by E. E. Burke
“Gladly.” She leaned in for a kiss and he obliged her. His lips were firm, smooth and warm, and his mustache tickled. She didn’t mind the soft hair above his lip but was glad he didn’t have a full, flowing beard.
“I love you,” he murmured in between kissing.
“I love you, too.” She threaded her fingers through his thick, burnished hair, and melted against the lush pressure of his lips. His hands moved up her back, sending delicious tremors through her.
“Are you two done yet?” David’s pointed remark burst their amorous bubble.
Sum drew back with a half-smile on his lips. “We’re just getting started.”
“Not here in my parlor.”
Maggie knew she had a stupid grin on her face, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Sum had proposed. They would be married—although they might not be able to stay in Fort Scott if Sum didn’t have a job. That would be all right, they could come back for visits. “If David doesn’t hire you, we can live in Kansas City and I’ll continue teaching. We’ll adopt the children and take them with us.”
“Slow down, Maggie.” David shifted forward on his chair. He rested his arms on his knees and clasped his hands together. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning, either. “Give me a chance to say something.”
She gripped Sum’s hand tighter. “Yes?”
David didn’t address her. Instead, he spoke directly to Sum. “Hiring you as a clerk isn’t the best option.”
Sum took the news without flinching, and didn’t even act angry. “Very well, I’ll look elsewhere.”
David held up his hand. “Hear me out before you do that. I’m of the mind that you should continue to run the Five Cent Store, concentrate on what you do best. Frankly, I’d prefer to focus on hardware and expand the bicycle shop. We can split up the business that way—two stores offering different merchandise under a combined name—and still be responsible for our own operations. We’ll take a share of each other’s profits. Insofar as your debt is concerned, sell off any excess inventory to whoever will give you the best price, and I’ll make up whatever difference remains.”
For once, Sum didn’t speak right away. Actually, he appeared stunned.
Overjoyed, Maggie leapt up and ran to hug her brother’s neck. “Oh, David, thank you. Thank you.” He returned her embrace without comment or fanfare, in keeping with his nature, which was to downplay his generosity.
She turned to Sum, smiling. “It’s a good idea, don’t you think?”
“It’s a generous offer.” His russet brows drew together. “But I can’t take it.”
Maggie gaped at him. “You can’t take it? What do you mean, you can’t take it?”
“I’ll not accept charity. If, after I sell my inventory, there’s enough money left to do as David suggests, then I’d be happy to go into business with him.”
There might not be enough, but she wouldn’t embarrass her fiancé by saying so, and she understood his reluctance, yet… “I’ve invested a little money in Mr. Ford’s new company. I’ll sell my shares.”
Sum’s eyebrows jumped. “No. Keep your investment, I hear there’s a fortune to be made in Ford’s horseless carriages.”
David harrumphed. “Those wind-up machines won’t replace horses.”
“What wind-up machines?” Victoria returned to the parlor from her extended departure. Maggie knew her sister-in-law had left to give them privacy to discuss sensitive matters, and she also suspected Victoria had put some ideas into David’s head. He was a smart man, but his wife was every bit as clever.
“The horseless carriage,” Maggie explained. “I’ve invested a small amount of money, but Sum and I will be married, and we may need the extra cash.”
“Married?” Victoria’s eyes grew wide. She rushed over and threw her arms around Maggie’s neck. “Congratulations, darling. I’m so happy for you! I knew you two would work things out.”
“They’ve worked out their marriage. Now Mr. Sumner needs to decide whether he’ll go into business with me,” David said.
Sum stood and moved next to Maggie, slipped his arm around her waist. The possessive gesture produced a thrill. “Call me Sum,” he said to David. “All my friends do, and seeing as you’ll be my brother-in-law—”
“And your partner,” Maggie reminded him. “Sum and David are going into business together,” she announced to Victoria.
“That’s splendid news.” Victoria sailed to her husband’s side and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her. She reached up and stroked his hair, lavish in her affection, another endearing quality. “You should announce the new partnership in the newspaper.”
Maggie went along with Victoria’s gentle prod. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”
“First, let’s see if I can cover the costs,” Sum warned. He hugged her, though, and so reassured her that he wouldn’t be backing out on his proposal, even if they ended up having to leave town.
Victoria turned in her husband’s arms with a thoughtful expression. “My father recently sent me a small sum of money to invest after I wrote to him about the business opportunities out here. I’d like to invest in your Five Cent Store, Mr. Sumner.”
Sum didn’t look a bit fooled by her attempt to bankroll him. “If we go into business together, we’ll share the profits.”
“That’s between you and my husband. I’m talking about a separate agreement. My father has never trusted me in business matters before now. You won’t let me down, will you?”
Maggie circled her arm around her fiancé’s lean waist. “He’ll double your money, I’m sure of it.”
“Maggie, you can’t promise her that,” Sum muttered next to her ear.
“You can.”
He shook his head, utterly serious. “I’m done with risking so much. My family deserves a more prudent provider.”
David, for once, spoke first. “Sum, your risks would’ve paid off if your partner had been honest. As Victoria will tell you, I’m a stick-in-the-mud. I need someone who will push me to take more risks. We’ll balance each other out. And I happen to think my wife is right, you’ll double her father’s investment.”
David walked over and put out his hand. “Let’s shake on our new venture. O’Brien and Sumner.
If Maggie hadn’t been watching Sum’s face carefully, she might’ve missed the flash of emotion David’s remarks elicited before the familiar wry smile reappeared. Her beloved hesitated only a moment and then shook David’s hand.
“Sumner and O’Brien has a better ring, don’t you think?”
Epilogue
December 23, 1901, Goodlander Home for Children, Fort Scott, Kansas
“Fear not! We bring good tidings of great joy…” A freckled lad standing in the front of the small-fry choir shouted the verse loud enough to pierce every eardrum in the parlor.
The band of angels that broke into song wouldn’t have frightened shepherds, but they were cute as all get out. Their smiling director and teacher, Mrs. Sumner, waved her arms and kept them singing. More importantly, she gave them a reason to sing about miracles. Under her tutelage, The Goodlander Home for Children prospered.
Charlie Goodlander leaned back in the folding chair, one of a dozen set up in the front parlor of his father-in-law’s former home for the purposes of a Christmas concert. He shifted his substantial weight to relieve a cramp in his back and rested his arms across his chest, grinning at a little girl in a white dress with a pair of wings off-kilter. His knees didn’t like sitting this long, but he’d put up with the aches and pains to see the smiles on these kids’ faces and to know he’d played a small, but important role in putting them there.
The children’s home had opened its doors earlier this year, moving into what had been the old fort’s officers’ quarters and later the home of pioneer settler Horatio T. Wilson.
Charlie squeezed his Lizzie’s soft hand. His wife thought it a wonderful idea to turn her family’s former residence into a safe, loving home for or
phans and had declared she would consider the children who lived here to be their children, as they hadn’t been blessed with any of their own. He was glad he could give her a family, at last.
“Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn King,” the children sang. They sounded pretty good, not heavenly, but close.
It had taken darn near ten years to get this dream off the ground, starting with talking Mr. and Mrs. Sumner into being on the board and then convincing them to run the place. They’d moved in earlier this year with their brood: Elsie, a blond beauty of eighteen, Davy, a rambunctious eight-year-old who looked just like his namesake, and six-year-old twins Annabelle and Francis, blue-eyed cherubs with hair red enough to catch fire. Felix Sumner, the oldest adopted boy, now a strapping young man of twenty-one, and his tow-headed sixteen-year-old brother, Harold, had remained in the apartment above their father’s store where they worked.
Also living at The Goodlander Home were fifteen orphans, all under the age of ten. Soon, that number would swell to twenty. Mrs. Sumner had a hard time turning children away.
As the last verse came to a close, Charlie clapped loudly along with the others, board members mostly, and the Sumner’s large and extended family, which included David and Victoria O’Brien and their clan of six children and one on the way.
“Bravo!” Charlie hefted his heavy frame out of the squeaky chair. Sounded like it might not hold out. Better to stand. He’d hate to end up on the floor on his big ass.
He clapped his good friend, Buck O’Connor, on the back. O’Connor, being a tall fellow, wasn’t as fat, but he had whiter hair. “Those kids better be in this year’s parade, Mr. Mayor.”
“They will be,” Buck assured him, with a smiling nod at his wife, who’d gone over to congratulate Mrs. Sumner. “Amy and the girls helped with the costumes.”
His daughters were grown with families of their own, but he still called them girls.
The big man leaned down and cupped his hand to his mouth, whispering in Charlie’s ear. “You better tell her they look nice. I mentioned an irregularity with the wings and about got my head taken off.”
Charlie chuckled. “’Course you did, because you had to open your big mouth. I swear Buck, you and Amy enjoy a good dispute better than any married couple I know.”
“It’s not the dispute we enjoy so much,” O’Connor drawled. “It’s the making up afterwards.”
Charlie couldn’t contain a bellow.
“What’s got you laughing this time, Mr. Goodlander?” Gordon Sumner’s wry smile said he’d like to be in on the joke, whatever it was. He had a sharp sense of humor, as dry as O’Connor’s. The two made good drinking buddies.
“Oh, nothing in particular, just O’Connor here. He has a funny-looking face.”
Sumner smoothed his hand over a fake white beard, which he’d donned for the event, along with robe and a long cap. Didn’t seem to bother him to look ridiculous. He eyed the Mayor. “Hmm, maybe.” Then Sumner turned to Charlie. “Have you checked in the mirror lately?
Charlie gripped the smartass by the shoulder. “No, Santa, I don’t look into mirrors. Reminds me why Lizzie turned me down three times.”
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Sumner said loud enough to be heard over the conversation. “We’ll be serving cookies and cocoa in the dining room.”
The parlor cleared of children in a matter of seconds, their excited voices trailing behind.
Mrs. Sumner sallied over, all dolled up in a pretty red dress with a white lace cap. She still had to put powder in her hair to make it look gray. Her dark gaze roved each man in turn, suspicious, but still smiling. “What are you three conspiring about over here?”
“What makes Charlie’s face so funny,” her husband answered smoothly.
“Methinks it’s the muttonchops,” O’Connor said with a deadpan expression.
“When they lay me out, will you make sure not to invite these two?” Charlie begged her.
She hugged his neck. “Your face isn’t a bit funny-looking, just jolly. In fact, I was telling Sum the other day that you should play Santa in next year’s parade.”
Charlie’s heart darn near gave out. He wouldn’t have to don a white beard or wig, already being well grizzled, nor would he need any padding around the middle, but he wasn’t about to put on that bathrobe and cap and ride around town in a fake sleigh. He’d never live it down.
“Oh, now, you don’t want to sit next to an old man like me.”
“I’d be honored.” She said it with nary a smile.
He wouldn’t do it for anybody else, save maybe Lizzie, who wouldn’t have asked him in the first place. But this was Maggie Sumner, the woman who had helped him achieve his dream of leaving a legacy. He couldn’t disappoint her. “Why, that’s mighty nice of you to ask, Mrs. Sumner. I reckon if I could play Santa in the parade next year, I’d die a happy man.”
He’d speak to Lizzie later. She’d help him find some way out of it before next Christmas.
Author’s Note
This is the third story I’ve set in historic Fort Scott, Kansas. I fell in love with this town when I first visited Lyons Twin Mansions, a Victorian B&B. After I toured the Fort Scott National Historic Site, part of the U.S. National Park Service, I became interested in Fort Scott’s past and knew I wanted to write historical romances set in this fascinating town.
Her Bodyguard takes place in Fort Scott and surrounding counties, circa 1870, during the early railroad boom. Victoria, Bride of Kansas, and Santa’s Mail-Order Bride are set in the early 1890s, Fort Scott’s heyday. All three books feature historic locations, events and even a few colorful pioneers. One of these early residents was Charles W. Goodlander, whose fictionalized character appears in Her Bodyguard and Santa’s Mail-Order Bride.
Charlie, as he liked to be called, was a leading citizen and generous philanthropist. He arrived in Fort Scott as a young man in 1858, the first passenger on the first stagecoach from Kansas City. (He’d later declare he needed his “medicinal” flask for the wild, bumpy ride.) He took up contracting and building, and over the years expanded into other ventures, including a lumber mill, a brickyard, a furniture store and hotels. He made and lost several fortunes, his mill being destroyed by fire and rebuilt twice. He helped organize the Citizens’ National Bank as its president and served a few terms as mayor of Fort Scott, but largely steered clear of politics. His career was that of a successful businessman, marked by ability, honesty, integrity and fair dealings with his fellow man. His never-give-up approach to life exemplified the spirit of the men (and women) who settled this town.
In 1901, Goodlander bought from the heirs of Col. H. T. Wilson, his father-in-law, the old Wilson home (previously officers’ quarters within the old fort) and converted the large structure into The Goodlander Home for Children. The orphans’ home served over 800 children from Fort Scott and the surrounding vicinity until it closed in the early 1960s.
On Dec. 17, 1872, Mr. Goodlander wed Elizabeth Clay, daughter of Col. H. T. Wilson. They had no children. Mr. Goodlander passed from this life on May 22, 1902. To my knowledge, he never played Santa Claus.
Have you read Victoria’s story? Victoria, Bride of Kansas is 34th in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series. If you enjoyed reading her story, there are 49 more books in the series! Find out about the rest of the American Mail-Order Brides here.
You met Mr. O’Connor, the successful businessman, in Maggie’s story. Meet the younger, dangerous outlaw in his own story, Her Bodyguard. Available from Amazon.
Read an excerpt
Her Bodyguard
by E.E. Burke
Chapter 1
March 1, 1870
Former Cherokee Neutral Lands,
Southeast Kansas
Hell must be like this. Not lit with blazing fires, but cold and gray, barren as the dead prairie. Even the wind howled like a deranged demon, flinging bits of ice into Buck’s face.
He drew the blanket and oilskin tighter, altho
ugh nothing warmed the persistent chill in his bones that’d gotten worse as he’d ridden north through Indian Territory. He was a walking dead man here in Kansas, so it seemed somehow fitting he’d entered the abode of the damned.
He patted Goliath’s neck, glad for the company of his horse. He had few acquaintances, even fewer friends, and none who would risk their necks for another man’s cause. Buck wouldn’t have risked getting his neck stretched had the plea not come from his only remaining kinsman. Although at this point, freezing to death seemed more likely than being lynched.
The saddle creaked as he straightened. All around, he could see nothing but mounds of switch grass and stunted trees. No houses or barns, not even smoke from a chimney. He swore, his breath sending out a white cloud. The wind snatched it away. His plan had been to reach Girard before dark, buy a hot meal and a warm bed before meeting with his cousin to get details on the job he’d come to do. But he couldn’t risk going on. He had to find shelter.
The fading daylight and worsening sleet made it difficult to see, but was that something just ahead? Buck touched his heels to his stallion’s sides, moving closer to the mass taking shape. A buggy, slumped to one side. In front of it stood a single horse with its head down and a woman huddled in a cloak, removing the traces. What the hell was she doing out here all by herself?
Buck sat back in the saddle, uneasy. He’d made it a habit to avoid damsels in distress after being betrayed by one. However, he couldn’t very well leave a woman out here on a lonely road in the middle of an ice storm. With a muttered curse, he kicked Goliath into a fast trot.
On his way to her, he passed the buggy’s rear wheel, lying on its side in the brush like a wounded animal. Odd, he’d never seen a wheel fly off like that. Generally, the metal rim popped or a spoke snapped. Had the axle nut been loose when she started out? She was damn lucky the buggy hadn’t rolled on top of her. He had seen that and it wasn’t pretty.