by Kit Morgan
Sam nodded and headed for the door.
Three
A knock sounded. “Lottie!” Leora called from the kitchen. “Will you get that?”
Lottie sighed as she wiped soot from her hands. She and Leora were taking advantage of the rest of the women being out attending a gathering to tidy things up. Mr. Cooke had sent word from Boston via telegraph and messenger that he would call on her at two that afternoon. She certainly hoped the person knocking wasn’t the landlord come to fix the leaky roof.
“Today of all days,” she said as she wiped her hands on her apron one last time. “And when it’s almost noon to boot!” She got up, went to the door, opened it … “Oh blast!” She slammed the door shut.
Leora came into the room, mop in hand. “Who is it? What’s wrong?” Lottie, her back against the door, was fanning herself. “Did you just shut the door in Mr. Insley’s face? Really, Lottie, the landlord? You’ve got to get a hold of yourself – we’ll get everything straightened up in time.”
“It wasn’t Mr. Insley,” she whimpered and stepped away. She turned to the door, grabbed the knob and, taking a deep breath, opened it again.
A man – a very handsome man – stood on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in his hand … and now, a stunned expression on his face. “Good afternoon,” he said. It came out almost as a question.
God help her, but she was staring like a yokel! He was tall, easily six feet, with dark blonde hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes she’d ever seen. He had a wide smile of amusement on his face as he held the flowers a little higher. “Might I inquire if Miss Lottie Mitchell is at home?” His accent was charming … and not that of any Westerner she’d ever met – he sounded more British than anything.
She shut her mouth only to have it fall open again. Her eyes locked on the cowboy hat he wore, one that had seen better days. It was what she’d noticed when she’d opened the door the first time, recognized who he must be and panicked. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to, er … close the door.”
“What lady wouldn’t, when she discovers a strange man on her doorstep?”
He was being exceedingly gracious, and Lottie willed herself not to bolt from the room to scrub the soot from her face. She had to look horrible. “May I help you?” It was all she could think of to say and silently berated herself. Lottie, you dolt, you know why he’s here!
He looked around a moment, then turned back to her. “As I said before, is Miss Lottie Mitchell at home?”
Lottie swallowed hard and nodded.
“Excellent. Tell her Mr. Samuel Cooke is calling.”
She drew in a shaky breath. There was something odd about him. He was a cowboy, or at least dressed like one, but nothing else about him fit the image of a rough-hewn ranchman.
“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked. “Or would you prefer I wait out here?”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gaping again. “You’re … you’re…”
“Here?”
“Not what I expected.”
“Oh? And you are …?”
She shook herself in a vain attempt at gathering her wits. “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked, who are you – Alice, Leora? Er … Beth? I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to recall all your names.”
Lottie made a sound between a chuckle and a croak. This was getting worse by the second. “No, I’m … none of those.”
“Oh dear,” he said and looked at the sky, trying to remember. “Which one did I forget?”
She gave him a weak smile. “Judith.”
“Ah yes, Judith. My apologies. Judith, would you be so kind as to fetch Miss Mitchell?”
Lottie looked at him, her chest tight with the effort it took not to laugh at the situation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop herself and laughed anyway. Then she found she couldn’t stop!
“I say,” he said over her cackles, “what’s so funny?” He looked past her into the house.
Leora must still be behind her, and Lottie could only imagine the look of horror on her sister’s face. Finally she calmed down enough to speak. “You … you’re … Sam Cooke! My betrothed!”
“Yes …” he began, then blinked a few times and stared at her. “You’re not Judith? You’re Lottie Mitchell?”
She nodded as she fell against the doorjamb, her laughter redoubling. Leora was right, she was overwrought! Her worry over the cause of the fire, the survival of her sister and roommates, had caught up to her. And now this. She’d be lucky if he didn’t flee for the hills rather than marry her!
“You’ll have to excuse my sister, Mr. Cooke,” Leora called over her shoulder. “She’s … quite tired.”
Lottie’s laughter dulled to a chuckle. “She’s right, and I …” She cut loose a very unladylike snort. “… excuse me … I wasn’t expecting you until two.”
“My message said twelve, did it not?” he asked, confused.
“It did? I must have misread it.” She reached into the pocket of her apron for the letter, pushed a lock of hair out of her face and squinted to read the missive. A coffee stain covered the time of his arrival, and it did make it hard to tell if the time said twelve or two. “You’re quite right,” she conceded. “I must have read it wrong. I apologize for my appearance, Mr. Cooke – we were working to make the house ready for your arrival … oh dear. Please, I know you’ve come all this way, but …”
“But of course,” he interrupted. “You’d like to, er … make yourself presentable. I understand, these things happen. But not to worry – I saw a park not far from here. I could wait there and call on you again, say, in an hour?”
She smiled in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Again, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” And that I’ve made such a jackass of myself, she added silently.
“Think nothing of it – accidents will happen. I’ll return in an hour.” He turned and strode across the street as a man leaning against a lamppost watched him. Great, now the neighbors would know. She didn’t recognize him, but why else would he stand there? Her little display was probably the most entertainment the stranger’d had in weeks.
She shut the door with the thought, turned to Leora and fell into her arms. “I just made the biggest fool of myself!”
Leora held her and shrugged. “Well, look on the bright side.”
“What bright side?” Lottie said with a sniff. She would not cry!
“He’s coming back.”
Lottie squirmed out of her sister’s embrace. “Good grief, you’re right! Help me get ready, will you?”
Leora nodded and let her sister drag her off to the bedroom.
* * *
“She’s stunning,” Sam stated. “In a … sooty, coal-covered sort of way.”
Ferris burst out laughing. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! I wished I’d heard more. By the way, what was she laughing at?”
Samuel shook his head as he sat on a park bench. “Her hysterics? That’s when she told me who she was, or rather just before. I thought she might be one of the roommates. What bride answers the door covered in ash?”
“Yours, apparently.”
Sam smiled. “Quite.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“No, of course not. Besides, I don’t know her yet – I’m sure she looks much better when she hasn’t just been scrubbing the fireplace.”
“She’s blonde from what I could see from across the street.”
“Yes, and has the loveliest eyes. In fact, I’d say they were the same color as mine.” He chuckled as he took on a far off look. “And she looked strong – that’s something. She doesn’t look like a Clear Creek winter would do her in.”
“I wonder what she’ll look like after a bath.”
“I’m sure I’ll be quite pleased.”
Ferris studied him. “I think you already are.”
Sam sat a little straighter on the bench. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve got the same sort of
smile on your face your pa gets when he talks about your ma.”
Sam’s smile broadened. “I do? Fancy that. Must run in the family.”
Ferris laughed. “Must. What do you want me to do?”
“Go back to the hotel. I’ll find out where and when Miss Mitchell wishes to wed, then we can make arrangements for the trip home.”
“Very well. Oh, and Sam?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to fall in love too quickly.”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“My pa told me all about your pa and how he fell in love with your ma at first sight.”
“Pah. You know me better than that – I’ll do nothing of the kind.”
“You’re a Cooke, aren’t you?”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“Everything. All the men in your family get it bad. Harrison, your pa – and we all know what happened to your Uncle Duncan.”
Sam shook his head and smiled. “Very well, the men in my family do have a habit of falling in love at first sight. But not me. I plan to get to know this girl and have a good start on love by the time I get home.”
Ferris chuckled and stood. “Good luck. I still give you less than a week before you’re completely besotted.”
“Nonsense. This is a mail-order bride – there’s no time for courting. For all I know, we’ll marry this evening.”
“Besotted. Less than a week. Mark my words.”
“Oh get on, will you?” Sam said and waved him away.
Ferris took a few steps back. “I’ll see you later.” He glanced at the other side of the small park. “I hope she’s up to the journey. She did look a little undernourished.”
Sam nodded. He’d been thinking the same, but hadn’t wanted to speak it. And what about the roommates? He hadn’t paid as close attention to her sister, but he’d make it a point to get a good look at both of them when he returned – and any of the others if they were home.
He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Forty-five minutes to go. What to do until then? He sat back against the bench, stretched his legs out in front of him and pulled his hat over his eyes with a sigh.
* * *
“My petticoat – where is my petticoat?” Lottie grumbled as she rummaged through her dresser. She’d tried to get the ash out of her hair earlier and ended up having to wash it. Leora came up with the idea to braid the long locks and wrap them around Lottie’s head, since they both knew it would never dry by the time Mr. Cooke came back. They had to do something with it. Truth be told, Lottie rather liked the look.
“I think Judith borrowed it,” Leora said as she came into the small bedroom.
“What?” Lottie tossed a chemise onto one of the bunk beds. They had three sets in the one bedroom, a trunk at the end of each. The only dresser was shoved next to the door. “I told her not to. Today of all days!”
“Stop fretting, you’ll look lovely.”
“Yes, I wear foolish quite well.”
“Don’t start that again. You’ve had a rough week.”
Lottie watched Leora dig through the trunk they shared. “Only because I can’t stop thinking about leaving you.”
Her sister stopped what she was doing. “I know what you mean. I can’t stop thinking …” She couldn’t finish. Her lower lip trembled as she crossed the room to Lottie and took her in her arms. “I don’t know how I’m going to get along without you.”
“We have to be strong and we’ll write all the time,” Lottie told her with a sniffle. “We can both save our money so that we can visit each other. Just think, I’ll be in Oregon, you’ll be in California. That’s not so bad – just one state away.” Of course, the states out West were a lot larger …
“But what if there are no trains from this Clear Creek to Nevada City?”
“Even if there isn’t, I’m sure there’s a stage from the nearest train station.” Lottie grabbed a handkerchief off the dresser and handed it to Leora. “Now help me get dressed and let’s get this over with.”
Leora blew her nose. “Well you don’t have to sound so dreary about it. He’s going to be your husband.”
“I know. It’s just that … I’ll be leaving soon, and I feel like I haven’t done my job.”
Leora stuffed the handkerchief into her apron pocket. “What job … oh no! Not that!”
“But I was so close! For all we know, he’s still in Dover!”
“Lottie, don’t. You saw Mr. Cooke. He’s handsome, he has money, at least more than we do and he wants to marry you. You have a chance to start a new life – stop dwelling on the old one. The one that you didn’t like that much anyway.”
“I suppose,” Lottie though she sounded unconvinced. “Well, help me get dressed. He’ll be back soon.”
Leora helped her don her Sunday clothes, such as they were. The yellow day dress was faded to a cream color, the frock a hand-me-down from one of their neighbors. Speaking of neighbors, she wondered if the man who’d witnessed her first meeting with Mr. Cooke had gone home and told his family about her behavior. If he did live in the area, she was sure it would get around soon enough. If she was lucky, he was some salesman passing through.
“What if he wants to get married tomorrow?” Leora asked as she buttoned up the back of Lottie’s dress.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’ve been more concerned with the next fifteen minutes.”
Leora glanced at the clock on the dresser. “Ten.”
“Oh dear,” Lottie said, closing her eyes. She began to hyperventilate.
“Calm down! I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I’m trying to!” And failing. “I’m going to have to talk to him. I don’t mind telling you that now that he’s here and I’ve seen him – or, more unfortunately, he’s seen me … I fear he might have second thoughts.”
Leora, finished with the buttons, stepped around her sister to face her. “Do you?”
“Of course not. This is for the best. It’s the only way.”
“Then what makes you think he might?”
Lottie swallowed hard. Good heavens, why did she? She suddenly felt awkward and shy at the thought of spending time with Mr. Cooke. He was her future husband; she should be excited to finally get to meet and marry him. But she wasn’t – why not?
Of course, she knew. Mr. Brown. Lottie’s stomach went cold just thinking about him. She smiled at Leora then turned to the dresser.
Leora made herself busy putting the room back in order. Lottie was going to miss her sister. She was going to miss all the girls. And it was all due to their good-for-nothing ex-employer, Master Bob, as Leora had once referred to him. Funny how he hadn’t been around the mill much in the last few months …
“Lottie!”
Lottie jumped and let loose a yelp. “What? For heaven’s sake, don’t startle me like that!”
Leora nodded toward the parlor. “I think Mr. Cooke is back.”
Lottie’s eyes gravitated to the parlor window. Sure enough, there at the end of the walk stood her betrothed. “Oh dear me.”
“Now don’t be nervous!” Leora advised. “And take my advice.”
“What advice?”
“Marry him as soon as you’re able.”
“Isn’t that what mail-order brides usually do?”
“Yes, but he’s awfully handsome – if you don’t, I’m sure someone else will.”
Lottie sighed. “Very well, I’ll see to my nuptials.” She headed for the door, jaw set in determination.
Four
This time when Lottie answered the door, she took a few seconds to study Sam Cooke. If she’d thought he was handsome before while in panic-induced hysteria, he was pure magnificence now. His eyes were bright hazel. His hair was streaked with spun gold, thick and curled at the ends, from what she could see – he had yet to remove his hat. He also looked taller than she remembered, clearly over six feet.
His face still held the golden tan of a summer spent outdoors, a
nd when she glanced at his hands (which still held the bouquet of flowers from earlier) she could see the calluses of hard work. His advertisement said he was a rancher – but did he simply work the ranch, or own it?
Questions began popping rapidly into her head, centered around one main thought: she knew almost nothing about this man. He was a perfect stranger.
“We meet again,” he said with a dazzling smile. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting – I tried to give you a few extra minutes …”
Lottie swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, not at all.” She stepped away from the door, grabbed her shawl and reticule and joined him outside.”
“Are we going somewhere?” he asked as she closed the door.
“Our roommates will be home soon. I didn’t think you’d want to call on me with a house full of women.”
He smiled at that. “Quite so, but … what about a chaperone? Did you wish your sister to accompany us?”
Lottie hadn’t thought of that. Good grief, what must he think of her now? But then … “Er, if we’re to be married, do we really need one?”
He shrugged. “Every mail-order bride I’ve known had a chaperone when her betrothed came to call, even if they did get married right away. My mother used to insist such things were proper. But then, I’ve never had a mail-order bride myself. And some of those instances were twenty, thirty years ago …”
“A chaperone does make sense, now that I think about it.” She forced a smile and turned to the door. This was not going as well as she planned. Why hadn’t she thought of these sorts of things? She called to Leora, explained the situation and within minutes the three of them were heading to the park.
“I hope you don’t think it improper, now that we’ve established the chaperone issue,” he said, “but, might I call you by your first names?”
Lottie exchanged a glance with Leora and shrugged. “If we’re going to be married soon, I don’t see why not.”