Ophelia: A Valentine's Day Bride (Brides of Noelle, Love For All Seasons Book 1)

by Kit Morgan

  Ophelia

  Brides of Noelle, Book 1

  Kit Morgan

  Contents

  License Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  ANGEL CREEK PRESS

  Ophelia

  A Valentine’s Day Bride

  (Brides of Noelle, Love for All Seasons)

  by Kit Morgan

  © 2018 Kit Morgan

  To sign up for Kit’s newsletter and find out about upcoming books and other fun stuff, click here.

  To check out Kit’s complete collection of stories, click here.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press and EDH Designs.

  License Note

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Noelle, Colorado, February 6th, 1877

  Ophelia Penelope Rathbone glanced around as she stepped onto the wooden boardwalk. This was Noelle, the pristine paradise of new beginnings her good friend wrote of? And what about where she lived? Her eyes traveled to the sign gracing the front of the building across the street. THE GOLDEN NUGGET SALOON, it read.

  “If you’ll follow me, ma’am,” her escort said, “I’ll take you to the Hammonds.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you …” She stopped, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Woody, ma’am. Woody Burnside.” He tipped his hat, then hefted her trunk onto one shoulder.

  “And you’re sure this is where my friend Felicity is residing?” she asked weakly.

  “Until the new church and parsonage are built, I’m afraid so. But Rev. Hammond don’t mind – he’s lived over the saloon ever since he got here. Mrs. Hammond don’t mind none either, now that she’s made their room up real pretty. I hear you’ll have your own room.”

  Ophelia blushed. “Yes, of course. I can’t very well stay in theirs, now can I?”

  Woody smiled. “No, ma’am. It’s bad enough the reverend’s snoring keeps Mrs. Hammond awake. No sense it keeping you awake too.”

  Ophelia covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She hadn’t expected a comment like that. “No, that wouldn’t do at all.”

  Woody grinned, readjusted his load and picked his way through the mud and slush. He’d had to park across the street, as the several wagons in front of the saloon left little room for his. For such a tiny place, Ophelia was surprised at the number of people in town. Wagons were everywhere, along with men, horses, mules, even a dog or two. “My, but this is a busy place.”

  “Sure is, ma’am,” Woody said, steering around a fresh pile of horse manure. “Watch your step.”

  “Oh dear, yes.” She did the same. “I can’t thank you enough for fetching me for the Hammonds. It was very kind of you, Mr. Burnside.”

  “Think nothing of it, ma’am. Glad to be of service to Chase and Felicity.”

  “You know them?”

  “’Course I know them. Everyone in town does – unless they’re new, of course.” He reached the other side and waited for her to catch up. “We do got quite a few newcomers all of a sudden.”

  She turned and looked at the hustle and bustle around them. “I see that.” She faced him again. “I suppose that’s why Felicity dubbed this ‘a paradise of new beginnings’ and insisted I come.”

  He smiled. “New beginnings is right, ma’am. Now let’s get you inside – it’s too cold out here for what you’re wearing.”

  Ophelia glanced at her blue day dress and the dark blue cape she wore over it. He was right – the wool was warm, but she’d been outside for too long, and currently couldn’t feel her toes. “Does it snow a lot here, Mr. Burnside?”

  “Enough, ma’am. But not enough to keep the railroad out.”

  “Yes, isn’t it exciting?”

  He opened the door to the saloon and motioned her inside. “Sure is. They start laying tracks in the spring.”

  She turned and smiled at him, catching only part of what he’d said. It was noisier inside than out. Until she turned around again – then every eye locked on her, and the noise dwindled to almost nothing.

  Ophelia gasped. She’d never had so many men staring at her at once. At twenty-two with a petite figure, dark hair and violet eyes, she was accustomed to having men look at her. But not these types of men. These weren’t Denver high-society gentlemen – these were miners and ranchers and who knew what other rough fellows. She swallowed hard. “Mr. Burnside,” she said, voice wavering. “Where do we go now?”

  Woody nodded toward a staircase at the other end of the saloon. “Up them stairs, ma’am.”

  She looked at the men’s hungry eyes, shivered, then squared her shoulders and, chin up, marched past the onlookers straight to the staircase.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” the bartender called in an Irish brogue. “Mrs. Hammond will be right happy ye’ve arrived. I’ll put some coffee on for the two of ye.”

  Ophelia stopped, one foot on the bottom step. “Thank you, sir,” she said delicately.

  The barkeep smiled as several men nearby sighed at the sound. “Best be on yer way, lass.”

  She glanced at the dozens of eyes on her and gulped. “Yes, I’d better. Come along, Mr. Burnside.” If it wasn’t so unladylike, she’d hike up her skirts and take the stairs two at a time, but that was out of the question in this venue. Nonetheless, she hurried to the top and waited for Mr. Burnside. “Which way now?” she asked when he caught up.

  “That way, ma’am.” He nodded to his right. “First door on the left.”

  But that door opened before she could take a step and Felicity Partridge – now Hammond – ran out of the room. “Ophelia!”

  “Felicity!” The women embraced as the noise and ruckus downstairs resumed.

  “Where do you want these, Felicity?” Woody asked.

  “Felicity?” Ophelia said in surprise and stepped away. “He calls you by your Christian name?”

  Felicity smiled. “Woody and his wife Meizhen are friends of ours.”

  “Forgive me,” she said to Woody. “I didn’t know.” She turned back to Felicity. “I thought he was simply doing you a favor picking me up at the train station.”

  “Woody is a kind soul,” Felicity said. “But we don’t have a wagon ourselves, you see.”

  “Oh.” Ophelia smiled at Woody, then peeked over the banister to the saloon below. “Nor a parsonage either …”

  “No, but we’re working on it.” Felicity took her by the hand. “Come with me.”

  Ophelia let herself be led as Woody followed. They went past Feli
city’s room and onto the next. Felicity opened the door. “Here we are. You’ll have use of this room for as long as you like.”

  Ophelia stopped short of the door and took a breath. Oh dear Lord. It was the ugliest room she’d ever seen. The furniture was as rough-hewn as that in the saloon below – a dresser, a cot, a washstand and one chair. The walls were unpainted, plastered a dull gray. The floor was bare wood, not even a rug.

  She had to remind herself that she’d come here of her own free will. No one had forced her as they had Felicity, whose father gave her the choice between jail and becoming a mail-order bride – she was here at Felicity’s invitation. She could have stayed in Denver surrounded by comfort, warmth, good food and servants, but she wanted to further the cause of women. Who better to do that with than Felicity Hammond, Denver’s former beacon of hope for women everywhere?

  Said beacon had failed to inform her she’d be sleeping on a cot over a saloon full of rowdies.

  Felicity cleared her throat. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but we’ll have it spruced up in no time.”

  “Yes, of course.” Ophelia smiled weakly and shivered again. Was this room actually colder than the hallway? Oh dear.

  Woody set her trunk in a corner, turned to Felicity and smiled. “I’d best be getting back to work.”

  “Thank you so much, Woody,” Felicity said, pulling something out of her skirt pocket and taking his hand. “Please accept this. I know you have your animals to take care of.”

  “Oh, ma’am, I can’t take anything for fetching your friend.”

  “We know you’re a busy man, Woody. Please – consider it a gift.”

  Ophelia watched the man blush. She liked him. He was nicer than scores of men she’d known in Denver. “Shucks, Felicity … Meizhen and I thank you kindly.” He tipped his hat and quickly left the room.

  “My,” Ophelia said. “He’s a pleasant one.”

  “Yes, we don’t know what we’d do around here without men like him. There are a lot of nice gentlemen in Noelle.” She crossed to the washstand and picked up the pitcher. “There are also those that … aren’t.”

  Ophelia’s eyes darted to the door. “Are they … all here to mine?”

  “Yes, and there are a lot of them – more and more every day. And there’s the railroad people, of course, but we’ve only had a few move in so far.” Felicity joined her at the door, pitcher in hand. “Come to my room – I’m sure by now Seamus has made some coffee.”

  “The bartender? Yes, he mentioned something about coffee as I came upstairs. I had no idea bartenders did such things.”

  “Ours does,” Felicity said proudly and left the room.

  Ophelia followed her to the room they’d passed earlier and once again stopped short – but for a different reason. “Felicity!”

  Her friend smiled. “I know, it’s much nicer than yours. But I’ve been working on it ever since Chase and I married.”

  Ophelia walked to the middle of the room and marveled. What a difference between this and the one next door. It was bigger, too. “Lovely wallpaper. How did you manage it?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Felicity told her. “These walls are very rough.”

  “And a mirror.” Ophelia admired the looking glass on the wall near the door. There was a simple yet elegant table in the center of the room with two chairs, a small desk underneath one of the two windows, even an armoire in one corner. “What a nice quilt,” she remarked, pointing to the bed.

  “Thank you,” Felicity said. “A wedding gift from my parents.”

  Ophelia’s smile was heartfelt. “Do you hear from them much?”

  “I haven’t been here long enough to say.” Felicity crossed to the window by the desk. “I’ve received only two letters from them, and one came with the quilt. There’s not been time for much more.”

  “True. Look at us – two letters and here I am.”

  Felicity went to Ophelia and hugged her. “I’m so glad! We can do so much good here, you and I!”

  “More than in Denver, I’m sure,” Ophelia said. “Sometimes there it was like beating your head against a woodpile. All my good work gone just like that, because Father didn’t agree with me.”

  Felicity nodded in sympathy. “I understand that. Look what happened to me.”

  “True, but your husband the reverend’s a forward-thinking man, isn’t he?”

  Felicity made a face. “Well …”

  “Oh, Felicity! Don’t tell me he won’t let you further the cause?”

  “He lets me … so long as it doesn’t land me in jail.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. “You haven’t … oh dear me, you didn’t …”

  “No, no. Not yet, anyway. Besides, our sheriff isn’t one to toss a woman in jail unless it’s for something more serious than disturbing the peace.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. When do we start?”

  Felicity pulled out a chair at the table and sat. “First we need to get organized. Then we need to recruit. The good news is, some of the other women in town have already set their minds on improving things around here. Mrs. Stiles and Mrs. Sharp, specifically - they’re both married to railroad men.”

  “Are they? Well, that has to count for something.” Ophelia removed her cloak and draped it over the back of the other chair. “Who else do you have in mind?”

  “All the brides I came to Noelle with. Though getting them away from their husbands and new homes long enough might be difficult.”

  “Hmm, yes – newlyweds, after all.” Ophelia looked at Felicity and smiled. “What’s it like being married?”

  Felicity smiled. “The most wonderful thing in the world, Ophey.”

  Ophelia laughed. “You haven’t called me that in years. What brought it to mind?”

  Felicity shrugged. “I don’t know – your new beginning, I guess. But don’t start calling me Felice. I let Chase call me that, and I want him to think it’s special to him.” She sighed. “And because … well, there’s a woman who works here in town at one of the brothels who goes by that name. I’d hate anyone to get us mixed up.”

  “Oh dear. How did you find out about her?”

  “It is a small town. And because of the current ‘cause’ the new women in town have started. It’s one of the reasons I’m glad you’re here – I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Ophelia nodded, a bit confused. “All right, no calling you Felice. Now, about the other brides – what are they like?”

  Felicity sat back in her chair and smiled. “Sit down and I’ll tell you …”

  After a couple of hours of catching up and several cups of coffee, Ophelia was excited and exhausted. The tales of the twelve mail-order brides was entertaining and fraught with adventure, more for some than others. “My goodness! All of that happened in less than two weeks?” she asked Felicity.

  “Yes, hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “But the railroad is coming.”

  “Yes, they begin construction in the spring.”

  Ophelia nodded as her eyes settled on the window. “Mr. Burnside mentioned that. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

  “You’re tired. We should make up your bed so you can lie down.”

  “Thank you.” Ophelia went to the window and stared at the street below. “You realize I can’t go back.”

  Felicity nodded. “I thought as much. Your father?”

  “Yes. He threw me out.”

  “Oh, Ophey, I’m sorry. Can you reconcile?”

  She shrugged. “Eventually, perhaps. But for now … he’s not speaking to me. He thinks I’m daft.”

  “For striving for something you believe in? How can he say such a thing?”

  “I believe in the cause as much as you do, but he doesn’t. His only ‘cause’ is to make money. Sometimes I loathe the stuff.”

  “Yes, but in Denver you also spent it, as did I.”

  Ophelia grimaced. “Not as much as I did, I’m afraid. And now I’m cut off without a penny.”


  “No!”

  “Yes.” Ophelia returned to her chair and sat. “Oh, Felicity, what am I going to do? I know I should have told you in my letter what really happened, that my coming wasn’t only for the cause, but that I had no place else to go.”

  Felicity shook her head and took Ophelia’s hand. “Never mind about that – what’s done is done. I’m sure you can find a way to support yourself in time. For now, don’t worry. Besides, I need your help organizing things around here. If we’re going to make this town respectable, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “I’ll show you around tomorrow and let you settle in. Then we’ll set up a meeting with some of the other brides. Those able to come can fill in those who aren’t.”

  Ophelia smiled. “Thank you. Working alongside you again will make everything all worthwhile.”

  Felicity smiled back. “Good. Now let’s go see what we can do with your room.”

  Chapter Two

  Noelle, Colorado, February 7th 1877

  First entry.

  I have arrived in Noelle and so far find it to be exactly what my colleagues and I envisioned. Miners are coming into town, answering the call of silver, and the confidence men are sure to follow if not already here. They’ll no doubt make my job more difficult, but I should be able to tell who’s who.

  Charles Hardt is the mayor of this cacophony of commerce, and I aim to meet with him as soon as I’m able. As planned, I will not reveal my true purpose here until deemed absolutely necessary …