Suffrage and Suitors

by Noelle, Jo

  Suffrage and Suitors

  Jo Noelle

  Suffrage and Suitors: A Cowboys and Angels Romance

  Visit Jo's site at http://JoNoelle.com or connect with us on Facebook @JoNoelle.

  Copyright © 2018 by Jo Noelle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Little Box Press LLC is the exclusive publisher.

  * * *

  The events, names, and characters are fictitious, and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Edwin

  2. Millie

  3. Edwin

  4. Millie

  5. Edwin

  6. Millie

  7. Edwin

  8. Millie

  9. Edwin

  10. Millie

  11. Edwin

  12. Millie

  13. Edwin

  About the Author

  Cowboys and Angels

  Also by Jo Noelle

  Edwin

  Edwin McRae was losing his mind. Twice in so many days, he’d mistaken seeing his mam, rest her soul, on the streets of Creede, Colorado, where she had never stepped foot in her life or anywhere else outside of Scotland.

  Maybe he was sick and needed to stay in bed that day. Not really an option, but he pulled the patchwork quilt up to his chin. The night before, he’d awakened from a dream where Mam had talked to him. He hadn’t understood a word she’d said. It was as if his ears were underwater. He strained to listen, but the words were just out of his hearing though she seemed intent on repeating them several times in increasing volume. If the size of her mouth was any indication, by the final time, she was yelling at the top of her temper.

  He was glad it was just his temporary insanity speaking. It was the end of August, near the anniversary of her death ten years ago. That must have been what made his brain serve up the hallucinations.

  Although he’d awakened late after the fitful night, in his groggy state, he dressed and crossed the short distance between his back door and what would soon be his new restaurant. He’d simply called his old one Edwin’s Restaurant. It was a rickety building thrown together in a hurry to get his business started. It kept the rain and snow off his customers while they ate, at least. It had given him a sense of purpose and plenty to do with his time instead of thinking about being alone.

  This one was a palace by comparison. It needed a new name. Since he and Hugh Fontaine were building this together, it would need to represent both businesses—his restaurant and Hugh’s boarding house on the two floors above the ground level. They’d decided on Hearth and Home.

  Spitz followed at his side. Edwin wondered if the dog had been someone’s pet for long—he seemed well trained. The dog had just showed up a couple of months ago and never left. He’d given the dog a name just to have something to call the mutt, and it fit since every time the dog barked, howled, or sneezed, it also spit.

  As Edwin strolled around the building, he noted the workmanship—sturdy walls, beautiful features like the small balconies off the upstairs rooms, quality materials, and lots of windows. The full length of the front had a covered veranda. He was proud to be the owner, or part owner, of such a fine building.

  When he entered, Spitz curled up on the boardwalk outside. Edwin walked on the two-by-fours placed like trails where the floor should be. He pivoted around, looking at the walls of his new restaurant. He could imagine the tables and chairs that weren’t there yet. And the gingham cloths covering them—also not there. He even pictured a polished solid oak floor—again, not there. He could feel the energy of a room full of customers as he continued surveying the space. The most delightful part of the scene was Millie cooking and serving beside him. He could almost hear her softly humming hymns as she measured or mixed or baked. She did it unconsciously, and he found he liked it very much.

  He faced the kitchen door and gasped. The shadowy outline of a woman in a green dress and white apron filled the lighted opening. A cold sweat flashed across his shoulders and back. He’d have sworn it was his mam by the height and shape. He squeezed his eyes shut. Not again. Then he reopened them. No one was there. His breath staggered out.

  “We have a bit of a problem,” a voice called behind him.

  Edwin flinched, then turned to see Sterling McCormick and Michael Turley entering. The men had been working on the building for a few months. Sterling had several building projects around town, and Michael had started worked for him this past spring when he and his family moved in.

  “I thought you were supposed to lay flooring this week,” Edwin said to McCormick. Edwin shoved his hands into his front pockets to stop the shaking. It had been his imagination—Mam wasn’t really there.

  “I picked up the planks for the floor from this morning’s train. They sent enough wood, but more than half of it was pine and the rest was oak.” The builder pointed to the wood in the far corner. “As soon as I get more oak, Michael will put it all down. Then it’ll be ready to move your furniture in.”

  Edwin was anxious to get things finished and settled, but he knew Sterling was an honest man, and Michael did honest work, no lazing about for him. He’d just hope it was soon.

  “Good morning, Michael,” Edwin called. “I’m glad we had some work for you today. Hope we have more before night.”

  “I’ll be here when you’re ready,” Michael replied, moving to the wood to get started with what they had.

  “How are your homesteads coming along out in Turleyville? What do you have, five or six?” Edwin asked.

  “Eight, now that my sisters Donella and Diane turned twenty-one, and each of them filed last month.” Michael moved and sorted the planks.

  Sterling blew out a slow whistle. “That’s a lot of homes to build.”

  “Eli’s will be finished soon,” Michael replied. “Mine will be done before the hard part of winter. Then we’ll start on the others. We’ve got plenty of time, though. It’ll work out.”

  “It will for sure.” Edwin turned to Sterling. “How much longer will it be to finish up here?” Cooking out of his home, as he had been for months, had been difficult, and he wanted to move that operation into the spacious kitchen he’d have here.

  “Arthur wired the lumberyard in Del Norte to send the rest of the wood on the evening train. If I get what I need, we’ll put that down tomorrow and maybe a couple of days after that. We have enough to do the kitchen and most of the dining room by the end of today. Tomorrow, we’ll lay the rest of the dining room and do the stairs.”

  “And if you don’t get the rest of the oak?” Edwin wondered if it would work to put the pine in the upper floors. He’d have to talk to Hugh. It would save a wee bit of money and would get the job done sooner. For sure, he wanted this completed before the first snow flew, and that was as early as September some years.

  “If the lumberyard didn’t mistakenly load the oak, and they’re out of it, it could be a while.”

  Behind Sterling’s left shoulder, Edwin saw Millie. She was standing on the boardwalk outside the front door scratching Spitz with the toe of her shoe. Oh, but she was a bonny sight for his eyes. She was a lovely reminder of the old country with ginger hair, icy-blue eyes, and a bit o’ trouble all wrapped in the plaid. Aye. She was a corker, all right.

  She leaned inside. “Yoo-hoo. Can I interest either of you in trying a new cookie?”

  Sterling snatched the hat from his head and made a little bow in her direction. “Morning, ma’am.”

  Edwin
pulled his off too, but only so he didn’t look the fool next to the slicker. He didn’t think Millie was impressed by such things.

  The planks creaked as she walked along them. A wicker basket covered by an embroidered towel was slung over her forearm. “They’re applesauce-molasses bars—sweet enough to melt your cares away.” She stopped by the men and uncovered the cookies.

  The delicious smell traveled right to Edwin’s nose. If they tasted half as good as they smelled, Millie had another winner. He didn’t doubt she did. Everything she touched in the kitchen became delicious. If he made a stew, it was nothing special, but it would fill a belly. If she tasted it and doctored it a little with a spice or two, men lined up to buy second and third helpings.

  “Give them a try and tell me what you think,” she said, fishing out the first bar.

  Off to the side behind Millie, Edwin saw his mam. He squinted, but the woman was still there. The plaid shawl she always wore was draped over her head and held with a clasp at her throat with the rest falling over her shoulders. She raised both hands above her head and pointed down toward Millie. Her words were garbled, and Edwin tried to puzzle them out. Then she put her hands to her chest and pumped them out and back several times. Edwin had no idea what was happening. She slapped her hand to her forehead, shook her head, and then disappeared.

  He would not believe what he thought he saw. In fact, he kept repeating that in his mind.

  “Does that mean you don’t want one, Edwin?” Millie said. He realized he was shaking his head as she held a cookie toward him, and he hadn’t taken it from her yet.

  He shook his head again, this time to clear it. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I’ll try a cookie.” He took a bite and chewed the delectable treat slowly. He expected the taste of cinnamon, but there was something unexpected in the cookie too. He didn’t know what it was—just a dash of something tart beneath the sweet. He kept taking small bites, trying to discover her secret. Millie had a gift like his mam had. She taught him to cook, but he lacked her sense of artistry about it.

  Worry nudged at him. He peered into the darkened corners of the room, looking for—he didn’t know who or didn’t want to say so, anyway. What was happening to him? He fanned his hat across his face. He couldn’t explain what he thought he saw. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t sick or fevered. Why was he hallucinating about his mam, rest her soul?

  “Is there something strange in these cookies?” he asked, but he’d already hallucinated twice today and that was before the first bite—he couldn’t blame the cookie.

  “It’s just a new recipe,” Millie replied. A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. She turned her gaze to the contractor. Did she wonder if the other man thought the cookies were strange too?

  Edwin hadn’t meant that though he guessed it could’ve sounded that way.

  Sterling McCormick had a sappy look on his face. “Is that a new bonnet, Miss Bing?”

  Millie’s eyes brightened, and a smile replaced the worried expression she’d born a moment ago. Edwin thought she even blushed.

  “It looks real nice.” Sterling grinned like a twelve-year-old with infatuation plastered across his face. The contractor took another bite of the bar. “You make delicious cookies, Miss Bing. I don’t think I’ve had better in all my life. The whole town is looking forward to your cooking when this restaurant opens.”

  The man’s words rubbed across Edwin like sandpaper. “She knows that,” Edwin snapped.

  Millie seemed to ignore Edwin and his comment. “Thank you, Mr. McCormick. What will you be working on today?”

  “The floors, miss. And then the stair treads and the floors upstairs in the boarding rooms. It won’t be long now until this place opens for business.”

  Irritation grew inside Edwin. “It will be if you don’t stop jawing. Haven’t you got some oak to lay down or a wall to put up?”

  Millie flashed him a sour look, then asked Sterling, “What will your next project be? Would you be stayin’ in Creede for a space? You’re just the kind of folks we need here.”

  Edwin only needed him for one thing right now. Then he could take his leave of Creede as far as Edwin was concerned. While he listened, he couldn’t help but wonder why Millie was asking. His dark mood pricked his conscience. He’d liked the man fine until a couple of minutes ago—before Millie walked in. Was she interested in McCormick? Nah. He couldn’t imagine that. Still, she seemed to be enjoying his conversation and especially his compliments of her cookies and her new bonnet.

  He wouldn’t allow this newcomer to turn her head. His heart hammered. He’d say something too. “Is that a new . . . basket you have there, Millie?” Now what? He couldn’t say it looked nice. Complimenting a basket wouldn’t flatter her.

  Millie looked at Edwin with a confused expression. He wasn’t surprised. He’d never been good at that sort of thing, but right now, he wished he was. Her eyes squinted a bit in his direction, but before she said anything, Hugh and Julianne Fontaine entered.

  Edwin was grateful for the business proposition Hugh had made a few months ago. The Fontaines wanted to move to Creede to open a boarding house. Edwin owned land not far from the train station. They had agreed that if Edwin put up the land, Hugh would front the money needed to construct the building. Then when Edwin’s lawsuit against Archie for blowing up his place was completed, Edwin could settle up with Hugh to make them even partners. However, the trial had been going on a little longer than the construction and wasn’t settled yet. Edwin still had to hope.

  Julianne tiptoed across the wooden planks, and Hugh followed behind her with Baby Grace in his arms.

  “I came to see the flooring, but it seems we might be early.” Grace cooed at Hugh as he spoke. “Yes, pretty girl, I’m always talking to you too.” The child lifted her palm to Hugh’s mouth while he spoke, and Hugh kissed her fingers.

  Edwin watched the baby and felt a note of regret for things he’d missed in his life though it couldn’t be helped. He figured that he, Hugh, and Sterling were all about thirty or a bit more. Hugh was the only one starting a family. Then he noticed that Sterling’s attention only veered from Millie long enough to make quick bows toward Julianne and Hugh. The man was insufferable this morning.

  Mr. McCormick again pointed toward Michael Turley and the pile of wood. “There was a mix-up with the order, so we only got a portion of what we need.”

  Under his breath, Edwin grumbled, “What? You don’t want to compliment Julianne’s bonnet too?”

  Millie

  Chapter 2: Millie

  Millie plotted to get Julianne out of the building. She had something urgent to talk with her about. But how? She’d just gotten there. Hmm. “Julianne, let’s give the men a chance to talk about the construction. Can you come with me to the dry goods store to drop off my list?” She’d have to write a quick list when she got to the store.

  She was always in need of spices. She knitted socks, scarves, and mittens as if her needles burned with righteous fury. The money she made from those items bought spices, lovely spices, treasures from the Orient or India or Africa. If her brother knew the price of those little tin boxes she stacked neatly in her carpetbag, he might guilt her into selling them and giving the money to the poor. It was her one indulgence, and it fed the poor she thought with a defiant nod. After all, in Genesis, God said He gave mankind every herb bearing seed. She was testifying to God’s goodness whenever she used them. So there.

  Everything she made had a little pinch of the world stirred into it to delight those around her. It was a gift of joy she could give in secret. In fleeting moments when she was being completely honest, she knew she coveted those tins. At night, she would open a box and sniff the contents. She tried to imagine how she might use them in a surprising way. Cinnamon was common in an apple pie, but delightful on fried chicken. Gravy was a pale complement to fried potatoes, but with a little turmeric added, it became the star of the plate, bringing customers back again and again.


  She’d been saving up on her tab at the Crowthers’ store to buy some cardamom. She needed more nutmeg and cloves as well. There—she hadn’t lied when she’d said she had a list to buy.

  Julianne nodded, reading for the baby. “I have a list too. We’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said to Hugh.

  No sooner was Grace in Julianne’s arms than Millie reached out to the baby. “Come see Aunt Millie, little precious.” Julianne surrendered the child to her.

  When they left the building, Millie adjusted Grace’s bonnet and held her to her shoulder. “Thank you. I do love holding her, and I never get to.”

  Julianne laughed at that. “You mean you never get to hold her more than seven days every week.”

  “Well, you may be right, but I love her tender smiles.” Millie cuddled her while they walked, “And her sweet voice.” The child seemed to understand and cooed back at Millie as she spoke, warming Millie’s heart. If she wouldn’t have the chance to marry, she would find a little piece of that happiness sharing in Julianne’s joy in raising Grace. She’d had hopes that Callum would marry, but he was dedicated to his ministry—“married to the church” as he put it.

  Millie switched Grace back up to her shoulder. “It’s really too bad she keeps growing. One day, she’ll be too large to carry.” What a truly sad thought. Millie wondered when that would happen. She supposed that it would be sometime soon after Grace learned to walk.

  “I could eat you up,” Millie teased the baby and nuzzled her neck.

  Millie and Julianne continued south on Main Street as Julianne said, “Have you ever thought about Edwin?”