by Kit Morgan
“Hotel?”
“You didn’t see it?” He turned to face her. “How could you have missed the Van Cleet Hotel? It’s huge ... well, by Clear Creek’s standards, anyway.”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall it.”
“Oh, Harrison and Colin must have left by the south road going out of town. The hotel is at the north end.”
She nodded and looked away. “Where is your farm?”
“My farm? Oh ... yes, my farm!” Great Scott, he was stammering? “It’s about a mile out of town. Not far.”
“And the ... the house? You have a house, I presume.”
He looked at her. She was still staring at nothing, or maybe everything ... her eyes downcast. “I’ve just finished building a pretty little house. Well, maybe not so little - it’s got three bedrooms.”
“Three?”
He didn’t say anything, choosing instead to wait until she looked at him. She did – and immediately he had to fight an urge to look away. “I built it with three on account of ... on account of I’m hoping to have children ... someday.”
She swallowed hard. “I see.”
“I painted it yellow. Paint cost a might much, but women generally like yellow, don’t they?” Before he knew it, he had leaned toward her.
She looked at him, her eyes widening at his slow advance. “Yes, I dare say they do,” she said softly.
“Well, I’m glad to see the two of you are getting along,” Belle blurted from the other end of the porch. August’s head snapped up. She stood against the porch rail, smiling and fanning herself. “Sure is warm out tonight, don’t you think?” she asked.
August drew back from Miss Red and stared at Belle. Disappointment sunk into his gut, and he didn’t know why. It’s not like he was about to kiss her or anything. Or was he? “Not as hot as July,” he drawled.
Belle walked across the porch to join them. “No, but it will be.” She stopped and looked happily at them both. “Supper’s ready.”
August looked at her, then at Miss Red. It was the moment of reckoning. If he was smart, he’d excuse himself and flee back to his farm. If he went in there, if he sat at that table, he’d sink himself lower into the pit of future matrimony with this poor woman, very beautiful but completely unsuited for life in the West. Harrison and Colin would be watching him like a hawk. This was their relative after all, and he knew well how protective the Cooke men were of their women, family members or no.
Before he knew it, he’d helped Miss Red up from the porch swing and held out his arm to her, as if another part of him was controlling his actions. She stared back. A weak, “Shall we?” escaped him of its own accord, and his feet began to move as Belle turned and headed for the front door.
He felt Miss Red’s hand on his arm, could smell the scent of lemons and grass, and knew that he was making a huge, huge mistake. But the lonely side of him would spare him no quarter.
Unable to fight it, August escorted his mail-order bride to dinner.
Four
Penelope had to fight to keep her heart from leaping through her chest! She’d been annoyed with herself after her (latest) fainting spell, and had hidden herself upstairs to get over her embarrassment. But when she came downstairs, sat on the porch swing, and got her first real good look at August Bennett, she was dumbstruck. He had to be one of the handsomest men she had ever seen!
But it wasn’t his looks that attracted her, so much as his presence. He was tough and rugged, so unlike the effete, pampered suitors she’d had off and on during her last few seasons in London. Seasons long since past, no less.
She had officially been “put on the shelf” and was just getting used to the idea of spinsterhood when the Duke of Stantham approached her mother with the idea of sending Penelope and her sisters to America to be wed. Of course, Mother had jumped at the chance to marry off her three daughters, and so here they were. And there was no going back.
Penelope studied Mr. Bennett from across the dining room table. His jaw was square, his hair dark and his eyes ... they were such an inky blue they looked like sapphires. His face was tanned from time spent out in the sun, and his teeth were stark white against his bronzed skin.
She tried to still the beating of her heart and gather her senses. If she was to marry this man, she’d better pull together and act the proper lady. He seemed amiable enough, and wasn’t as crude as she thought he might be considering their first meeting.
But was he interested in marrying her? She got the distinct feeling earlier that he wasn’t. He looked as if he had been about to depart when she called to him on the front porch, and perhaps he’d only made up his mind to stay at the last minute.
“How’s the farm coming along, August? You still considering buying some stock?” Colin asked.
August looked at him, then Penelope, before he spoke. “Yes, I’m still interested.”
“What else do you need out there?” Harrison then asked.
“I want to get a few chickens.”
“The Turners got some chickens they’re trying to get rid of.”
“One at any rate ...” Colin said under his breath.
“What was that?” August asked.
Colin grimaced. “Oh ... yes, they do have a chicken they’d like to ah ... sell. A rooster, I believe.”
“I could do with a rooster and a few more hens,” August told him.
“Chickens?” Penelope said absently. A quaint picture of gathering eggs ran through her mind, and she somehow found the thought romantic. She had no idea why, however. Peculiar.
She looked at August, but he had turned in his chair to speak with Colin. They were speaking of different kinds of livestock and farm implements (at least she assumed they were farm implements) and other “farm-type” things
“Do roosters eat spiders?” Constance blurted. Good question. Penelope’s eyes locked on the men, along with those of her sisters, as they waited for the answer.
“Of course.” Colin said.
“Mr. Bennett,” Penelope said. “By all means, buy this rooster.”
August’s eyes met hers. “Consider it done.”
Penelope stared at him, stunned at her own action. She felt that, by voicing her opinion pertaining to the purchase of a chicken, she had just committed herself to this man, to his life out here in the wilderness. But could she live up to everything expected of a farmer’s wife?
“The Whites’ dog just had puppies,” Sadie volunteered. “You should have a dog out at your place if you don’t already have one.”
Penelope looked from Sadie to August, who made quite a show of swinging his head around to face her. “Well?” he asked. “Would you like a dog?”
She swallowed hard. “A ... a dog.” Images of Esmeralda, the family corgi, flashed through her mind. “What breed of dog?”
“I don’t know - frankly, I don’t think the Whites know either,” he answered. “A mutt, I guess. As long as it barks and keeps the coyotes away from the stock, I’m happy.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “Coyotes?”
“Oh, I know what those are!” Constance announced. “Remember we heard them several nights during our journey here.”
August stared at her, then the other two. “Just how did you get here, anyway? It must have taken forever.”
“We came by way of ship from Southampton to your New Orleans,” Penelope answered. “Then by rail to ... St. Joseph, Missouri, I believe. From there we took the stage.”
August sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. “Alone?”
“Oh, no,” Eloise said. “Not alone – we had Mr. Thompson with us. Until he got shot, that is.”
“Shot?!” August said and sat up again. “What do you mean, shot?”
“Mr. Thompson was hired by His Grace ... the Duke, Duncan Cooke, to accompany us.” Penelope explained. “He was to be our protection. It was a shame he couldn’t be counted upon to do as good a job for himself.”
August looked to Colin and Harrison for confirmation. They
nodded before looking solemnly at the women sitting across the table from them.
“You three have had quite an adventure, then. I guess you’ve dealt with a lot more than a spider these last months. I apologize if I’ve ... misjudged you.” He turned to Colin. “Tell Mr. Turner I’ll take that rooster, and let Mr. White know my wife wants a puppy.”
Penelope gasped as he pointed his gaze at her. “I don’t know of anyone with a new batch of kittens, so you might have to wait on that. In the meantime, we’d best pay a visit to Preacher Jo, and see about ... getting married.”
* * *
There, he’d said it. Marriage. He wasn’t sure if it was the news of their escort Mr. Thompson being shot during their travels, or knowing they’d been on a ship, then a train, then a stagecoach for months on end. Either one would take a lot out of a woman, any woman. He’d best get it in his head that he’d sent away for a bride, and now she was here, and he had a responsibility to be there for her. Besides, anyone who looked as good as Miss Red and her sisters did after all that time in transit deserved a little respect, and she now had his. So what if she couldn’t cook or sew yet? She certainly could learn, couldn’t she? And until then, she’d definitely seemed able to warm his bed ...
“That was a mighty fine meal, Mrs. Cooke,” August told Sadie. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Bennett – and Miss Sayer’s too, I’m sure.” She looked at Penelope, who smiled and blushed.
August froze. He’d not seen her blush before, and it did something to him, enough to make his mouth curve up into a smile. “I’ll be back in the morning, if that’s all right with you?”
He was looking at Miss Red when he said it, but Sadie answered. “Of course it is. I can bring Miss Sayer to town if you prefer.”
August shook himself and looked at her. “Oh, yes, of course. Either way works for me, just so long as I have the chance to speak to Preacher Jo and his wife Annie about the wedding. I’ve no more pressing business than that.”
Sadie looked between him and Miss Red, and he caught the mischievous smile on her face out the corner of his eye. “Yes, I’m sure they’ll want to help you with that,” she said.
Belle giggled at the other end of the table. The sound pulled August’s attention away from Miss Red long enough to realize he’d been staring at her like a lovesick puppy. What was wrong with him all of a sudden? Earlier that afternoon, he had been ready to forget about this mail-order bride business and walk – no, gallop – away from the whole thing. Now he discovered he couldn’t wait until tomorrow when he had this woman in front of the preacher, even if only to make the arrangements.
“Penelope,” Belle said as she looked at her. “Did you bring a wedding dress?”
“No,” she answered. “We each had one, but they were lost.”
“Lost?” August said in alarm. “What happened?” For some reason the thought of ill-fated events his Miss Red and her sisters may have suffered along their journey angered him.
“Never mind that – it is of no importance,” Miss Red told him. “The fact remains that we now have none.”
She was hiding something, he could tell. His jaw locked as he made up his mind to find out what. He found he wanted her to trust him, and didn’t want her hiding things from him.
“The ladies’ sewing circle has been needing a few new projects,” Sadie began. “I think we just found them some. Three wedding dresses it is, then. Penelope, yours will be the first. Now we definitely need to make a trip to town tomorrow to put the word out. With all of us working on it, you should have a dress by the end of the week, and can get married properly attired.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said. “That’s very kind.”
“Yes, thank you.” Eloise added. She then blushed. “When will Constance and I get to meet our grooms?”
Sadie smiled. “Soon enough. Right now, let’s get your sister’s dress in order. Constance, your gentleman is still working on his house, and I can’t see you marrying him and sleeping outdoors. Eloise, yours is also finishing up a few things before he’s ready. Meeting you today would have only distracted them.”
“What kind of things?” Eloise asked. “For goodness’ sake, after the length of time it took us to get here, you’d think they’d all be ready.”
“Out here on the prairie, delays happen,” Sadie explained. “But don’t worry, you’ll all be married to your prospective grooms soon enough.”
“I’d just like to meet mine,” Constance mumbled. “Penelope will be married before you know it, and where will that leave Eloise and I?”
“Married,” Belle said. “Just not all at the same time. That’s how we originally planned it – we can’t very well chaperone all of you at once. And even so, you can’t get married without a proper dress or, like Sadie said, a proper place to live. “We’ll get your sister’s done, then start on the both of yours.”
Penelope ignored their conversation – she was too busy drinking August in with her eyes. And ears – she liked hearing his voice; it had a gravelly quality to it. She was hoping to hear it one last time before he left.
She wasn’t disappointed. He looked right at her and said, “Until tomorrow then, Miss Sayer.” He stood, shook hands with Colin and Harrison, and without another word, left the dining parlor.
“My, people certainly come and go as they please here,” Eloise commented just as the front door shut behind August.
“I’m afraid there isn’t any butler to announce anyone’s comings and goings,” Belle said with a smile. “But you’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”
“What do you think of Mr. Bennett, Penelope?” Constance asked out of the blue.
Penelope froze. What was she to tell them? Oh yes! He’s very attractive, and has the nicest ... She blushed a deep red.
“Penelope?” someone asked.
“Hands!” she finished her thought, then realized she hadn’t spoken the rest of it.
“Hands?” Constance asked. “What are you talking about?”
Sadie giggled. “I think I’d better go check on the baby.” She got up from the table and left.
“And I think we’d better clear the table and see to the dishes,” added Belle.
That snapped Penelope out of her blush-induced thoughts. “Dishes?”
“Of course,” Belle said. “You don’t think they’re going to wash themselves, do you?”
Penelope glanced to her sisters, who sat with the same look of horror on their faces. Belle stood, hands on hips. “Now don’t tell me none of you have ever washed a single dish?”
Colin snorted and got up from the table. “Good luck, cousins. You’re going to need it.”
Penelope looked at him aghast. “Surely you don’t expect us to ...”
“Oh yes, I certainly do!” Belle said then turned to her husband. “I must say, Colin, but your cousins have a lot to learn.”
“And who better to teach them but you?” he told her with a smirk.
“And you,” she huffed as she reached over and grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s go.”
“Now wait a minute!” He tried to get away, but she held him fast.
“Oh no, you don’t! They need to see that everyone in this house does their fair share, including you!”
“What about Harrison? How come he isn’t being dragged into this?”
Harrison sat with a broad grin as he watched Belle pull Colin toward the hall. “I’m on baby duty,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Colin whined. “Sadie’s the one upstairs!”
“I have the late shift.” He held up his hands in innocence.
“The baby sleeps through the night,” Colin pointed out from the hall.
“I’m the backup in case she wakes up,” Harrison called after him as Colin disappeared from sight. He looked to his cousins who hadn’t budged. He folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. “Ladies, it might comfort you to know that men are capable of doing the dishes.”
“Good,
” Constance said. “Better him than us. I hear the water does terrible things to one’s skin.”
Harrison chuckled. “There are far worse things than dishes, dear one.”
“Such as?” Eloise asked.
“Such as having to bring in wood for the fires.” Harrison leaned toward them. “And the woodpile is chock full of ... spiders.”
All three paled at his words.
“Sisters,” Penelope said nervously. “I do believe it’s time we learned to ...” She shuddered. “... scrub the dishes.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Constance said as Eloise nodded vigorously. They got up and hurried into the kitchen as fast as propriety would allow, leaving Harrison to chuckle in their wake.
* * *
“He’s quite handsome, you know,” Constance whispered later that night. They were in their room; the lamp turned down over an hour ago. “I think the two of you will make a lovely match.”
“Constance, I have only just met the man. How can you say that?” Penelope whispered back over Eloise’s soft snoring.
“I have an inkling.”
“You always have an inkling.” Penelope rolled her eyes
“Yes, but this one makes me go all tingly. I know he thinks you’re quite fetching.”
Penelope said nothing. She never thought of herself as any sort of great beauty. Of the three, she always viewed Constance as the gem among them. So did quite a few of London’s eligible bachelors. But not even her sister’s pretty face and delicate features could convince would-be suitors to pursue her once they found out she carried the Sayer name. A name synonymous with extreme pain and near-death.
“Penelope? Don’t you agree?” Constance whispered, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Agree to what?”
“That Mr. Bennett finds you attractive?”
“How does one know when a man such as Mr. Bennett is attracted to one such as myself? The men here are hardly gentlemen.”
“No, they’re not. They’re cowboys and ranchers and lawmen and ...”