The Agent's Mail-Order Bride

by Heidi Vanlandingham

  It was the black-haired woman she noticed in the saloon last night, standing behind the owner while he played cards.

  It was the woman from last night. Daylight softened her features, and she looked younger than Cat first thought. Her skin was pale and she had rich brown eyes. Her face was painted with rouge and red lipstick, which did nothing for her. She would be striking without putting makeup on her face and wondered why she did it. Did she work at the saloon?

  “This has nothing to do with you, Rose, so go on with you,” Ayana said in a tired voice. “I earn my keep like all the other women who work for Mr. Sutton...unlike you. I take care of his girls. What do you do?”

  “Pish! You know full well how John and I feel about each other. Why, I might as well be your boss instead of him because he leaves the running of the saloon to me, now doesn’t he?”

  “No, Rose, he doesn’t. We answer to him, not you. Now, I’m not asking you again. What did you want?”

  Cat’s gaze moved from Ayana to the disagreeable woman, wondering at the animosity all but sparking in the space between them. That is, until both sets of eyes turned to pin her in place. “What?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the question.

  “My name is Rose Marie Adams, Miss...?”

  “Catriona Stewart.”

  “Yes, well, Miss Stewart, the bartender mentioned you asked about Monty Adams. Why?

  “I answered Mr. Adams’ bride advertisement. We were to be married.”

  Rose’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “He did what? That’s preposterous!”

  Cat’s teeth clenched together as she fought the instant surge of anger at the woman’s words. “I can assure you, Miss Adams, he did just that. Ayana, what happened to my bag?” Cat couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was somehow related to her intended but pushed that thought away. Monty’s letters made him seem friendlier than this prickly woman.

  Ayana leaned down beside the bed. With a few tugs, her bag appeared, which she placed in front of her on the bed. Cat unclasped the worn leather strap and gently untucked the lining from the outer tapestry and pulled out an envelope. She took out the folded letter inside and handed it to Rose. She marched across the room with a stiff posture and took the parchment, her gaze scanning the hard-to-read penmanship.

  Rose stared at it a moment longer the glanced up and tossed it down on the bed. “John has a proposal for you. He isn’t known for his patience, so I wouldn’t keep him waiting long, if I were you.” Without a second glance at either one of them, she then turned on her high-heeled boots and slammed the door behind her.

  * * *

  Cat set the large tray on top of the bar and waited for Bennett to replace the glasses of beer and whiskey. She almost couldn’t believe several weeks had passed since agreeing to Mr. Sutton’s proposal. Almost. She hated every moment that she served food and alcohol to the patrons of the saloon, but it was making her enough money to rent a room and eat. It was a start. Just not the start she hoped for. She closed her eyes for a moment and gathered what little strength she had left. This was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her life, but she had no idea how to fix it.

  Determined to find out what happened to her intended bridegroom, she asked around town as well as a few of the people working in the saloon with her. All she learned in the last month was that he had been killed and, somehow, Big John Sutton ended up with the deed to the silver mine. Her father used to say if it walked like a skunk and smelled like a skunk, it was a skunk. That certainly fit the bill in this situation. Something wasn’t right in this town, especially regarding Big John and the men who hung on his every word.

  She raised the tray and walked toward the back of the stage, placing a whisky and beer on one table and getting her behind patted in the process. She gave the offender a quick glare then set another beer on another table. Easing her way between several closely placed tables to get to the last table, she passed two men sitting with their heads down and serious expressions on their faces. The blond-haired man looked downright mean as he said something unpleasant enough to deepen his dark scowl.

  Slowing her pace, she heard the other man’s response.

  “So, what’s the plan now?” She handed the beer to the two miners holding out their hands as if they hadn’t just guzzled several drinks in the last thirty minutes. She walked back to where the two men hunched over their table and squatted as close as she dared without alerting them to her presence and pretended to tie her boot strings while listening. This could be the answer to her prayers.

  “No idea,” the blond man muttered. “Yet. How am I going to find a woman willing to marry me? Am I just supposed to walk up to one and say, ‘Hi, my name’s Tate. I know you don’t know me, but I need a wife so I can finish this job and go home. Oh, and you’ll be on your own afterwards ‘cuz we won’t really be married.’

  His lanky friend hid his smile behind the glass mug in his grip as he took a sip of beer.

  “That would be a problem. I don’t know too many women, but those I do know wouldn’t like that at all. How about one of them mail-order brides? Maybe you could place an ad in one of the magazines and just tell Sutton your bride is on her way. We’d be gone by the time she gets here. You just need to seem like a respectable, married man instead of the wild, single one you really are.”

  This was the answer to her prayers and, as if her feet had ideas of their own, they led Cat right up to the table.

  “I’ll be your mail-order bride. That is, if we can come to an agreement about payment.” Both men’s heads jerked up, their eyes wide with surprise. The blond man recovered first, his expression turning to another scowl.

  She bit back her laughter.

  “You know, you’d attract more flies with honey than with the snarl you’re wearing now. What if your face freezes like that?”

  He turned his sky blue eyes back to his companion and shook his head.

  “See what I mean? She’s a perfect example. I don’t have the patience for a woman, much less a wife.”

  Cat set the tray down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. With a little patience and a lot of hard work, you might be surprised at what you can and can’t handle. Most women aren’t as bad as men make us out to be. Take me, for example. I don’t want fancy dresses or frippery. All I want is to live in a well-made house I can take pride in, wear clothing that will keep me warm in winter and comfortable in summer, and have a man who treats me as his equal. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “Is by my book,” the scowling man grumbled while his friend smirked.

  The friend pulled a chair from a nearby table and set it in front of her.

  “Will you please sit? I’m thinking it might be a good idea if we talked.”

  “Yea, like how much of our conversation did you hear?” Tate growled.

  Cat smiled and sat, threading her fingers together and placed her clasped hands in her lap and stared at Tate.

  “I heard all of it. Well, at least from the time your friend asked what the plan is now and your answer, which included how to go about asking a woman to become your wife. Your proposal needs some work though.”

  The companion choked as he tried to stifle his laughter. Tate stared at him as if he’d grown horns.

  “My name’s Thad Carlile,” the man said after he managed to stop laughing. “That sourpuss there is Tate but, I assume, you heard that.”

  “I did,” Cat said over his soft chuckle. “I never wanted to work in this place; I had no choice. Now, you’ve just given me one. I accept your proposal, Mr. Tate. As long as you pay me for my services.”

  She paused with a quick frown. “That didn’t sound at all like I meant it.”

  Ignoring Thad’s second round of choking laughter, she continued, “So, what do you say? Is it a deal?”

  Chapter 4

  Tate stared at the strange woman incredulously, not quite believing what he just heard. Co
uld they be so lucky? To have the answer to his prayers just walk up to the table and offer to marry him? He took the brief moment to study the woman in question. Now that he could see her, he didn’t know what to think.

  She was beautiful. Her skin was unblemished and not too pale, but living out here for very long would probably change that. Her wide-set, green eyes reminded him of a forest of evergreens. Her brows, like her upswept hair, were red-gold, a shade that would glow under the sun’s bright light.

  He watched, mesmerized, as she smiled at something Thad said and swallowed. Something about her pulled at a long-forgotten memory, but try as he might, he couldn’t place her beautiful face. Her smile was brilliant, and her full, pink lips held his gaze. Even though her face lit up, he still saw the hint of sadness in her eyes and wondered what she had been through to put it there.

  He gave himself a mental shake to pay attention to the task at hand and not on this woman—no matter how beautiful she is.

  “This is not the best place to talk about this. When do you get off work?”

  Cat glanced at the clock, partially hidden behind a picture at the back of the bar. “I have one more hour.”

  Tate met Thad’s gaze and gave him a single nod.

  “Meet us in the church when you’re done—and make sure no one sees you.”

  Cat stood, her full lips curving into more of a smirk than a smile as she raised one brow. “My, my, aren’t we secretive.”

  He gave her a droll glance, both of his brows high on his forehead.

  She laughed. “Fine, Mr. Tate, I will meet you at the church, and I won’t be followed. How’s that?”

  He watched the elegant movement of her arm as it bent, her long fingers resting against her hip in a nonchalant pose. He swallowed again and nodded, not quite sure he knew what to say much less keep his voice from cracking.

  “Drinks are on me, gentlemen.”

  She moved the two heavy glass mugs in front of each then picked up the tray and turned around but stopped and glanced at Tate over her shoulder.

  “See you in one hour, Mr. Tate.”

  “Just Tate.”

  A smile curled one side of her sensuous mouth, but she walked away without saying another word and, for some reason, he felt let down.

  Thad clinked his mug against Tate’s. “To our good fortune. Maybe this little mining town will be lucky for us after all?”

  “Don’t jinx it. We need to get a new plan figured out then put it in action. The sooner that’s done, the sooner we can leave.”

  Thad frowned. “What’s your hurry? We aren’t on a timeline, are we?”

  “No...yes...” Tate jerked the hat from his head, running his fingers through his hair before shoving it back down low over his forehead. “From the little time we’ve spent in this town, my instinct tells me there’s something going on here. I just don’t know what yet. I’ve watched Sutton enough to know he’s crooked. He’s a cheat.”

  “I agree. Are you going to take the woman up on her offer? Can we pay her?”

  “Pinkerton wasn’t happy when I updated our situation, but he gave me some leeway regarding expenditures since the female agent never showed. I think we can work something out, but I’ll need to send him a telegraph all the same. Are you staying or coming with me?” He stood and with the toe of his boot, tugged the chair closer to the table.

  Thad glanced over at the woman then met Tate’s gaze. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on her, just to make sure she doesn’t talk.”

  “Good idea.” He gave his best friend a quick nod. “Later, then.”

  He walked through the saloon, ignoring everyone as he went, and shoved open the front door, stepping out into the rutted ground spanning between the buildings on either side. No one had bothered with streets or sidewalks when people began arriving last year, but as the town expanded and more families moved in, the miners leveled the streets, laying down wooden planks for sidewalks then built the necessary buildings.

  His gait was casual as he made his way toward the makeshift post office just off the main street. The small building was almost finished. If the weather held off, in another day or two, it would be. Stepping inside, he walked over to the narrow counter where a young clerk stood, doing whatever it was a post office clerk did. The kid didn’t look a day over sixteen.

  “I need to send a telegraph to Chicago.”

  “Chicago where?” the clerk asked in a bored tone.

  Tate held his rude response in check.

  “Illinois.”

  He waited several minutes, but the boy didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything. Moving at a snail’s pace, he continued to sort envelopes, putting them in a single pile and picked them all up. He turned and, just as slowly, stuck each envelope in a box with about thirty smaller partitions.

  “Are you trying my patience on purpose, kid?”

  “I’m not a kid, sir. I turned seventeen last week. I’m a man now.”

  Tate didn’t know whether to laugh or scream as the clerk’s movements slowed even more. Exasperated, he walked around the counter and pulled out the small telegraph machine. Ignoring the now-belligerent clerk, he sent the message, using the private code Pinkerton had given him so no-one would know who it was for. Satisfied, he dropped a few coins on the counter and faced the red-faced seventeen-year-old.

  “The first thing you should know—as a man—never make your customer wait because they’re the ones bringing you business.”

  He didn’t bother waiting for a response and left, the loud clumping of his boot heels almost satisfying as he shut the door behind him with a forceful tug. He still had about thirty minutes before Thad and the woman were supposed to meet him at the church, but sitting inside the quiet interior would give him time to think about what they were going to do. If he was going to fit in and act like a respectable citizen, someone John Sutton wouldn’t consider a threat and who he might do business with, he would need a wife.

  He stifled the bitter laugh at the thought of considering himself respectable. Not a word he would have ever used to describe himself. The bitterness of his past settled heavy in his chest, and he forced his thoughts to the pretty blonde/redhead. His first impression of her had been positive. She was something special to look at, both her face and body. Too bad her dress didn’t fit better.

  His intuition and imagination told him a stylish dress would showcase the curves that were all but impossible to hide. She also made him want to laugh, which was a totally foreign feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had relaxed, much less laughed. He chose a bench near the back of the one-room building and stared at the brass cross perched on top of the barrel acting as a pulpit.

  “Matt?” Thad’s voice whispered behind him a few minutes later as he dropped onto the empty space beside him.

  “I watched her go upstairs, I assumed to get her coat, and come on over. One problem may be with Big John himself. Seems he’s taken a liking to her. No matter where she was in the room, his gaze followed. Every time one of the miners talked to her, his eyes would narrow. Several times, I thought he was going to jump up and pound a few of them for taking liberties. But she handled them all with finesse—even got a couple of good tips.”

  Tate pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing in thought as he mulled over what he just learned. If this woman agreed to be his wife, maybe he could use her to get to Sutton?

  “Better call me Tate or boss from here on out. I don’t want anyone knowing too much about either one of us.”

  “Is this seat taken, gentlemen?”

  The woman in question stood beside their bench. The two men rose as one. She chuckled and sat across from them.

  “Well-mannered. Check.”

  Her smile widened.

  “Oh, do sit, especially if we’re going to be here awhile.”

  She placed a small, worn bag on the seat beside her, the distinct tell-tale clink of coins could be heard the moment it touched the hard surface.

  “
Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  The wooden legs creaked as they sat, and Tate leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze narrowed.

  “You weren’t followed, were you?”

  “No reason to be. I come to the church every day after my shift ends. If I didn’t come here, it might look suspicious, so all’s good on this front. Now, quit hedging and just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  Thad chuckled, but Tate ignored him.

  “What makes you think I want your help?”

  She raised one shapely brow and stared at him.

  He blew out his breath and sat back. “Fine. I need your help. As you heard, I need a wife, but...”

  He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. She snapped her jaws shut, but irritation showed in the hard glint flashing in her eyes.

  “If we do this, it will be only for show. The reverend is away from town for a few days, so we’ve arranged to have a man pose as him in his place. It won’t be legal. There will be no questions asked, and you will do as I say when I say, understand?”

  She continued to stare at him for a moment then turned her gaze to Thad.

  “Is he always this bossy?”

  Thad grinned but shook his head. “I’ve seen him way worse.”

  Tate turned a dark glare on his friend. “I’ll remember that the next time you need something from me.”

  “Oh, quit your bellyaching. None of this is my fault, nor is it hers. So we have to alter a few...things. Won’t be the first time.”

  Thad’s brown gaze turned back to the woman.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Thad Carlile and this grumpy man I sometimes call my best friend is Tate.”

  She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “I hadn’t forgotten, Mr. Carlile, but since I didn’t say it before, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

  She turned her gaze to Tate. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Tate—”

  “Just Tate.”

  “Strange not having a last name.”