Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3)

by Carré White

  After I had paid for my things, I arranged to have them delivered to the apartment later. Not having eaten lunch yet, I was eager to grab a bite to at the restaurant. I wasted little time in hurrying over, although I had to be mindful of the carriages in the way. It being nearly lunchtime, the dining room bustled with people and talking, the occupants of Boot Creek having emerged from their shops and offices for the hour.

  Mrs. Hershey sat near a tall urn, which held sprigs of fake flowers. “It’s crowded,” I said, upon reaching her.

  “Yes it is.”

  Pulling out a chair, I sat across from her. “I haven’t much to say about Mr. Holter. I don’t think we’re suited in the least. He’s not someone I wish to marry.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought for certain you two might have something in common.”

  “Just that we’ve both lived on farms. That’s pretty much where the similarities end.”

  “Well, that’s neither here nor there, because I have an even better proposition for you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Mr. Kelly, who is the richest man in the Territory of New Mexico, has a ranch manager by the name of Chuck Brittle, who might just be perfect for you.”

  “I suppose.”

  “He’s available for supper tonight.”

  “A girl should never say no to supper.”

  “Be here at eight, and you’ll have a marvelous time.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You seem a little out of sorts. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  My belly had been behaving strangely, feeling as if the muscles tightened and released, over and over, and my back ached, but it wasn’t anything too troublesome. “I’m as good as can be expected for being this pregnant.”

  “That’s heartening. I know you wanted to find a husband before the baby came, so time is of the essence.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Pastor Kinsley, as he had just arrived with another gentlemen. Having seen me, he excused himself, striding over to us.

  “Good afternoon,” he said politely.

  I had been hesitant about returning to his room, because I had pried into his life enough already. He seemed rather upset earlier, and I thought it was best to keep my distance, although I longed to be near him.

  “Hello, Nicolas. Come sit down,” said Mrs. Hershey. “We’ve been discussing Celia’s love life.”

  “Which is nonexistent,” I added.

  His smile faltered. “You won’t let it rest.”

  “Certainly not. She’s in need of protection.”

  “Seems like she can take care of herself rather well.” He referred to the incident the night before.

  “No woman can take care of herself. She needs the guidance of a good husband and the comforts of a home. But I do believe I’ve finally hit on the perfect candidate. He was right before my eyes the entire time.”

  “And who, pray, is that?” A sardonic smile lingered around Nicolas’s mouth.

  “Chuck Brittle.”

  He laughed, “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “No, I am not,” she said sternly.

  My attention drifted between them, because I suspected another argument was about to ensue. Their banter was always amusing.

  “He’s a desperado. You’re going to marry her off to an outlaw?”

  “He might’ve dabbled in some shady businesses in his youth, but he’s an upstanding member of society now with a good job. He’s in need of a wife.”

  Nicolas grimaced, shaking his head. “Those sorts of men cause trouble wherever they go. He’d make a deplorable husband. He’s got the manners of an ox.”

  “Mr. Brittle is a little rough around the edges, but he’s a far sight better than someone like Taylor Holmes.”

  “Anyone is better than that drunkard, Doris. He’s in the county lockup every week. He’s probably there right now.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Chuck Brittle’s been arrested more times than I can count. You can’t possibly think someone like that would be good for a woman and her baby.”

  “He’s a changed man. He’s a churchgoer. He’s trying to mend his ways. You of all people should find that admirable.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, and I can attest to seeing him in church, but I can’t imagine Celia marrying that man. He’s as uncouth as they come and far too rough around the edges.”

  “Which would describe most of the men of Boot Creek.”

  Having been quiet, I said, “It’s fine. I don’t mind having supper and conversation with someone. Even though I wasn’t all that fond of Mr. Holter, the soup was good.”

  “You should expect more out of life, Celia,” said Nicolas.

  “I should?”

  “Yes. Anyone can take a girl out to dinner, but few will offer more. At worst, they’ll expect something else from you that no decent woman would ever consider exposing herself to.”

  “Then what are you saying? How else am I supposed to find a husband? If I sit in my room all day, I’ll never meet anyone. If I don’t meet anyone, then I’ll have to manage my son on my own, and my money will eventually run out. You seem to know everything, Nick, so you tell me what to do.”

  Mrs. Hershey stared at him raptly, clearly interested in what he would say. I had hit a nerve. It looked like he might break a tooth or two, because his jaw had clenched. I waited patiently for wise words and sage advice, but instead of saying anything, he turned on his heel and strode away.

  “Oh, my goodness,” murmured Doris.

  “He’s the most perplexing person I’ve ever met.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I dare say, I think I love that man.” Having uttered those words out loud, my heart flipped over almost painfully in my chest.

  Her hand covered mine. “I know, my dear.”

  “You know?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I could tell straight away there was something between you. Why do you think I’m throwing these particular men your way? I know they’re highly unsuitable.”

  “But you’re supposed to help me find a husband.”

  “Oh, I have already.”

  “You’re confusing me, Doris. I’ve no idea what’s up or down now.”

  “What’s down will soon be up.”

  “Stop it,” I giggled. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You just continue to be you, and I’ll continue to arrange dates with the town’s most unsuitable bachelors. You’ll have Nicolas on one knee shortly, my dear, and proposing marriage.”

  “I would love that, but there’s more to him than we know. He has a drawing of a pretty woman in a book—someone from his past. She left him. I think he’s skittish about the prospect of giving his heart to another woman.”

  “He won’t have any choice in the matter. You can’t help who you fall in love with. I’ve suspected his feelings for you ran deep, and what I just witnessed confirmed it.”

  “I think so too, but I don’t know when he’ll offer for me or if he ever will. I’m rather pragmatic about these things. Marrying someone I adore would be a dream come true, but I’m from Amarillo, Texas, and the only things a girl can expect from that part of the world are rough-living farmers and dirt floors.”

  Mrs. Hershey’s laughter rang out, and heads turned in our direction, including Nicolas, who sat with several men at a nearby table. I grinned too, because the alternative would have seen me in tears, and I would never cry in public.

  After lunch, I returned to my room, finding that my back ached horribly. I slept most of the afternoon, waking to the most severe pain I had ever experienced. The feeling began between my thighs, spreading upwards over my belly and then settling painfully in my lower back. This sensation would come and go, only lasting a few minutes, but it gradually became worse instead of improving. I wanted to ask for help, but each time I tried to stand, the pain would send me to my knees, and
I found myself on the floor, leaning over the bed, as this was the only position that felt comfortable.

  I could not be certain for how long I suffered in such a manner, but, as the evening shadows began to darken the room, I knew it had grown late. Being in utter agony, I began to moan helplessly, as wave after wave of pain breached and crested, tumbling over me.

  “Celia!” It was Nicolas, who stood on the other side of the door.

  “Help me,” I cried, as another contraction descended, gripping my belly like a vice. “I can’t do this much longer!”

  Not being able to reach the knob to unlock the door, something fell upon the wood, splintering the frame in one corner. Nicolas appeared a second later, having broken his way into my room.

  “Celia!”

  I wasn’t able to say anything, because another painful episode left me gasping for breath and writhing in agony, while I sat on the floor before the bed. Hands grasped my shoulders, hauling me up, but I fought him, knowing it felt better to lean against the mattress.

  “It hurts! I can’t lie down, Nick! It’s better on my knees.”

  “All right.”

  Being on the floor again, I moaned helplessly, while another brutal wave washed over me. “My back hurts. I hurt everywhere. Make it stop! I beg you; make it stop!”

  “You’re in labor. How long have you been at this?”

  “Since before lunch, I believe, but it wasn’t so bad.”

  “I have to get Doc Baker. You’re going to have a baby.”

  I grasped at his arm. “Please, don’t leave me.”

  “Sweetheart, I have to go. I’ll be right back; I swear to you.”

  I cried out in agony, grabbing onto the covers, while screaming into the material. He had gone already, leaving me alone, but I prayed he would return quickly, because something wet had just dampened my thighs. Worried it might be blood; I lifted the skirt, gazing at my drawers. Whatever had come from within me was clear, not bright red. Breathing a sigh of relief, I endured yet another contraction, whimpering in pain, while it lasted. Each minute felt like a lifetime, the agony nearly intolerable, but I was forced to bear it. I wasn’t sure how long I waited, but, by the time Nicolas had returned, I felt the distinct need to push.

  “All right, my dear,” said a male voice. “Let me have a look. I’m sorry about the hands, but this is the only way to know what’s happening.”

  I felt someone at my thigh, moving aside material and lowering my drawers. If I hadn’t been in such a state, I would have kicked him in the face, but I knew it was the doctor, and he had to deliver this baby.

  “The water’s already broke.” He felt me intimately for a moment, which was mortifying, but the pain of a contraction eclipsed these emotions. “Well, I can feel the head. I’d say it’s time to push, Mrs. Wellington. You may stay in this position, if it pleases you. There’s a pair of scissors in my bag.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need a clean cloth as well.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Now then, Celia. You may push at will. I don’t think you’ll have to do much to get this baby out.”

  “Ooohhh … all … right!” I grunted, having already begun to push. Knowing the doctor was here gave me the strength to do what was needed. I pushed twice more, and, by the time Nicolas returned, I had given birth.

  The sound of a baby crying shattered the silence. “Congratulations, Mrs. Wellington. You have a son.”

  Chapter 13

  For having been in agony for hours, it was remarkable how much better I felt once Noah was born. After he had fallen into Doctor Baker’s hands, I had gotten on the bed and waited for the placenta to appear, relieved the ordeal was nearly over. Nicolas held Noah, cradling the newborn in his arms, while Doctor Baker saw to my needs. He had removed my skirt and bodice, leaving only the ill-fitting chemise, but it could not be helped. The blankets covered enough, and once the baby was in my arms, I cried from happiness and relief.

  He was perfect, with tiny fingers that had curled under and a rosebud mouth. No longer crying, he rested, sleeping calmly. “He’s so small.”

  “Yes, but, once you feed him, he’ll grow.” The doctor packed his things. “You’ve every reason to celebrate, Mrs. Wellington. Congratulations on your new son. He’s perfectly healthy.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “He’ll want to eat eventually, and you’ll have to attach him to your breast.”

  “All right.” I gazed at the baby, marveling at the emotions coursing through me. Tears fell to my cheeks, splashing Noah’s face. “I’m making you all wet.”

  “I can manage from here,” said Nicolas. “Thank you for your help.”

  “She’ll need a meal soon enough. She’s been laboring all day, and I doubt she’s eaten anything.”

  “I’ll get food. I can do it.”

  “If you have any other questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He strode to the door. “You have a good night, folks. Enjoy the newborn. He’ll keep you up, so sleep when you can.”

  “Thank you for your help, sir,” I said.

  “It was my pleasure. I hardly did a thing. The women are the ones who take it all on. They’re strong when it comes to childbirth.”

  “I could not agree more,” said Nicolas, smiling. After the doctor had left, he approached the bed, sitting on the edge. “You had a boy, like you said you would.”

  “I did.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  He touched my face. “You look tired.”

  “I am.”

  “I’m going to bring you food and tea and whatever else you need. I’ll be right back.”

  I took his hand, squeezing it. “I’m so glad you were here. I would’ve had him on my own, if you hadn’t come along.”

  His smile fell. “That’s a frightening thought. I had a strange premonition you were in trouble. I was in discussion with a young couple planning their wedding, and I left them. They’re probably still waiting for me. I’m the worst sort of preacher.” He grinned. “I just said, ‘Excuse me,’ and walked out on them.”

  “They’ll understand.”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing the fingers. “I’m glad I came when I did. You needed me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Now I’ll see what I’ve got for food.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself overly much. Some tea would be nice.”

  “All right.”

  Once he left, the baby began to fuss, the sound of crying so alien, I stared at the tiny creature in my arms. “Goodness you’ve got a set of lungs on you.” Lowering the strap of my chemise, I attempted to push a nipple into his mouth, although it took several tries before he latched on. “Oh, my!” I had never experienced anything quite like that before. He began to suck heartily. “How singular.” Now that Noah was happy, I relaxed against the pillow, closing my eyes.

  By the time Nicolas returned, he sat beside the bed, gazing at me. “You figured it out.”

  “Hum?”

  He touched my forehead. “You’re exhausted.”

  “I am.”

  “You’ve got him eating.”

  “I did, but he’s asleep now. I don’t have a bed for him. I suppose he’ll sleep with me.”

  “I can take him for a moment, so you can visit the water closet. Do you need help walking?”

  “That’s a good question.” I handed the baby to Nicolas. Then I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “I feel so weak.”

  “You’ve worked hard for hours. I can only imagine.”

  After I managed to get to my feet, I took one tentative step after another, reaching the door. “I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

  “Call out, if there’s trouble.”

  “I will.”

  When I returned, he had the baby wrapped in a small blanket, just like Doctor Baker advised. I sat on the bed, reaching for the tea, which waited on a small table nearby. Nicolas pass
ed a plate my way with a sandwich made of tomatoes.

  “Thank you.” He watched me eat, and I felt slightly self-conscious about the state I was in. “I must be a sight.” My hair had come loose from its pins, hanging down all around me.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  The rich tenor of his voice sent a tingle down my spine. “You needn’t flatter me. I know I look awful.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Embarrassed by the conversation, I said, “This is good. You used salt and pepper too. I can taste it.”

  “I’ve been a bachelor so long, I had to learn to make food or starve.” A knock on the door startled us. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Wellington,” said a male voice. “Are you in there? I’m Chuck Brittle. I thought maybe you forgot about supper.”

  My mouth fell open. “What do I do?”

  Nicolas scowled. “I’ll tell him to go away.” He stalked towards the door, opening it slightly. “The lady’s not up to receiving visitors at the moment.”

  “Oh, hello, Preacher. Fancy, finding you here. Is everything all right?” He tilted his head to peer into the room. “Mrs. Wellington?”

  I caught sight of a tall, rugged looking man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. “Yes?”

  “You didn’t forget about our date, did you?”

  “I had a baby, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”

  He pushed his way in, grinning. “Is that so? Is that the little tyke?”

  “Yes.”

  Nicolas had little choice but to step aside, as Mr. Brittle advanced into the room. I found the look on Nick’s face amusing. From his thunderous expression, he wanted to choke Mr. Brittle with his bare hands. I could read him far too well.

  “I brought you these.” A bushel of wild flowers appeared.

  “Oh, how lovely.”

  “I sure am disappointed you weren’t able to come to supper, but I can see you’re otherwise occupied.”

  “I was. Perhaps, we can try again another time?”

  “Whenever you wish.”

  He was handsome, in a weathered sort of way that bespoke of years in the sun. “You’re very understanding. Thank you.”