate love to you?” Jane continued, almost dreamily.
“Oh, Jane,” Martha laughed. “You do say the strangest things. Ethan has more self-control than any man I ever met. He’s a virtual saint.”
“Yet he’s not the one for you,” Jane drawled with a secretive smile. “I wonder…”
“What?”
“Oh nothing.”
“No, really I want to know,” Martha insisted. “What do you wonder?”
“I wonder if Ethan the saint has been too much of a gentleman for you. Maybe he should have taken you in hand months ago. Maybe he should give you a lesson in what true passion feels like. Not enough to ruin your reputation, mind you,” Jane added sternly. “Just enough to see if he stirs you as a man should stir the woman he wants to wed.”
“Well, he’d better not,” Martha snapped, setting down the damp towel. “Not unless he wants me to blacken his eye,” she continued, stomping from the kitchen.
“Better have a step stool handy,” Jane called after her with a laugh. My, these girls were certainly entertaining, or would be if she didn’t have her own troubles to worry about.
Chapter 4
In the end, they all lied. Every single one of the women, when confronted by their husbands, told them they wanted the building materials and/or money to help Martha set up her dress shop.
Amelia told Hugh it was the least they could do.
Grace told Jonah that, in the grand scheme of things, it would save him a lot of money in the long run, as she could buy her clothes in town instead of traveling to San Francisco.
Effie told Sam she and Grace needed the money to plan a baby shower for Amelia.
Ellie, after giving careful consideration to what the girls had said in the wagon, sweetly asked Clayton for money to help her friend get established in the dressmaking business.
Even Tempest, who’d clearly stated she was going to be honest with Duncan, changed her mind when she noticed the unholy gleam in his eye. No, sometimes it was best to keep her own counsel and this seemed to be one of those times.
By the end of the week the women had pooled their money, soaped the windows of the building good and hired two young men to help them, providing they keep their mouths shut.
Armed with aprons, pails and mops they set about cleaning the area while Amelia rested on a lovely brocade lounge Tempest brought from her home.
“Where are you going with that, lass?” Duncan asked as it was loaded into the back of the wagon.
“Martha needs it for les dames to rest upon while they are making their selections.” Kissing him on the cheek, she hurried down the front steps and climbed into the wagon, giving a vague wave in his direction.
Martha pulled what money she had out of the bank and threw every
thing into making the most out of her shop. Charlotte came to town as often as she could, and while she worked her decorating magic, she frequently looked at Martha and shook her head.
“What?” Martha demanded one morning wiping the sweat from her forehead. They were alone. It had been decided they should not all be there at the same time as it would only make their men more suspicious. While no one could dictate where Martha opened her dress shop, they would have plenty to say about the location of the Ladies Aid Society their wives were setting up and it best not be next to a saloon.
“I just don’t understand you,” Charlotte sighed. “You have a good man who loves you and wants to give you a home and a family, and you’re going to throw it all away because you’re afraid of a little old spanking. I swear, I could spank you myself,” she insisted, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at her friend.
“I’m not afraid of a ‘little old spanking,’” Martha snapped. “It’s what’s behind it that matters.”
“There’s nothing behind it,” Charlotte shot back. “You do wrong, you misbehave, and you pay the price. That’s it. It’s over and chances are you’ll think twice about doing it again.”
“Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds?” Martha asked, her mouth gaping. “Who died and made Cole Hadley your boss?”
“I made him my boss when I married him,” Charlotte replied. “I agreed to love, honor and obey him. It’s really as simple as that.”
“And would he approve of what you’re doing here today?” Martha demanded.
“You know he wouldn’t. Oh, he’d have no problem with me giving my best friend a hand, but we both know this is about more than a dress shop.”
“Then why are you here? Why, if you’ve promised to obey him, are you working so hard to help with something you know he’ll be dead set against?”
Martha (The Marriage Market Book 5) Page 3