When he’d delivered the basketful of fish to the hotel, Rollie had asked about her. From the sound of what he’d said, Rollie didn’t know Josiah had ordered Fiona as a wife for himself. Brett didn’t offer that bit of information, and now he wondered if he should go tell Teddy to keep it under his hat for a time. Maybe Josiah was having second thoughts.
Brett wasn’t sure what he thought about that. Probably because he shouldn’t be thinking about anyone getting married, other than himself.
He turned away from the window and crossed the room to pick up the telegram Teddy had left. Hannah Olsen. That was who would arrive on the train midweek. He couldn’t say he remembered which one of the Olsen girls she’d been. All those girls looked alike to him.
The telegram was short and to the point. Much like his mother. It merely said he should expect Hannah Olsen to arrive midweek.
After reading the words again, he set the paper on the table. It was what he’d wanted, yet it didn’t feel that way. Not inside, and he wasn’t sure why. Other than he couldn’t quite believe Hannah Olsen would smell as sweet as Fiona, or that her smile would be as bright, or that she’d spent most of her life worrying about having enough to eat. He couldn’t stop thinking about that either. It not only made him mad at Josiah, it made him mad at her first husband. When a man married a woman, she became his responsibility in all ways.
Walking back to the window, he thought about how it had felt to have his arms around Fiona while reeling in that big catfish. And how cute she’d looked covered in mud after jumping on the fish to make sure it didn’t get away. And how a mass of colors had taken over her eyes while she’d been laughing, and the glow of contentment on her face while she’d been sitting on the quilt and eating fried chicken.
Hannah would probably like picnics and sunrises—most women did—but he couldn’t believe he’d enjoy them with her as much as he had with Fiona.
Brett thought about all those things, and more—namely if Hannah would be anything like Fiona—for the rest of the evening and throughout most of the night, finding it hard to sleep. The next morning as he watched the sun come up, he considered taking coffee next door again but then decided against it.
A smart man would keep his distance and mind his own business.
A short time later, he was glad he hadn’t taken coffee next door when he saw Josiah walking toward Fiona’s house, carrying one of the baskets from Rollie’s restaurant.
That was how it should be, he told himself as he gathered his hat and headed toward the blacksmith shop. Maybe Josiah had been telling the truth, that up until yesterday he’d been too busy to provide for Fiona and her sons. Brett hoped that was the case, for Fiona’s sake.
Wally arrived at the same time Brett did, and they greeted each other as usual before Wally went to open the feed store and Brett the blacksmith shop.
The morning started out as any other Monday would, but within an hour, more men were gathered inside his lean-to than ever before.
Don Carlson had been the first to arrive, claiming his plow horse needed a new shoe. Brett had been checking to see which shoe when the others started to arrive.
“There’s nothing wrong with these shoes, Don,” Brett said, walking around the horse.
Don nodded, as if not surprised, while asking, “Is it true?”
“Yes, it’s true, I just checked, and—”
“He means is it true that Josiah ordered himself a bride?” Bill Orson said from where he stood against the wall. “Without giving any of us a chance at her?”
Bill and Don had donated to the Betterment Committee, hoping to obtain brides. Don’s wife had died last year, leaving him with several children in need of a mother. Bill had moved to town last year and opened the saddle shop.
Brett glanced between Bill and Don and then leveled his gaze on Teddy as he walked into the group.
With a shrug, Teddy said, “Word was bound to get out. Josiah took her to supper at the hotel last night, and this morning he ordered pancakes for her and her boys. He even delivered them himself to the house the town owns that she’s staying in.”
Jules Carmichael let out a low growl. “You don’t say. I never did trust that man. Said more than once he’s a swindler. You can tell by his eyes, they’re beady.” He looked around the group expecting others to agree with him. When few nodded, he added, “Ever notice how he talks a lot yet never really says much?”
While others nodded and mumbled their agreements and thoughts, Wally said, “I doubt he donated to the Betterment Committee.”
“Did he?” Don asked Otis Taylor, the barber, who was also on the town council.
“I can’t say,” Otis answered. “Josiah kept track of all the donors, and he oversees the bank accounts. But I do know he never asked the council if anyone could stay in the house we built.”
The last thing Brett wanted, or needed, was for this group to get all riled up and go off half-cocked. “The council only meets once a month, doesn’t it, Otis?” Not only on the council, Otis was married, and his wife, Martha, had a dress shop in town, so he wasn’t as vested in the mail-order-bride idea as some of the other men. Brett hoped that would help in this situation.
Otis nodded. “Aren’t due to have another one until next week.”
“Maybe Josiah is waiting until then to ask if F—Mrs. Goldberg and her children can use the house,” Brett said, hoping no one would notice his almost slip of the tongue. “No sense having it sit empty.”
“That could be,” Otis replied.
“The other gals stayed at Rollie’s,” Don said. “I think that makes more sense.”
“Me too.” Jules frowned as he settled a steely stare on Brett. “How do you know her name, Brett?”
“She’s his neighbor,” Teddy supplied as he elbowed his way through the men to stand next to him. “Only makes sense that he’d have already met her.”
“How old is she?” Bill asked. “Is it true that she has two sons? Where’s she from?”
For a man who didn’t share much about himself, Bill was full of questions. None of which Brett wanted to answer.
“She has two boys,” Teddy answered. “And I thought she was fine-looking.”
“You’ve met her too?” Jules asked. “When?”
“Yesterday,” Teddy answered. “Josiah introduced her to me, but Rollie told me her name is Fiona and that her sons are Wyatt and Rhett.”
That brought up a full round of questions that flew about so fast Brett couldn’t keep up. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a fast, sharp whistle. When silence ensued, he shook his head. “Fellas,” he started, “I’m sure Josiah will introduce Mrs. Goldberg and her sons to most everyone as soon as possible.” He didn’t feel sorry for what Josiah might encounter, but he certainly didn’t want Fiona to have a steady line of men knocking on her door. “Until then, I think you all should go about your business.”
“You sure don’t seem upset about all this,” Jules said. “And I know for a fact you wanted a bride as badly as the rest of us.”
“He does,” Teddy said. “But he’s already spoken to the mayor about Mrs. Goldberg and was told she isn’t part of the Betterment Committee. Josiah said he paid for her and her sons’ tickets out of his own pocket and that he’s still working on bringing more brides to town. I think that’s what the rest of us should consider doing too, finding our own mail-order brides.”
“How are we supposed to go about doing that?” Jules asked. “I gave any spare cash I had to the mayor to bring one to town for me.”
“Me too,” Don agreed. “He promised twelve and only delivered five, not counting his own.”
That brought on another round of questions. Brett was about to whistle again when Otis banged a hammer against the anvil. “I’m going to go talk to Josiah right now and get to the bottom of this. You can all
meet me in my shop in an hour.”
With boisterous agreement, the others followed Otis out of the lean-to, leaving only Brett, Wally and Teddy standing side by side in the opening of the lean-to.
Brett was scratching the side of his head, wondering if he should tell them to wait here for Otis, when Teddy slapped him on the shoulder.
“That went well, don’t you think?” Teddy asked.
All Brett could do was cast a stare that said no, he didn’t think it had gone well at all.
Chapter Eight
The breakfast dishes were washed, dried and packed in the basket. Fiona had set it near the door with every intention of taking it to the hotel and thanking the owner and his wife for the meal of pancakes and honey, but she had sat down to repair the loose buttons on Rhett’s shirt instead. If not restitched, the buttons would soon fall off. Rhett had a habit of pulling his shirts off before unbuttoning them. Furthermore, she had a distinct feeling Josiah wouldn’t want her to return the basket. He hadn’t told her not to. Or to stay at the house like he had yesterday; however, he had said he’d return the basket to the hotel later today.
She kept telling herself that he was trying and that she had to be happy about that. And had to be happy about how he’d taken her seriously when she’d demanded he see to the welfare of her children. It was only right.
Then why did it feel so wrong?
She could demand such things until she was blue in the face but knew deep in her heart that all the demanding in the world would never make Josiah truly care about Rhett and Wyatt’s welfare. That had to come from inside him, and she feared he might not have that capability.
Another burning sigh escaped as she removed her glasses to rub her eyes. She needed the glasses only to thread a needle, therefore she carefully folded the wire frames and put the glasses back into their leather carrying case. Sam had bought the glasses for her shortly after they’d gotten married, when he’d noticed her struggling to see the eye of the needle.
It shouldn’t be, but it was hard to remember and cherish memories like that. Times when she and Sam had been happy. For they had been. In the beginning, when they’d gotten married and work was plentiful. The bad times of the years that had followed, when he’d lost job after job, and things had changed, seemed to take precedence in her mind, and her heart.
Money had always been tight and she’d blamed the changes in him on the pressures of how quickly their family had grown. Having four mouths to feed was expensive, and she believed that was what led him to associating with the uncouth men he met while drinking. Yes, she blamed the drinking on those pressures too. At one time she hadn’t wanted to believe Sam was a weak man, one who would bow to such behaviors when he had a wife and children who depended upon him, but after his death, she’d had no choice. No choice but to believe it was the pressures and then the drinking that had stolen the man who’d once been a loving husband and father from her and the boys.
Her eyes settled on the front door as if she could see through it, see the house that sat a short distance away. Brett didn’t seem like the drinking type, but neither had Sam at one time.
“If I could go see Brett, I’d ask him if I could borrow a fishing pole,” Rhett grumbled as he struggled to write the letters of his name on the slate board. “Then I’d go fishing. Catch another one of those big cats.”
“We’ve already discussed that Mr. Blackwell is busy working today,” she said quietly.
“I wouldn’t stay long,” Rhett insisted. “Just long enough to ask if I could borrow a fishing pole. He wouldn’t mind. I’m sure of it.”
This type of grumbling was what she’d expect from Wyatt, yet he hadn’t even looked up from the arithmetic she’d instructed him to complete on his slate board.
“You have schoolwork to finish,” she said. “And afterward the three of us are going on a walk.”
“To the river?” Rhett asked with a spark in his eyes.
She shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.” She wasn’t used to sitting around any more than the boys were. The few chores it took to keep the house tidy had taken very little time, including washing a few clothes that were now draped over the windowsills to dry. The washing basin had been large enough for the boys’ clothes, but not for her mud-splattered dress. Without anything larger to use, she’d determined a walk to the river was in order. The children could play while she washed her dress, but she wouldn’t tell them that until after their homework was complete.
“I sure do wish I had a fishing pole to take with us,” Rhett said as he held up his slate for her to see his finished work.
“That is very good.” She took the slate. “You’re getting so good at writing r’s and t’s. I think two more times and your e’s will be perfect too.” As Rhett took his slate, she asked, “Wyatt, how are you doing?”
“Done. Got them all right too.”
She took his slate and quick surveillance proved he did have them all right. “Perfect,” she said. “You’re so good with numbers, Wyatt. I’m very pleased. Feel like completing a set of threes now?”
“Sure.” He took the slate and set it on the floor in front of him.
As he erased his work, another bout of something Fiona couldn’t quite describe washed over her. They were good boys and needed to be loved, appreciated for who they were, and that was something she’d never be able to demand someone provide.
By the time the boys were done, she had all the buttons sewn on securely. While the boys put away their slates and chalk, she gathered her dress and a handbasket to carry it to the river and back, then she and the boys left the house.
The sun was shining brightly and that felt like a reprieve. Casting a smile upon the boys, she said, “This way.”
“We are going to the river!” Rhett shouted. “I knew it!”
“Yes, you did. You are a very smart boy.” Holding up her basket, she winked at him. “I need to wash the dress I got muddy yesterday. It smells like fish.”
Both boys laughed, and that caused a shimmer of joy to tickle her insides.
“Hey, look,” Rhett squealed. “There’s Brett. Can I go ask—”
“No.” Biting her lips for speaking so abruptly, Fiona took a deep breath. She also held it for a moment, hoping to settle the flutters inside her stomach. Even from a distance, he looked big and strong, and handsome and kind. Things she hadn’t wanted to concentrate on but had been thinking about ever since meeting him. So opposite from Josiah. Which was something else she shouldn’t be concentrating on. Or admitting. Or thinking about. “Mr. Blackwell is a busy man. We mustn’t interrupt him while he’s working.”
“We’d need to borrow more than fishing poles,” Wyatt said. “We’d need the shovel and can for worms too.” Looking up at her, he added, “We still need to eat the fish we caught yesterday. Brett said he’d have the owner of the hotel store it in his icehouse for us.”
“So he did,” she answered. “Perhaps on the way home, we’ll stop and see about that.”
“Yippee!” Rhett shouted. He then waved at Brett. “We’re taking a walk to the river, but we’ll stop and see you on the way back!”
“I meant we’d stop at the hotel,” Fiona muttered.
Brett was returning Rhett’s wave, and the flutters in Fiona’s stomach increased as his eyes settled on her. Late last night, while trying to convince her body it was time to sleep, she’d remembered what it had felt like to have Brett’s arms around her. How strong and solid they were, and how secure they’d made her feel. That comfort had been what had finally lulled her to sleep.
“Be careful,” Brett shouted.
“We will!” Rhett shouted in return.
Fiona set a hand on Rhett’s shoulder to steer him back on the path she was set on taking—around the backside of Brett’s building.
“I sure do like Bre
tt, Ma,” Rhett said, looking up at her. “Don’t you?”
She drew another deep breath, but it wasn’t any more stabilizing than the other one she’d taken. “Mr. Blackwell is a fine neighbor.”
“Yes, he is,” Wyatt said. “We could have done worse.”
“I suspect you’re right,” she told Wyatt. “And I’m certain we’ll meet many more nice people. The hotel owner seemed nice too, as did his wife and boys.”
“Too bad we won’t be able to play with them very often,” Wyatt answered without a glance her way.
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s what Mr. Melbourne said last night at supper, at the hotel, don’t you remember?”
“Well,” she started, giving herself time to answer, “perhaps Kade and Wiley appear a bit wild at times, much like you two, because they are cooped up in the hotel most of the time. Maybe we could ask their father if they could come over to our house, and the four of you could play outside.”
“That would be fun,” Rhett answered. “We could show them where Brett buries the fish guts. I bet they’d like that. Don’t you think?”
Knowing little boys as well as she did, Fiona laughed a little inside. “Yes, I think they would like that.” Somewhere deep inside her, a place she kept trying not to respond to, she knew Brett would like that too. He’d enjoy watching the boys run around exploring things and, well, just being little boys. She kept trying to keep all that hidden because there wasn’t anything she could do about Josiah being so different from Brett. Or how she kept questioning her ability to marry Josiah. It had all seemed so easy back in Ohio.
Maybe not easy, but her only option. And now that she’d made the commitment, she had to follow through with it. She certainly didn’t have the funds to repay Josiah for the money he’d already spent on her and the boys. Furthermore, despite all her misgivings, she still didn’t have another option. From her understanding, there were plenty of other men who wanted a wife, but that didn’t mean any of them would want her. Or her sons.
Winning the Mail-Order Bride Page 10