“Bet Madame Bonheur is chomping at the bit to get those brides out of her girls’ rooms.”
Jack nodded. Miss Bell would be much safer and extremely more appreciated in his bed upstairs. He couldn’t shake that thought in particular from his mind. He needed a wife and now that he’d met his bride he desired her as well.
A future full of misery loomed large. Miss Bell had agreed to be his wife, but now that she’d seen the town and him, could he convince her to actually marry him?
“First thing you gotta do,” Gus said as if sensing his worry, or maybe sharing it, “is impress her with yer manners ’n sugar talk. Women like that stuff.”
“First, I need to make my deliveries.” And before he could, he had to clear the main row that divided their usually meticulously organized office. Then he could reach the shipment that arrived yesterday with the brides. Incoming freight was always deposited directly behind the postal counter for him to record and distribute—which he always did the day it arrived.
Yesterday, he’d been distracted. Today, his customers would be wondering why their orders were delayed. Now they’d have to wait even longer. The disruption of his routine ruffled his own cantankerous side. He had only himself to blame.
He’d been hooked by a woman as foreign as she was familiar. She could easily leave him and Gus in the lurch. And the town too. He should’ve focused on his work. He hung his lantern on a hook and stomped toward the stacks. He bit back his growl of impatience and discomfort when his leg protested his vigor and reduced him to a hobble.
The cast-iron firebox door clanked shut, confirming Gus’ position by the stove where he was most likely adding more kindling. “Gotta keep our home warm ’n inviting,” Gus said, “Know we probably shouldn’t be working on Christmas Day but—”
“We worked last Christmas.”
“True,” Gus replied, still remaining unseen on the other side of the room. “And the one before that, as well. So…”
The silence that filled the office made him more agitated than Gus’ chatter. “So, what?” he prompted.
“So, fortune favors the early bird. You shoulda got up earlier.”
“Agreed.” He gathered the materials obstructing his path, taking care not to damage the mysteriously soft, delicate fabrics. Why did such things appeal to women? Surely a stronger, more resilient cloth was preferable?
If Miss Bell stayed, she could explain the desire for such finery to him and his customers. She’d be a valuable asset to the Peregrine business. His mother had passed when he was young, but he and his brother still had two parents. They’d been raised equally by their father and grandfather. Gus deserved a worry-free retirement—and a restful one, too.
“What time did you get up?” he asked.
“Never went to sleep.” At the other end of the room, Gus’ head finally rose above the freight. His red hair and beard puffed out around him like a windblown gnome. “What’s taking you so long? Stop lollygagging ’n get yer backside over here.”
“I’m trying.” Since he’d recovered from his initial shock of entering the office and his daydreams about Miss Bell, he hadn’t stopped moving forward. Yes, his pace was slow but it was also practical. He fought the compulsion to tidy everything in his sight and only gathered the items in his path. “I’m being careful and—”
“Fussy ’n finicky. Today ain’t a good day to be a stickler. Daylight’s burning.”
“It’s December. The sun hasn’t risen. I doubt anyone else has either.”
“Don’t matter. We gotta get you presentable ’n seal the deal with yer bride fast.” He waved the coffee pot in the air.
Jack flinched as coffee sloshed over the spout. When it spattered on the floor instead of Gus, he heaved a sigh of relief but also increased his pace. He threw Miss Bell’s belongings willy-nilly out of his way in order to reach Gus. His top priority had become getting the hot liquid out of Gus’ hands before he burned himself.
When he reached the end of the now hastily cleared row, Gus set the pot down with a clunk on the stove’s flat top, picked up two full cups, handed one to him and raised the other in a salute.
“We both need a cup of inspiration for what comes next. Come hell or high water, we’re convincing Miss Bell yer a fine catch.” He waggled his bushy brows. “We’re gonna dazzle her. We’re gonna sweep her off her feet. We’re—”
“Slow down. We don’t want to—” What? Smother her with their rustic attention and limitations? Save that for the marriage bed when she saw, and felt, the stump of his missing leg. He stared at the floorboards and tried not to grimace. “We don’t want to spook her.”
Gus cleared his throat gruffly. “Yer worrying me. You ain’t cracked a smile since spring.”
That was before he’d been told the truth about Lorena. This was his fault. His constant brooding was weighing on Gus. The old man had launched a mission to see him happy as if he thought time was running out.
Jack couldn’t envision a future without his grandfather. He forced a smile and grasped Gus’ much-too-thin shoulder. “We got plenty of time.”
“No, we don’t.” Gus seized his shoulder as well and their eyes locked. “And you know it as well as me, Sunny Boy.”
The childhood name stole the air from his lungs. When had he last heard it? Before his father died and he’d lost his leg fighting to save him? Before Lorena disappeared? Growing up together, she’d called him Sunny Boy along with everyone else. He should’ve realized they had major problems when she began referring to him simply as husband.
Neither name fit him anymore. Maybe they never had.
Life had crushed the cheerful boy who’d once smiled as brightly as his sun-burnished hair.
Gus’ gaze went eastward, toward the other end of town where Jack’s new bride slept oblivious to the turmoil that awaited her—if she still agreed to his proposal. “Miss Bell is the answer to my prayers. Give her a chance ’n you’ll see she’s perfect for you.”
In his dreams she was perfect, but not in his reality. His life was too battered and broken, too hard for a woman of her petite stature. “In my letters, I repeatedly warned of hard work and the need for a strong wife. Why did she agree to come here?”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. We’ll keep her safe. She won’t go missing like Lorena.”
Jack’s hands clenched into fists. For years, he’d held onto the belief that Lorena was alive and would find her way back to him. Now both he and Gus knew the truth concerning his wife’s disappearance. But Gus’ mind refused to remember what the Braverys—a husband and wife team who specialized in hunting for lost loved ones—had discovered.
“Surely Miss Bell received dozens of better proposals in Denver.”
“Their loss is our gain.” Gus gave him a disgruntled look. “Young men don’t know how to hold onto an opportunity.”
“I’m not that young.”
“From where I’m standing, yer a spring chicken. So is Miss Bell. Yer an excellent match.”
When she’d written that she was thirty—the same age as him, he’d deemed it as a good omen. They’d both had time to mature and outgrow any flighty behavior. If Miss Bell had any wild days, hopefully they were long behind her.
“A tenacious man wins the day,” Gus said.
“It’s not entirely up to the man. The woman has a say.” Why had Miss Bell said yes to marrying him, a man she knew only from a few letters? She knew next to nothing about him.
“Miss Bell saw something in yer words. Now she’s gonna see a helluva lot more in yer actions. Cause yer gonna pull out all the stops when courting her.”
Jack leaned against the counter and rubbed his thigh. The newest wooden leg he’d carved fit better than the last one, but the stump of his lost limb still ached, especially before and after a storm—both ones created by the weather and his grandfather. From the corner of his eye, he watched Gus staring intently into his cup of inspiration. Once the old man latched onto a subject, he was as hard to sh
ake free as a dog from your trouser leg.
He needed time to think before he faced Miss Bell and Gus’ advice on courting her. He knew he was avoiding the hardest part of his day, but he didn’t care. He cast about for a way to distract Gus and himself.
His gaze skittered across their messy office and halted on Gus’ leather stamping tools hanging neatly on the rack Jack had built as a Christmas gift their first year in Noelle.
“Why haven’t you begun a new project?” He gestured with his chin toward Gus’ tools. “Mayor Hardt and Hugh thanked you profusely for the briefcases you made for them. Woody loves the saddlebags. Culver’s always using your tool roll. Kyi-yee’s the same with the sheath for his hunting knife. And Draven’s revolvers look extra deadly in your gun belt.”
Gus shrugged one shoulder. “Making things ain’t as easy as it used to be. So, I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“Inspiration,” Gus declared as if it should be obvious. “I want every item I create to be both unique ’n useful to its recipient.”
“Why did you remove Miss Bell’s items?”
“So they wouldn’t get creased or stained inside those frost-bitten transport sacks. We had a devil of a storm yesterday, remember? Life is as unpredictable as the weather. You need to go visit Miss Bell now.”
Jack pulled his watch from his pocket and considered the time. “Miss Bell will be tired from her travels and yesterday’s excitement. She’ll probably sleep till noon. I’ll sort and deliver the town shipment, organize the office”—before she could see the chaos—“then I’ll go see her.”
“Don’t forget to comb yer hair ’n shave before you do. You look like a wild man or a lion or the two rolled into one.”
Jack raked his fingers through his tangled hair. It’d always been too thick to be easily tamed. He had a lot to do before he was ready to face Miss Bell again.
A knock rattled the door. A foreign sound. If anyone in town saw a light in their window, they knew to open the door and let themselves in—even this early in the morning.
The knock came again. Louder. More determined, like bad news that couldn’t wait.
With his nerves jangling, he crossed to the door and yanked it open.
Miss Bell stood outside with her tiny fist raised to knock again. Her lips parted on a silent gasp and her eyes widened as her gaze traveled over him.
Behind him, Gus said the words racing through his mind, words that held him frozen with dread at his bride’s unexpected and much too early visit. “Have you come to tell my grandson that the wedding is off?”
CHAPTER 5
Birdie blinked in shock. The sight of Jack towering over her with a halo of lantern light behind him left her breathless. So did his grandfather’s words.
Did they want her to call the wedding off? Why didn’t the possibility please her? Getting tied down in marriage had been the cost of escaping Denver with her treasure trove of fabrics and partially made dresses. If she could find another way to solve her current predicament, she would’ve taken it. Wouldn’t she?
Jack Peregrine remained stock-still, staring at her like he wanted to carry her upstairs and consummate their marriage immediately. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. Jack had yet to comment on his grandfather’s question. She needed to discover the truth of the situation without revealing too much about her present or her past—which still held the power to destroy any hope of a normal future.
She dredged up a reply that answered but still avoided his grandfather’s query. “I’m here because I saw a light in your window.” In the unusually high windows that she hadn’t been able to peek through and see what might await her inside.
She’d had to go forward blindly. Something she disliked doing. She lowered her hand and pressed her palm to her chest in an effort to calm her pounding heart.
A frown creased Jack’s brow. “You saw our lantern all the way from La Maison?”
“No, of course not. I took a chance you’d be up and saw your light as I crossed the bridge.” It had taken all of her willpower to walk serenely past the sheriff’s jail on the main street. Her wish to never meet the man had influenced her early start. Hopefully Draven wasn’t a morning person.
Jack’s frown deepened. “You ventured out alone?”
“She shouldn’t have done that.” Gus’ gruff words came closer but she still couldn’t see him with Jack filling the doorway. “It’s not safe.”
“Safe or not, I did it,” she replied, trying to soften the resentment edging her voice. It wasn’t her fault she had to do everything on her own. “I’ve been alone since I was sixteen. That should prove I can take care of myself.”
It was Jack’s turn to blink in surprise.
She’d shared too much information and not the right kind. She was supposed to be a bride eager to end her solitude and find shelter under the wing of a man—this very large and handsome man standing before her.
Why wasn’t he married?
Mrs. Walters had told Birdie that twelve marriages were required to provide an appearance of stability. The town needed to convince everyone it was prospering, not declining.
Was Jack’s commitment to saving the town—and his freighting business—his primary reason for seeking a bride? The bleak thought didn’t bode well for a loving union. Neither did Jack’s disconcerting silences.
Before she could soften her reply and fill the void, Gus’ words flew out as if a door to a birdcage had been opened, “What if you got lost? Being so new to Noelle, you might not find yer way back to us. You might wander for days, for years. You might—”
Jack spun sideways and clasped the old man’s shoulder. “Miss Bell is fine. She made it safely to our office and she’ll let us know when she’s ready to leave. That way I can walk her back to La Maison or wherever else she wishes to go.” His gaze cut back to her. “Won’t you Miss Bell?”
Normally she’d find a way to sidestep such a commitment. She disliked breaking promises that might prove impossible to keep. But the worry on Gus’ face as he contemplated her—and on Jack’s face as his gaze darted between her and his grandfather—made her say, “I’ll let you know.”
Jack gave her a thankful look, then raked his fingers through his hair. The restless gesture didn’t soothe his wild mane. He’d need help for that. A woman’s help. A wife’s.
But he’d only sought one when this town decided their bachelors must wed to entice a railroad line to join with them. A thoroughly unromantic notion. An unfamiliar one, too. She was used to looking after only herself.
She’d do well to guard both her heart and her prospects in Noelle.
She scanned her surroundings for a way to steer the conversation in a new direction. Since she still couldn’t see beyond the Peregrine men she was left with a view of the outside of their establishment. “You have a lovely office. I couldn’t miss the sign’s precisely carved lettering. The walls appear snuggly framed and the awning pleasantly minimizes the snow on your porch.”
But those darned high windows were still a mystery and a nuisance.
She craned her neck to see around Jack and his grandfather, curious to glimpse what lay inside and answer a question that pestered her since the wagon driver had parted her from her possessions—was her treasure trove of fabrics and partially made dresses safe in the Peregrines’ care?
“I imagine it’s quite cozy inside,” she added.
Gus coughed gruffly while at the same time saying something that sounded like, “Manners.”
“My apologies.” Jack stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “You must be cold. Please come in.”
Her gaze clung to him as she crossed the threshold. Despite leaving the chill outside, she shivered as she leaned toward the heat radiating from him. “Winter is an old friend, so the cold doesn’t bother me all that much especially since I made this coat.” When she gestured to the garment, her fingers almost brushed Jack’s chest. She tore her gaze and her hand away from him, and straightened her course.
“I grew up in the snow, far to the east in—”
The sight of her fabrics and dresses covering a waist-high counter and everything on the other side halted her. It was a good thing. She’d been about to mention Quebec.
Her unusual giddiness at seeing Jack again had made her speak before weighing her words. Something she also disliked doing. It was never wise to give out too many details about a past one wished to keep secret. It was better for everyone to assume she’d been born in France.
The door closed behind her with a soft but resounding click.
Jack’s breath brushed her ear as he walked by her and whispered, “I apologize for the mess as well, Miss Bell.”
The mess was puzzling but she was thankful it had appeared and cut off her blathering. Then again having her inventory out of its bags meant she couldn’t get everything in a wagon for a speedy departure. That was no longer an option.
The growing likelihood of losing her fabrics loomed like a black cloud with only one bright spot. It’d cover her debt.
Same as the other grooms, Jack had paid for the train ticket necessary for the first leg of his bride’s journey to Noelle. But unlike the other men, he’d also invested his time and money to transport her inventory. When he found a buyer, her debt would be cleared. He’d temporarily be out of pocket.
Guilt shouldn’t prick her conscience, but it did. Finding a replacement bride to meet Jack’s needs, and the town’s as well, wouldn’t be so easy. She must harden her heart against dwelling on such concerns.
The Peregrine men had moved to a potbelly stove set against the wall. Gus poured a cup of coffee and held it out to her. Jack grabbed the back of a chair and turned the seat toward her.
“Come sit by the stove and warm yourself,” he said.
Her fingers itched to hold a needle and resume work on one of her dresses, but her feet obeyed Jack’s words and went straight to him. Luckily the cup Gus offered snagged her attention before she almost ran into his grandson again.
The Calling Birds_The Fourth Day Page 3