Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
A FAMILY FOR MERRY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
About Caroline Clemmons
A FAMILY FOR POLLY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About Jacquie Rogers
PROLOGUE
These two novellas from the authors of Mail Order Tangle are expanded from previous inclusion in the Under A Mulberry Moon anthology.
Asked to help with recording who took which children from the orphan train, Merry and Polly Bird took advantage of the position. Determined to liberate five quirky, ragtag orphans not likely to be adopted by caring people, they vowed the children would not end up as they had fourteen years ago.
The rescue idea appeared to have merit—until the supervisor from the Children’s Aid Society arrived. Single women were not allowed to adopt. Merry and Polly each had five days to find a suitable husband who wouldn’t steal their share of the boarding house.
Become a bride or lose her children!
A FAMILY FOR MERRY
Chapter One
May 25, 1878, Mockingbird Flats, Texas
Merry Bird slid the cash box into the small safe. “Another week’s rent successfully collected.”
Her adopted sister Polly checked the ledger. “I’m relieved every month when our savings increase. You know I can’t help myself, Merry. I always fear this will be the month we won’t make our expenses and will have to dip into our savings to pay the butcher or the mercantile.”
“We’re doing well so quit worrying.” Merry understood her adopted sister’s misgivings were due to them having grown up as adoptees of terrible parents. Would her sister ever completely heal from their childhood? “Wouldn’t those horrible Birds be surprised to see what we’ve accomplished?”
Merry examined her fingers. “I thought my hands were beyond recovering the right color and texture. Even four years later I recall the discomfort when they were broken out and bleeding.”
Polly’s expression sobered. “I’m surprised we survived. Certainly doing so wasn’t because we had good care or decent clothes or comfortable places to sleep.”
Merry hugged her sister’s shoulders. “We’re fine now and that’s what counts. We have a great place to live, nice people renting from us, and people we can pay to cook and clean. I count us lucky in so many ways.”
“You’re right.” Polly grimaced. “Well, mostly nice people. Mrs. Adams and Miss Cross can be a trial, can’t they? That’s beside the point.”
Polly gestured around them. “I simply have to keep reminding myself this won’t disappear.”
“I wonder what the reason is for tomorrow’s special committee meeting of the Women’s Society? Vallie was mysterious when she came by.”
Polly giggled. “Whatever her reason it must be serious to take time on a Sunday afternoon. I don’t think the mighty Mayor Elton Collins appreciates looking after the children or having his day off from the bank disturbed.”
Merry couldn’t suppress her own chuckle. “My, my, he’s far too important. You’ve only to ask him if you have any doubt.”
Polly said, “I suspect he’ll be off to Lucky’s Tavern while Amaryllis keeps watch on her brothers playing in the garden.”
From the dining room a gong called residents to supper.
Merry rolled her eyes. “I think Elvira takes out her frustrations by striking that gong.”
“Better the disk than one of us.”
Laughing together, the sisters walked into the dining room to help deliver food to their residents before they enjoyed their own meal.
***
Mockingbird Boardinghouse rent included breakfast and supper. For a small additional fee, a light dinner was available at noon. The exception to this was Sunday.
On Sundays, a large meal was served at half past one rather than in the evening. For supper, residents were offered crackers, cheese, and cornbread to eat with milk or coffee to drink while the cook took a half day off.
By half past two, Merry and Polly were on their way to the home of Vallie Collins for the Mockingbird Flats Women’s Society meeting. When they arrived, several others were already there. Most stood near the refreshments displayed on the dining table even though no one appeared to be partaking of the desserts.
The local doctor’s wife, Jessica Bushnell, smiled a welcome and patted beside her on the couch. “I’m glad you made it. Vallie went to tell the children in the back garden to quiet down.”
Polly elbowed Merry and whispered. “Told you.”
Ignoring her sister, Merry leaned toward Jessica. “Do you know why we’re here?”
Jessica shook her head then looked toward Vallie, who’d returned to the room.
The mayor’s wife glided in to pose by the piano. Her elegant coiffure and gown sent the message that she was an important person in this town. Privately, Merry thought the mayor and his wife were too impressed with his office.
“Ladies, thank you for coming. I’m excited to announce we’ve been given an important task. I’m sure you’ve seen the notices around town that an orphan train will be arriving on Wednesday at two o’clock. Our group has been selected to help, a wonderful honor.”
Horrible memories ricocheted through Merry’s mind and she reached for Polly’s hand. They two of them had been so frightened when they’d been marched onto the train at barely age eight. Their worst fears were realized when Joe and Ruby Bird adopted them as well as choosing the boys, Bartholomew and Newton. The four children had lived in misery and fear for almost ten years until the horrid couple’s death.
Vallie gestured to Sarah, the sweet-tempered preacher’s wife. “Reverend Jones has volunteered the church for prospective parents to view the children. We’re to keep records of which child is selected by whom. Ladies, I need at least six of you to volunteer.”
Merry raised her free hand. After an elbow nudge and a squeeze of her fingers from Merry, Polly did the same.
Six other women also volunteered.
Vallie preened and wrote the names on her slate. “Merry and Polly, will you keep the records for us while the others shepherd the children?”
Merry looked at Polly before speaking. Even though Polly squeezed her hand hard and gave her a stern look, Merry smiled at Vallie. “We’ll be pleased to do so.”
On the way home, Merry was lost in thought.
“Why did you do that against my wishes?” Polly pinched her arm. “I wish you hadn’t said we were going to see those poor children. Ever since I saw the notices go up in town I’ve been a bundle of nerves. You know some of them will go to awful homes like we did. I’m not sure I can stand watching.”
Merry rubbed at the pinched spot. “I intend for us to see they only go to nice homes. Between us, we can make sure that, at least here in Mockingbird Flats, nobody like the Birds adopts children.”
“And
how do you think we can we do that?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll think of a way. We may have to wait until Wednesday at the church to figure out a plan.”
Polly gave her an incredulous stare. “Mercedes Murphy Bird, you’re planning deception inside the church?”
Merry raised her chin. “Whatever it takes, Polly. I won’t be party to others going through what we endured, even if we did get our boardinghouse as a result.”
Resentment tinged Polly’s voice, “Hmph, those awful people could have lived for decades if they hadn’t been so greedy. Then where would we have been when we turned eighteen? Out on our ears without decent clothes or money to live on, that’s where.”
Merry patted Polly’s arm. “I know, I know, we’ve gone over this, dear. We’re doing all right so let’s be grateful for what we have.”
Even though she advised her sister to display gratitude for their present situation, Merry couldn’t stop the memories rushing to gnaw at her confidence and serenity. At least she’d had Polly to share with but theirs had been a hard and painful life. She was determined that any children they saw from the orphan train would not go to a home like they’d endured.
When they reached their wrought iron fence, Mary took pleasure in the neat appearance of their boardinghouse. Butter-yellow paint trimmed in white reminded her of sunshine. They’d recently had the sign repainted, Mockingbird Flats Boardinghouse, in white outlined with dark green lettering and border.
Mr. Nevins had painted a mockingbird on a branch under the name. The sight always boosted Merry’s morale. Hanging below and attached by hooks was the smaller sign that announced Vacancy. Stored inside they had a matching one that said No Vacancy, which was the one they usually needed.
She and Polly found most of their residents gathered in the parlor. The sisters had arranged a small bookcase where residents could borrow books to read.
Gideon Warren, who was hard of hearing, took advantage of the books. He had often said, “I don’t have to hear well to dwell in a book.” He looked up and smiled before he returned to reading.
Their two widows, Flossie Adams and Letitia Fraser sat near the windows.
Mrs. Adams glanced up when they entered. “I don’t suppose a poor widow could get a cup of coffee, could she?”
Merry smiled at the fussy woman. “Let me put my purse away and I’ll get you one. Anyone else?” The few who looked up shook their head.
Letitia, or Lettie as she asked them to call her, continued her knitting. The friendly woman insisted her hobby helped keep her arthritic fingers limber.
Merry supposed they were fortunate they only had two complaining residents, Mrs. Adams and Miss Cross.
When she and Polly returned with fresh coffee, Lettie asked, “Have you heard when the new lawyer is coming? Poor Mr. Davis has been gone one month today.”
Polly set a cup on the table beside Mrs. Adams. “He sent a wire that he’ll arrive this week but we’re not sure which day. His name isn’t Davis though. He signed his wire as Blake Woolf.”
Miss Cross looked up from her embroidery. “I suppose the sign will have to be repainted then. Is he going to live here?”
Merry admired the handkerchief Miss Cross was decorating. “He intends to use his late uncle’s room. We left Mr. Davis’ belongings there. Of course, we tidied as much as we could without being disrespectful.”
Mr. Allsup, the telegrapher, looked up from his newspaper. “Davis was a fine man. His nephew has big shoes to fill.”
Mrs. Adams set down her cup. “I for one am curious to see what this man looks like. What sort of last name is Wolf? I certainly hope he’s not a red Indian.”
With a sigh, Merry looked at the grumbling widow. “It’s an English name spelled with two Os. W-o-o-l-f. His letter accompanying payment for us to hold his room and office was well written and professionally worded.”
Which didn’t prove anything, except that the man had been educated. They had such a nice family-like group in the boardinghouse currently. In spite of the fact that the boarders were older than her and Polly, Merry couldn’t help feeling the mother to the group. She hoped this Mr. Woolf would blend in well.
Chapter Two
Blake Woolf stepped off the train and assessed the town of Mockingbird Flats. He wished he could have visited Uncle George while the man was alive. Getting away from home even now had been a problem but he’d finally managed. Not only had his great uncle left him his legal practice, he’d included a small legacy that helped Blake’s mom—and made it possible for Blake to come here.
The stationmaster stopped in front of him. “I’m Michelson. You lost, son?”
He stuck out his hand. “Blake Woolf. Looking for the boardinghouse.”
The man shook hands but summed him up and down before answering, “They know you’re coming? Can’t be sure of a room if they don’t.”
“They’re expecting me.”
Michelson nodded. “That’s all right then. One block that way, west.”
“Anyone who can deliver my trunk there?”
“Yancey Cameron will. Does odd jobs. I’ll send him round with your gear.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your help.”
The man forked a thumb in a westerly direction. “Yep, you head thataway. Used to be a hotel. You can’t miss it.”
Blake wondered why people always added “you can’t miss it” to directions when usually they were wrong. In spite of his misgivings, he hadn’t gone far before he spotted the boardinghouse. Nice looking place, three stories high and looked to have been recently painted.
Pleasure shot through him when he spotted what would be his office on the front’s east side, Davis Law Office. He’d have the name changed but not for a few months until after people got used to him. For now he would have his name added in smaller letters underneath the present ones.
He strode up the walk and opened the front door. A room full of people stared at him. Wonderful aromas drifted toward him and reminded him he’d missed lunch.
One of the prettiest women he’d ever met hurried toward him. Her light brown hair was styled in a bun at the back but several locks had escaped to curl near her face. She was tall and willowy and moved gracefully.
Her pleasing smile and her sparkling dark blue eyes welcomed him. “You must be Mr. Woolf. I’m Merry Bird. My sister Polly and I are the boardinghouse owners.”
He recognized her name from their correspondence but he was surprised at her age. She must be younger than he was. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bird. You’ve saved my uncle’s room?”
She reached behind a counter and handed him a set of keys. “It’s number one at the top of the stairs on the right. Actually, it’s over your office. If you’d like to go up, you have just enough time to put your bag in your room and refresh yourself before supper.”
He climbed the stairs behind her, admiring the sway of her shapely hips. When he unlocked the door, the room was larger than he’d expected.
She stood in the hall but gestured inside. “You can see we left your uncle’s belongings in the corner because we didn’t know what to do with them. If there are items you wish to save, we have a small amount of storage in the attic and more over the carriage house.”
“Thank you.” Pretty as she was, he hoped she wasn’t going to be intrusive.
She handed him a card that said Welcome to Mockingbird Flats Boardinghouse with some additional writing he hadn’t had time to absorb.
“You’ll see from this that breakfast is at seven, dinner at noon, and supper at six except on Sundays. I’ll let you settle in while I go about my business. Welcome to Mockingbird Flats.”
Before he could reply, she was disappearing down the stairs. He set his cases on the floor and poked into the armoire, chest of drawers, and washstand. An upholstered chair was in front of wide windows. Beside it was a table with a large lamp.
He pressed on the bed and found the mattress satisfactory. As usual, he’d have to sleep at an angle to kee
p his feet from hanging over the bed’s end. At least he wouldn’t have to share this one. The quilt on top appeared new, the burgundy and green pieces cheerful and masculine.
The arrangement and size were luxurious after his family’s crowded home. His uncle’s belongings were stacked neatly in one corner. He’d go through those another day. For now, aromas of food had his stomach rumbling.
A small woman appeared carrying a large pitcher. Her frizzy hair was an almost startling shade of orangish-red. “You’ll be wanting warm water for washing. Better hurry or you’ll be late for your supper.” She transferred water from the pitcher she carried to the one on his washstand.
“Thank you.…” she was gone before he learned her name.
When he arrived in the dining room, he was met by a different smiling woman than the one who’d greeted him. This blond was equally attractive as Merry Bird but didn’t create the same internal reaction in him.
“Mr. Woolf, I’m Polly Bird. Welcome to Mockingbird Flats Boardinghouse. Why don’t you sit at this table? Your late uncle shared his meals with these three gentlemen. Bass Barnell is our deputy marshal, Gideon Warren is the barber whose shop is opposite yours at the front, and John Allsup is our telegrapher. In fact, John’s the son of one of the very first telegraphers.”
She spoke low, “Gideon’s a little hard of hearing since serving in the war so please look at him when you speak so he can read your lips.”
Blake took his seat. “Nice to meet you.” Suddenly, he was tongue-tied. These men had known his uncle and he wondered what they thought of Uncle George and of him for not visiting.
At his right, Gideon met his gaze. The man looked to be in his fifties but already had gray hair. “Glad you’re carrying on for George. Fine man and losing him was a tragedy.”
Carefully he looked directly at the man. “Thank you. I was fond of him and wish I could have visited.”
Gideon waved a hand dismissively. “He explained about your mother needing you and what good care you took of her.”
Relief relaxed his taut muscles. Perhaps these men wouldn’t think him a poor nephew after all. He wanted their respect.
Orphan Train Brides Page 1