by Sarah Banks
The Black Widow Bride
Mail Order Matrimony, Book 3
By Sarah Banks
Copyright © 2019 Sarah Banks
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Will caught the crate of glass barware a second before it hit the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he shouldn’t be handling anything breakable today, he thought, gently setting the crate on the floor. Besides barely sleeping at all the night before, his palms were sweatier than he could ever remember them being. The reason: He was meeting his mail order bride later today.
He pulled out his pocket watch and studied it. Make that minutes from now. And not just his bride, but her siblings and her young son from a previous marriage. He was just as nervous about meeting Elizabeth as he was her son and her brothers and sisters. At nightfall, there would be seven heads sleeping under his roof, instead of just one.
Well, there were plenty of bedrooms for all. Not only had Will inherited the saloon upon the former owner Hank’s death, but also his house on the hill that overlooked the entire town of Quentin and beyond.
The house was probably the largest for miles, boasting six bedrooms. Hank had built it for his future wife and children, considering he wasn’t married at the time. Having such a fine house on top of a successful business, it wasn’t long before Hank got hitched to Rosalee. One might think that Hank’s money attracted Rosalee but Will had been around long enough to know better. There was love in Rosalee’s eyes every time she looked in her husband’s direction and Hank practically worshipped the ground she walked on.
But only one bedroom of that house was ever filled. Rosalee had died in childbirth just like Will’s own mother. It had been a mortal blow to Hank, who never looked for another wife and followed her to the grave only two years later, far before his time.
Will shook his head at his maudlin thoughts. He often thought about Hank, the saloon was named Hank’s after all. And Will never planned on changing it. He owed his livelihood to Hank and he never wanted to forget the man who was sort of like a father to him. He knew why he traveled down memory lane. Because he hoped to have a marriage such as Hank and Rosalee’s. Heck, if he had half the marriage they had, he’d be a happy man.
He walked out from the storeroom where he had been the past few hours taking inventory and straightening up. Because he hadn’t been able to sleep, he walked to the saloon in the dark morning hours and tried to distract himself with work. It was easier when there were customers, but the time had indeed passed. It was better than staring at his bedroom ceiling.
He surveyed the large open area of the tap room. Filled with a dozen tables and four times as many mismatched chairs, the room was neat and tidy, comfortable and familiar. Will had been coming here for more than half his life now. His father had been a regular patron and Will would come here each evening at closing time and lead his drunken father home, wrestle off his boots and tuck him under the covers.
When Will’s father died, there was no one else to look after him. That’s where Hank had come in. He let Will sleep in the storeroom as long as he attended school every single day as well as completed chores around the bar every day before and after school. A deal Will had been more than willing to shake hands over.
When Hank had built that house on the hill with the six bedrooms Will had wondered if he might get one, but one was never offered to him. He slept in the storeroom until he was seventeen years old and got a job mining ore. The town of Quentin revolved around Quentin Mine and Quentin Mining Company. Will continued to work at the saloon in the evenings and on the weekends, but he no longer slept in the storeroom, instead renting a room at a nearby boardinghouse. The room wasn’t large, but it did have an actual bed and privacy, which had been a nice change.
Will didn’t care either way about his work at the mine. He needed a job and that’s what was available. He never thought about doing anything different. That is, until Hank died and Will discovered he was named his sole heir and beneficiary in the man’s will. Now he owned the saloon and the large house on the hill.
Will had changed little about the saloon itself. The name stayed the same. He offered some higher end liquor, but most of his patrons continued to buy the cheap stuff. He had just started to experiment with making his own beer. He knew it wasn’t the best, Lord knew he had sampled enough of it, but each batch was better than the last. Soon he’d no longer have to be practically giving it away.
Each side of the saloon had its own cast iron stove. This place stayed nice and toasty during the cold Montana winters. Against the back wall ran the length of the bar, polished oak complete with eight matching barstools and a brass foot rail running along the bottom.
He had changed two major things though when ownership of the bar had transferred to him. First, he had stopped providing the services of the ladies upstairs. Those rooms now sat empty and had for the past two years. Secondly, he had taken down nearly every semi-nude painting covering the walls, only keeping one, he didn’t want a riot on his hands after all. The painting was the most tasteful of the bunch, if one could say that. The woman depicted was as close to nude as she could possibly be while still being fully clothed. His eyes flickered to and from the painting and Will smiled. He hardly ever even noticed it anymore, but he was sure his wife-to-be would, and he wondered if she would demand he take it down.
Will caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar and drew closer. He still wasn’t used to his tidied appearance. He had splurged the day before for a haircut and shave at the local barbershop. He was used to doing both himself and had never paid for such a service before, but he supposed if any occasion called for it, it would be getting hitched. He had been subjected to teasing from the barber and his own set of regulars when they found out he was doing it for a woman. Will took the teasing good-naturedly as well as a second round from his own customers when he had opened for business later that day. He didn’t think the change was all that drastic from his usual appearance, but apparently it was, as he had had to endure teasing the entire day and night. Every time a new patron walked into the saloon, the jokes started all over again. Will smiled. Well, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of the crowd that filled his bar faithfully each and every night. They were a family of sorts. The closest to a family he’d had in quite some time, maybe ever.
He was just now noticing that the glass was hazy and could use a good cleaning but there was no time for that now. He had to be on his way.
A knocking came from the front door and Will once again pulled out his pocket watch. It was close to his usual noon opening time. He had been reminding his customers every day for the past week now that he would be closed today. He wasn’t at all surprised someone had forgotten. Hank’s was never closed.
He tucked away his pocket watch with a sigh. He really should be heading to the train station even though he hadn’t heard the sound of the train whistle in the distance yet. But against his better judgement he unlocked the door and there stood Shorty, who wasn’t short at all but one of his most loyal patrons.
“Shorty, I told you I’m closed today.”
“I’ll just come in for a minute,” Shorty said, pushing past him. “You can’t leave an old man out in the cold.”
Will closed the door and crossed his arms. “Fine. Five minutes and then I have to be going. And I’m not serving you any liquor. Not a single drop.”
If Shorty heard anything Will had said, he didn’t acknowledge it as he sat at his usual space at the bar. Instead he complained, “Hey, how come the stoves aren’t lit? It’s almost as freezing in here as it is out there.”
> It was cold in here. Since it was just him, he hadn’t bothered to light the stoves this morning. He kept his jacket on and stayed plenty warm enough with the heavy lifting he had been doing in the storeroom and cellar earlier. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “Because I’m not open today. Remember Shorty?”
“Eh? Not open? Why not? I’ve been coming here since you were in short pants and Hank never closed a day in his life.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Hank had closed down the saloon from the day of his wife’s death through her funeral, but Will saw no point in bringing that up. Instead he said, “Because I’m getting married today. Remember? Tell me you remember something Shorty, otherwise I’m gonna have to drag you to Doc Ellis and tell him you’ve lost what little you have left.”
Shorty made a face. “I remember you saying something about getting married, now that you mention it,” he said, scratching his head. “Not sure why you’d go and do that.” He spun around on his stool.
Will didn’t bother answering, just rolled his eyes behind the man’s back. It was a good thing Shorty had never gotten married. Will couldn’t imagine a woman on earth who had the fortitude to deal with him on a daily basis.
Shorty pulled out the newspaper he had tucked under his arm and began to spread it out on the bar. He reached for a lamp before Will could stop him, making the room brighter. “How about one of your finest whiskies? It’s a cause for celebration, innit?”
“You can’t afford my finest Shorty,” he said, pushing off the door. “Besides, I said no liquor. Remember?”
Shorty made a harrumphing noise.
Will went behind the bar and folded up the newspaper. “Come on Shorty. The train’ll be here soon and I want to be there when they arrive. I’ll be open regular business hours tomorrow, I promise. And if you leave now, your first drink’ll be free. How does that sound?” He shoved the folded newspaper back across the bar and extinguished the lamp.
“Okay, okay.” Shorty slid from the stool and collected his paper, tucking it back under his arm. “But the train’s already come and gone you know.”
Will felt as if he walked into an anvil. He could even hear a ringing in his ears. “But the train’s not due to arrive until twelve-thirty.” He flipped open his pocket watch again to check the time. A quarter past twelve. He held the watch up to his ear. It was still ticking.
Shorty shrugged. “Came early, I guess. ‘Bout forty-five minutes ago.”
“It came early?” Will half-shouted. “It’s never early!”
“Can’t believe you didn’t hear it. Maybe you’re the one who needs to see Doc Ellis,” Shorty said with a smirk.
Will hadn’t heard it. You could hear the train everywhere in town, in his saloon, even in the house on the hill with all of the doors and windows closed. He had been in the cellar for a while, rearranging barrels, taking inventory and sweeping…and whistling like a lovesick idiot. Maybe he had drowned out the sound of the train whistle. He knew it could be heard in the storeroom, but now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure about the cellar. Why hadn’t he thought about that before? And why would the train arrive early the one day Will actually cared who was on it?
“Tell me you’re joking Shorty.”
The man’s brows drew together. “About the train coming already?” He shook his head. “Nah. Why would I do that? Hey, maybe your bride wasn’t on it. You think if she was, she’d be here by now. Dodged a bullet, if I don’t say so myself.”
“Shorty! Get the heck out of here.” Will grabbed the man’s sleeve and tugged him toward the door. He had to lock up and run for the train station on the other side of town. He didn’t want his bride, her young son or her siblings waiting out in the cold for him. That wasn’t at all the way to make a good first impression.
“Alright, alright, I’m going. No need to rip my best jacket.”
He eyed the threadbare brown coat Shorty had worn the entire time Will had known him and shook his head. If the fabric tore Will would buy him a new one, but he had to get Shorty out of the bar, now. He reached for the door, swinging it wide. On the other side stood a woman and several children.
His bride was here.
Chapter Two
She was tall and beautiful, dressed neatly, with black hair and blue eyes. He knew this was his bride. This was Elizabeth. For the first time in his life, Will found himself speechless.
“I guess she made it after all,” Shorty grumbled from beside him and turned, disappearing back into the bar.
Will opened his mouth to stop him but the words didn’t come.
“William?”
His given name on her lips shook him awake. “Yes,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, though call me Will. No one’s ever called me William before in my life.” Well, except for perhaps his mother when she had named him but never since then.
Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “Will then. I’m Elizabeth. May we come in? It’s quite brisk out here.”
She wasn’t fooling. He could see the breath puff from her lips when she spoke. He had to be at the top of the list of the world’s worst grooms to leave his bride and family freezing out in the cold on their wedding day.
Will swung the door open wide. “Yes, of course! Please come in.”
Elizabeth entered first, followed in line by her siblings from shortest to tallest. They walked around the tables back toward the bar where Shorty once again sat, lamp relit, reading his blasted newspaper.
“Shorty, light one of the stoves, will you? I’ll light the other.”
Shorty looked up from his newspaper with a start. “What? Oh, sure.”
When Will finished putting a match to the already kindled wood in one of the stoves, he closed the door and turned to see Elizabeth and her siblings observing the saloon where Will spent most of his time. Both boys were eying the painting that hung to the left of the bar and he noticed Elizabeth elbow the oldest boy and take the shoulders of the youngest, turning him away from the painting.
“You should have seen the other paintings,” he said jokingly and immediately wished he could take it back when the youngest boy’s eyes goggled and Elizabeth’s mouth firmed. They were stored in one of the vacant rooms upstairs. He would have to remember to get rid of them before either boy found them, otherwise he might be sleeping on the living room sofa.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to meet your train! I was working in the storeroom and cellar all morning. I didn’t even hear it. I can’t believe it was early. It’s never early!”
“That’s quite alright,” Elizabeth said, moving closer to one of the woodstoves and holding out her gloved hands for more warmth. “We made it. Although we’ll need to retrieve our luggage from the train station.”
“I’ll borrow a wagon from the livery. We can collect your belongings and take them up the hill to the house after the wedding.” He could feel his heart racing. He was really doing this. He was getting married.
Everyone, save Shorty that is, was looking at him. Shorty was staring at his bride with a frown. Will dismissed him, looking back at Elizabeth and then her siblings one by one. They all shared the same black hair and blue eyes. This was going to be his family, he realized with a smile.
“I was thinking maybe we could all get lunch at the restaurant after the wedding, but maybe we should go first and give everyone a chance to warm up.”
“That sounds lovely,” Elizabeth remarked.
“But first, maybe we should get the official introductions out of the way,” Will suggested.
“Of course,” Elizabeth began, only to be immediately cut off by Shorty.
“Do I know you?” He asked suspiciously.
Elizabeth blinked. “I don’t think so sir, we’ve only just arrived in town.”
Shorty was nothing if not persistent. “You look familiar.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Perhaps you’ve been to New York?”
“Not in over forty years.”
Shorty continued his rude interrogation. “What about Montana? Have you ever lived in Montana?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “This is my first time in Montana.” She hesitated before continuing, “I have most recently lived in Colorado and South Dakota before that.”
Shorty wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never been to any of those places.” Without another word he picked up his newspaper and left the bar through the storeroom.
Will stared after him in shock. That was peculiar behavior, even for Shorty. He turned back to Elizabeth who was looking at him with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry. That’s Shorty. He’s one of my regulars. He, uh, takes some getting used to.”
“No need to apologize. Let me begin again,” she said, turning to the oldest girl who stood closest to her. “This is—”
“His name is Shorty?”
“George,” his sister reprimanded, “it is very rude to interrupt.”
“Aw, I’m sorry Lizzie. I just never met anyone named Shorty before.”
“Well, his real name isn’t Shorty, it’s…” Will realized he didn’t know Shorty’s first name, or last name for that matter. He scratched his head. “You know, I’m not really sure what his real name is.”
“Why’s he called Shorty?” The youngest girl asked. “He doesn’t seem short at all to me.”
“That’s because you’re short. Everyone seems tall to you,” George teased.
“You’re not that much taller than me!”
“An inch!” George insisted.
Elizabeth stepped between them and gave them each a look. George opened his mouth to say something else but closed it again. Alice pursed her lips.
Will fought the urge to laugh and continued, “I don’t know why he’s called Shorty. Let’s say next time you two see him, you can ask him yourselves,” he said, looking forward to seeing two kids interrogating Shorty for a change. It was no less than the man deserved.