Emer did her best to keep a serious expression on her face. “I take it you do not see Miss Hawthorn as the woman for you?”
Paul blushed again, his hat going from one hand to the other so quickly Emer was tempted to take it from him. “No, Mrs.—Miss Emer, I don’t. I usually do what my ma says, but I can’t marry Miss Hawthorn. I won’t.”
“What will your ma say when you tell her you found someone else to marry?”
“She won’t be happy.”
“Is there anything else you would like to put in your letter?”
“I’d like children. A boy to take after me.”
Emer smiled to herself as the man in front of her found an interesting spot on the floor. Despite her being a married, pregnant woman and a nurse, he couldn’t look at her while talking about children. It would need a special type of woman to bring out this shy, sensitive man.
“Paul, why don’t I write for you? I’ll talk to my sister, and between us, we will come up with a letter for you. All you have to do is sign your name.”
Paul jumped from his chair, reminding Emer of an overeager dog. “That would be just fine, Miss Emer. Thank you kindly. Will I call back tomorrow?” His brown eyes widened with hope.
“Give me a couple of days. These things take time. It’s a big decision to marry someone you don’t know. Wise to give it some thought.”
“Miss Emer, you won’t go telling anyone about this, will you?” Paul looked down at the hat in his hands. “I don’t want no one laughing at me. I would prefer Ma don’t hear about it, neither. She has a way of knowing what goes on in Clover Springs.”
Emer resisted the urge to touch his arm. She was a married woman now, and they didn’t go around touching men. He wasn’t a child who needed comforting. He was a grown man regardless of his youthful looks and big brown eyes.
“Paul, you don’t need to worry about anything. I will have to tell my friends since they know more people in Boston. And Lawrence, but he won’t say anything. Call back the next time you’re in town.”
“Thank you, Miss Emer. Your husband is a lucky man.”
Emer’s heart fluttered as Lawrence walked into the clinic. “I am a very lucky man.”
Even after months of marriage, he had the ability to set her body on fire with a single look. She smiled at him lovingly as he closed the clinic door behind Paul.
Emer returned Lawrence’s kiss before pulling away. “I just need to clear away these tea things. Then I’ll get my bonnet and shawl and be right with you.”
Lawrence took two cookies. “Mmm, your sister knows how to bake.”
“How did you know they were Sorcha’s?”
“Saw her coming in with a basket. My nose followed the scent of cookies.”
Emer pretended to pout. “Here I was thinking I was the main attraction. All the time you were thinking with your stomach.”
“It’s not my stomach I think with when you are near, my darling little temptress.”
“Lawrence. Someone might hear you.”
Lawrence raised an eyebrow as he looked around the empty office.
“What did Kelley want? He seemed very happy when he was leaving here.”
“Jealous?”
Emer gasped and giggled as Lawrence pulled her toward him.
“Not a bit. I know you are a one-man woman.”
Emer kissed him on the cheek. “You say the nicest things. Paul Kelley wants to get married.”
“Doesn’t he know you are already taken?”
“Stop teasing, Lawrence. I’m serious. His ma threatened to marry him to some Miss Hawthorn. I don’t think I ever met the lady.” She glanced at her husband, who looked as if he was choking. His face changed from red to purple. “What? Lawrence, have some water. Was it the cookie? Are you all right?”
Lawrence burst out laughing, causing Emer to hit him. “Sorry, darling, but Miss Hawthorn? She has to be ten years older than Kelley. She looks it, too, with her beaky nose, scrawny neck and—”
“The poor woman. Don’t talk about people like that. It makes you sound like your mother.” Emer scolded him, but his comments explained Paul’s desire to find a mail order bride. She wondered if Sorcha had any more friends in Boston. Paul deserved to find happiness. Emer looked at Lawrence, who still had a silly smirk on his face. She loved him so much she had to pinch herself sometimes. It was hard to believe this sort of happiness could last. Taking his arm, they walked out into the glorious sunshine. Emer locked the door behind her.
Chapter 3
Boston
The smoke and smell of unwashed bodies made Laura’s eyes sting, but still she smiled. The room was almost full with paying customers. Johnny would be pleased, so hopefully he would be in a good mood later.
She moved from table to table, careful not to give any of the men individual attention. Johnny liked her to be visible, but he got jealous if she looked at another man. It was difficult not to do, given the place was swarming with men of all shapes and sizes. Even though all the working girls were downstairs, there simply weren’t enough women to go around.
She smiled at a man who tried to put his arm around her, as her foot stomped on his. He howled as she apologized.
“Please forgive me. I didn’t see your foot there,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at the man as he hobbled off. She caught the warning glance from Wilma, but she didn’t care. She was fed up with this life. Johnny had told her he would rather kill her than let her go, but even that threat had lost its power. She simply didn’t care anymore. Life couldn’t be worse than it was now.
Wilma’s pinch didn’t hurt, but it was enough to get her attention. “Johnny’s called you twice. I warned you earlier not to annoy him. Not tonight,” Wilma hissed through her smile.
Laura walked slowly over to Johnny.
“You took your time, darling.” His eyes gleamed with anger, but as she got closer, she could see the lust, too. She did her best to hide the shiver of revulsion.
“It takes time to dress properly, Johnny. I didn’t want to tear your beautiful gift.”
He seemed slightly mollified at her answer before he took her arm and led her to one of the card tables. He sat while she rested her arm across his shoulders, the position arranged to display her cleavage to the best advantage. It worked, too, given the stares of the other cardholders. Shame engulfed her. She tried to adjust her dress, but a steely look from Johnny stopped her. His eyes held a promise that made her mouth run dry. Wilma was right; she’d have to be more careful than usual tonight.
Looking at the cards in his hand, she tapped the agreed code on his shoulder. She smiled at the other players, playing the part of the fancy girlfriend to the hilt. Only when he had played as she instructed did she allow her gaze to wander over the room. It still amazed her after all these months the number of men willing to bet their futures on the turn of a card. When would they learn the house always won?
As if to contradict her thoughts, a man sitting at a table on the other side of the room yelled his joy at winning his hand. Walk away now while you still have the cash. But she knew he wouldn’t. She could see it from the way his gaze took in the amount of cash being played for at the next table.
At first, she hadn’t seen the system Johnny used, but after all these months, it was so obvious. He let the new customers win small hands. Sometimes they won for two or three games in a row. Only once they were convinced they were on a winning streak did they throw caution to the wind and move to the tables where the prizes were higher. There, they might once again win the first or second hand.
Depending on the customers and Johnny’s mood, they may even finish the night with more money than they started. But in the end, they always lost. Just as she had done. But they only lost money, not their dignity or their life.
“Lee, can you get me a drink?” Laura’s heart almost burst out of her chest. She hadn’t been paying attention, so she had no idea how to answer Johnny. Her eyes darted left and right, but the players were all l
ooking at Johnny, waiting for his next move. He stared up at her, her clammy palms leaving a trace of damp on his shirt.
“Whiskey with water or on the rocks?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm while her insides rocked. He looked puzzled. Little wonder as she wasn’t using the code they had agreed on. Panicking, she played for time. Could she bluff? She decided to risk it.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot, you never take it neat this early.” Her voice shook as she spoke, her fingers seemingly massaging his shoulder in a loving embrace. She faltered over the code but got there in the end.
He sighed loudly, giving the impression to the other men he was sick of her forgetfulness, but his hard gaze told her she would pay later for her mistake. She prayed hard he would win, although she knew it was wrong to pray for a gambler. She was still sore from the last beating she’d received. She wasn’t ready for another one. She watched, biting her lips as he played the cards. And won! She was nearly sick with relief. She’d had a lucky escape. This time.
“You cheated. I had the best hand at the table. You dirty—”
An ear-shattering noise rang out through the room, the gambling atmosphere pierced by the bullet headed straight for Johnny. The shot hit him first, the bullet passing through him before hitting Laura. She stumbled back as her body exploded in pain. Around her, panic reigned. More shots were fired before the darkness descended. She was going to hell. The nuns had been right; she was doomed from the start.
“Looks like she’s coming around. Clear some space. Let her breathe.” Laura opened her eyes to stare at the bearded face of a police officer. She struggled to move away but couldn’t. “Lie still, miss. The doctor is coming. You’ve been shot. I’m afraid your friend is dead.”
Why was the man being so kind? The police weren’t usually nice to girls like her.
“Johnny,” she croaked before she passed out once more.
She woke up some time later in a hospital ward. “Where am I?” Laura asked, struggling to sit up, her shoulder aching badly.
“Boston City Hospital. You were shot. You were lucky to survive. A number of people died. The police want to speak to you.”
The nurse’s gruff tone belied her kind eyes.
“Was Wilma hurt? Is she here?”
“I don’t know the name of the girl who was killed. She had blonde hair. Was that your friend?”
Wilma was okay. Laura shrank lower in the bed. The police. What did they want with her? Who was the blonde girl? Marie or Maggie? Or it could be the new girl, Amy? She didn’t know any of them well, but that didn’t mean she would wish them dead.
What were the police going to do to her? Gambling wasn’t a crime, was it? No, but fixing games was likely to be. They had no proof, and with Johnny dead, nobody else would give her up. Would they?
She lay shaking with fear, waiting for the police to come back. Johnny was dead. Did that mean she was free? To do what? She couldn’t stay in Boston. She was a marked woman. Too many people knew she had worked in a saloon.
“Laura Murphy, I can’t believe it. What are you doing in the hospital?”
Laura knew the voice. He’d said Mass every week and visited the orphanage. She wanted to pull the covers over her head. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her legs trembled so much she assumed he could see the bed shaking. She kept her eyes shut, hoping he’d think she was asleep or passed out or maybe even dead.
A nurse walked by and she heard the priest speaking to her. Their whispers were too low for her to make out what they were saying. She didn’t dare open her eyes to have a look. Maybe he would leave.
The seat creaking beside the bed told her he’d stayed.
“Laura, what happened to you? They said you’d been shot.”
She ignored him.
“Laura, stop pretending you can’t hear me. I won’t leave until you talk to me. Didn’t I tell you to come find me if you ever needed help?”
She opened her eyes. “Yes, Father.”
“So why didn’t you come?”
“I couldn’t, Father. I am not the same girl who left the convent two years ago.”
“What happened to you? Last time I heard, you’d gotten a job in a store.”
“I met my husband in the store. Johnny Dawson. You heard of him?”
Father Molloy stared at her, the shock evident in his white face. “You married Johnny Dawson? He’s a murderer, not to mention a—”
“He was. He’s dead.” Laura fought to gain control of her voice. “I didn’t know, Father. He looked like a gentleman. We weren’t married long before I found out who he was. He wasn’t interested in a wife. I’m not even sure whether our marriage was real or not.”
“Oh, you poor child.” Father Molloy patted her hand, but Laura drew back from him.
“He wanted me because of my special talents.”
“You are a beautiful young lady, Laura.”
Laura laughed hysterically. “It wasn’t my looks he was interested in. Well, not really. He believed I was a witch. Maybe I am. I wished him dead, and now he is.”
Laura turned her head to let the tears soak into the pillow.
“Laura Murphy, you are no more a witch than I am. What nonsense.”
“Mother Superior said I was evil. She used to tie my hand behind my back as I wrote with my left hand. She said the mark—” Laura bit her tongue. She’d said too much already. She looked around fearfully, but it didn’t look like anyone had heard her.
“What mark?”
“I have the witch’s mark on my body. I can’t show you, Father. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Father Molloy didn’t flinch. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes. Laura wondered what he was thinking. Was he going to turn her over to the authorities? They still tried people for being witches, didn’t they? Johnny said they did. Of course, she knew about the Salem Witch Trials held nearly two hundred years ago, but she’d assumed they were history until he told her the last trial was in 1878. That was less than ten years ago. She could still hear his voice goading her. She had shared her story with him in the early days of their marriage after he’d seen the birthmark. She’d been so naive and trusting. She closed her eyes as his voice took over her mind. You could have been descended from one of those witches. It would explain the foreign writing on the note, not to mention your coloring and the mark.
“Laura, whatever happened to you, I am and will always be your friend. I will be back tomorrow. Try to get some rest.” Father Molloy stood.
Laura kept her eyes screwed shut. She wanted to ask him to find Wilma and help her, but what if her friend had taken the chance to escape? If she told the priest about her, he may tell the police. She didn’t want to get Wilma in trouble.
“I will pray for you, child.”
He could pray all he liked, but it wouldn’t do her any good. She was damned. She hadn’t much of a future being a poor orphan in Boston, but now was worse. She was a trollop. A… She couldn’t even bring herself to use that word. Tears fell from her closed eyes as she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 4
Boston
True to his word, Father Molloy came back to see Laura every day. She was recovering well. There was no sign of infection now that the bullet had been removed. Her arm still hurt, but it was bearable.
“What’s going to happen to me, Father? The nurse said the police want to speak to me.”
“They want to ask you a few questions about Johnny. Who his friends were, that sort of thing. He had a large amount of gold in the saloon safe.”
“I don’t know anything about the gold, Father. Johnny didn’t trust anyone with that. Not even Wilma.”
“Wilma?”
“Wilma was the woman who ran the saloon and looked after the wh…girls. She’s been with Johnny for years. Colored woman. He said she was a slave his pa rescued in the war.” Johnny had said a lot of things. Almost all of them lies. The only time he told the truth was when he threatened to punish her for wrongdoings. Then he ke
pt his word. Every time.
She stared at the priest, trying to work out if he had heard anything from Wilma. Her friend hadn’t been to the hospital. Laura knew she would have come if she was able or thought it safe to do so. She prayed she was all right. Coleman. What was he going to do now that Johnny was dead? Would he leave her alone?
“Father, I’m tired. Thank you for coming over to see me. I wouldn’t have blamed you for ignoring me.”
“Ignore you? Laura Murphy Dawson, you listen and you listen properly. You are not alone. You never were. When you are well enough to leave the hospital, you are coming home with me. I am going to send you to Clover Springs.”
Clover Springs. Where Sorcha and Mary were. Her friends. She let the hope live for a few seconds before it burned away. “No, Father, I am not going there. I am not the same girl I was when I knew Sorcha and Mary.”
“So what are you going to do? Your husband, as you well know, was involved in wicked dealings. Do you think his friends are going to let you walk around Boston free as a bird? Regardless of what you think, they will believe Johnny gave you information. He may have just signed your death warrant.”
“Good. I want to die. Goodbye, Father.”
“How dare you? You do not decide when you die.” She shrank further into the bed as the priest’s face glowed with anger. He took a deep breath before speaking in a softer tone. “Laura, life hasn’t been kind, but you have a chance to start over. Don’t throw that away. Clover Springs has been good for Sorcha, Mary, Katie and the rest of the people who have moved there. It will be good for you, too.”
He stood and patted the bed awkwardly. “Rest now and I will return tomorrow. I will accompany you to the police station, and then you will come home with me. I will send a telegram to Katie. The sooner we get you on a train to Colorado, the better.”
Laura: Clover Springs Mail Order Brides 5 Page 2