by Kit Morgan
Ophelia smiled. “Valentine’s Day? I’d forgotten all about it.”
“I didn’t,” Clint said and pulled a card from his jacket pocket. “I meant to give this to you later, but now’s as good a time as any.”
She took it from him. “Clint, this is beautiful!” She opened it and read:
I’ll love you always.
May we face life boldly together.
Love, Clint.
“Oh, thank you!”
He smiled. “I was lucky to get that. Mr. Fulton down at Cobb’s said he was almost sold out. I’m glad you like it.”
“I do,” she said, gazing into his eyes.
He kissed her, then turned to Chase. “Thank you, Reverend, for all your help. I’ll have to thank Mayor Hardt tomorrow.”
“Think nothing of it. And I’m sure Charlie will be glad to have you on board.”
Ophelia glanced between them. “For what?”
“Rev. Hammond suggested I invest in the silver mine. I have to have some way to support my wife. So I’ll go to Denver in a few days, get my money and take care of it, then decide what else I can do. I’ve been an agent for Wells Fargo for so long, I’m afraid I don’t know much else.”
“Don’t worry, you’re a smart man,” Chase said. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something for you.”
“I appreciate it, Reverend, I really do.” Clint shook the minister’s hand.
“You’re mighty welcome,” Chase said. “Well, it’s late, you’re married and my wife is about to fall asleep where she stands.”
Clint nodded. “Thanks again.”
Chase took Felicity by the hand and headed for the door. “Oh, and you might check out a piece of property about a mile south of town – big stand of pine trees, small meadow, little creek. I think it could do with a house on it. I’ve arranged a wagon for you at the livery for first thing in the morning.”
Ophelia and Clint exchanged happy smiles. “Thank you!” Clint said.
“But Clint,” Ophelia said, “how will we build a house?”
He smiled. “I do have a bit of money set aside, honey. Nothing like what your father has, but enough to build a house and invest in the mine.”
She felt a pang of sadness at the mention of her father, but she’d deal with that later. “I’ll have to write him and tell him we’re married.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“What? Why not?”
He kissed her. “Because we’re going to tell him together. I’ll be right there by your side. Whatever happens, I’ll always be with you, honey.”
Ophelia wrapped her arms around him and held him close, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him as Chase and Felicity quietly left and closed the door.
Sneak Peek
Jolie
Brides of Noelle
By
E.E. Burke
Chapter 1
February 8, 1877, Noelle, Colorado
Men were by nature self-centered, dishonest, unfaithful creatures, and the continued existence La Maison only proved this to be true. The parlor house hadn’t been shuttered a week before the men of Noelle were begging the mayor to allow it to reopen, in spite of a vigorous campaign undertaken by a contingent of new brides who’d circulated a petition calling for its permanent closure. The town council had tabled the matter, and when Jolie moved back in and opened for business, they turned a blind eye.
Men would be men.
“We’ll make sure they have no reason to close us down.” Jolie hung a sign on the freshly papered wall. House Rules: No fighting, no swearing, no spitting, no stealing. “Remind the girls upstairs this goes for them as well as the customers.”
The pretty, doe-eyed girl watching Jolie hang the sign nodded. She had an air of innocence about her, which increased her appeal to men, but made guessing her age difficult, especially when she didn’t speak.
“I know I don’t have to worry about you making trouble,” Jolie continued. “Half the time, no one knows you’re around.”
Angelique glanced in the direction of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. She communicated well enough when she wanted to.
“Yes, you can go if you’d like. We’re done tidying up for now, but be back down here at eight. We have important guests to entertain tonight. Mr. Stiles is bringing along two of the railroad officers who are in town for meetings with the mayor. Reportedly, they like to dance. Wear comfortable shoes. Oh! Before you go up, check in the kitchen with Milly and make sure we have enough bottles of claret and champagne, and the good bourbon whiskey.”
When she’d reopened La Maison, she’d made a deal with girls: keep the men drinking, so they could keep most of what they earned. Madame Bonheur, their former employer, had taken a hefty cut from what the girls had made, as well as pocketed all the profits from liquor. Jolie had resented her for it, and had sworn she would do things differently if she were ever in charge.
Now, she was in charge. She’d redecorated the house to make it feel more like home to the men who visited. Madame Bonheur had liked to put on airs. Not to mention, she’d broken most of the vases and crystal glassware when she’d gone on a drunken rampage this past Christmas. After trying to shoot the matchmaker, she had spent a week in jail and was only released after promising to leave town.
Good riddance.
A knock sounded on the front door.
“I’ll get that,” Jolie called out. She paused to check her hair in the mirror and smoothed down wayward strands. She hated the garish color it had turned after she’d tried to make it golden, and her face was as pale as a corpse. She bit her lips and pinched her cheeks, which didn’t really help, then grimaced at her reflection before she turned away. Hopefully, it was no one important. The regulars knew better than to call before noon.
If it did happen to be a customer, she’d call down one of the other girls to entertain him. That was one advantage of being the madam, not having to work upstairs in order to make a living. The worst part of being in the business was putting up with men that were, in a word, repulsive.
Jolie opened the door and sucked in a gasp.
The least repulsive man she’d ever seen stood on the front porch. Arresting blue eyes framed with dark lashes; rich brown hair, clean and shiny and just long enough to tempt a woman’s fingers to comb through it; smooth-shaven face with strong lines, yet too classic to be called rugged. He wore a clean, pressed suit—which put him in the minority in the rough mining town—and he held a large case, closed with leather straps. Next to him sat a huge brindle-colored dog.
A smile tugged at Jolie’s lips. She hadn’t seen a dog that large since she’d bid goodbye to her beloved childhood pet, Soldier. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t decide whether it was the man, or the dog, who was a more welcome sight.
“Good afternoon.” The man’s rich baritone sent shivers down Jolie’s spine. His gaze appeared to be trained on a spot a bit to the right, as if he were looking over her shoulder. She glanced back to see if Angelique stood behind her. No, no one else there.
“It’s not quite after noon,” she pointed out.
“Is this La Maison?” He appeared uncertain.
Could he not read the sign? She’d paid dearly to have a new one painted, and had even asked the French-speaking artist to create an image of a chateau. The idiot had painted a hat. Chapeau, he’d proclaimed proudly. It would’ve cost too much to repaint it, so maybe that’s what had confused the man standing at her door.
“Yes, this is La Maison. May I ask your business?”
“Yes, ma’am…or is it Miss?”
“Neither. It’s Jolie.”
His remarkable blue eyes shifted to her face and narrowed in a way that suggested he was evaluating her features. “As in très jolie?”
Ah, a smooth-talker, or he was having a joke at her expense. Either way, she didn’t appreciate it. “No, just Jolie.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hank Donovan, but just Hank will do. May I come in, Jolie?”
“Yes, of cour
se, just Hank.”
His lips twisted in amusement. How nice to know he could take a joke, as well as deliver one. Too many men were sadly lacking in humor, and she’d borne the bruises to prove it.
She moved out of the way so Hank could enter. Business was business, after all. She didn’t turn down a chance to make money, and neither did the other girls, especially when a customer looked as nice as this one.
“C’mon, Bear. We’re going in.” He gripped a c-shaped length of rope attached to the dog’s collar and the dog preceded him into in the entry, then stopped and waited.
“Bear has better manners than most of our customers,” Jolie observed. “And he smells better too. May I pet him?”
Hank reached down to stroke the dog’s head. “Let him smell you first.”
Jolie offered her hand, which the dog sniffed, then licked. She gave his master a knowing look. “Gee, I wonder who taught him to flirt?” Crouching down, she rubbed the dog’s head and face. “You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you?”
“Thank you,” Hank replied.
She looked up and arched an eyebrow at him. “I was talking to Bear.”
“Oh.” Amusement twinkled in Hank’s eyes.
Jolie’s enjoyment in the moment wavered. His teasing reminded her of the sweet-talking scoundrel who’d lured her away from home, only to betray her. She stood, brushing her hands on her apron to rid them of dog hair. “What can I do for you, Hank?” The man continued to stare at her, which made her feel awkward. Was he scrutinizing her clothing? What did he expect her to be wearing? Obviously, she’d been cleaning. If he didn’t like it maybe he should have made an appointment, or at least waited until later in the day to drop by.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’ve been told this is the best place in town.”
“That’s true.” And she was proud of it. The first madam might’ve established the house, but Jolie had brought it back from ruin and had made it so much better.
She noticed he hadn’t set down the suitcase, which might contain clothing, money, gold dust—who knew what—but she knew why he held onto it so tightly. It wasn’t uncommon for men to be relieved of their valuables by unscrupulous women. She ran an honest house though, and the men of Noelle knew that, so she assumed Hank must’ve recently arrived in town.
All the while, the dog sat patiently waiting, looking up at her with big brown eyes. She reached out to pet him and he pushed his cold nose into her palm.
Hank responded to the tug on the leash by tightening his grip, but he didn’t pull the dog back. He moved closer and his smile broadened, revealing twin dimples. “Bear doesn’t usually take to folks quite so fast. You must be special.”
She jerked her attention away from the fascinating indentations in his cheeks and took a step backwards. Was he poking fun at her again? Hank was hard to read, and that bothered her. Most of the time, she could size up a man within the first few minutes of meeting him. This one gave off mixed signals—one minute, he was flirtatious, the next polite, but then he seemed almost mean, or was he being sarcastic?
“No, I’m not special, but I do run this house. Do you want a woman?”
“A woman?” His dark brows lifted in a look of surprise, then gathered in confusion, as if he hadn’t understood what she asked. He looked around, and an expression flickered across his face that could only be described as embarrassed frustration. Then he recovered the teasing smile. “Does one come with the room?”
Was he trying to be funny? Playing a prank?
“Yes, you get a room with a woman for as long as it takes to finish your business,” Jolie responded dryly.
Hank’s cheeks colored, her first real hint he wasn’t having a laugh at her expense. “This isn’t a hotel, I take it.”
Oh God. Jolie pursed her lips and fought to restrain a laugh. Was he serious? Well, yes, he must be to look that embarrassed. “Who told you that?”
Hank frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t recall their names, but I was told it was by some men at the Golden Nugget.”
Jolie harrumphed. Those miners must’ve thought it would be funny to send Hank and his big dog over here, suspecting Bear would scare the bejesus out of her, and everyone would get a big laugh... except for her. And Hank. “Miners can’t be trusted.”
“So it seems.” Hank’s smile returned, though this time, it was slightly crooked, which made it all the more alluring. Jolie returned his smile, self-consciously smoothing her hair. Wait, what was she doing? A good-looking man crossed her threshold, and she was all but drooling over him. She had better sense than that, she scolded herself, then cleared her throat. “So now that you know it’s not a hotel, are you still interested?”
He squinted at her. “Yes, I think I am.”
Perhaps he needed spectacles. That would explain why he’d seemed a little unsure when he stepped inside, and probably why he stared at her so intently. She propped her hands on her hips, back to business. “All right, then all that remains to be discussed is price.”
“Ah, well then…” He glanced down at the case, still clutching the handle. “I might have to barter. Until I make my sales, I don’t have much in the way of cash money.”
“We take gold too.” Curious, she eyed the hefty suitcase. “What do you have to offer?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “An item that makes women very happy.”
“Do tell,” she returned in dry tone.
He lifted the case to his chest. “I should show you. Will you take me to my room?”
Oh, but he was a clever one. That’s why he was playing innocent and flashing those dimples; he thought he could lure her into giving away her services for free, then he’d open the suitcase and offer her something worthless, like those fake medicines hawked by the last salesman who’d come through town.
She wasn’t falling for that, and she hadn’t intended on going upstairs with him anyway. “Let me call down one of the girls and let them decide if what you have in that case is worth their time.”
Disappointment flickered across his features as he lowered the case. For some reason, she longed to smooth the tiny crease between his brows. “No, don’t call anyone. I’ve changed my mind. What I’m interested in bartering for apparently isn’t available.”
Oh no, that puppy-dog face wasn’t working. She wasn’t letting a silver-tongued devil talk his way into her bed. Just thinking about it made her heart beat faster, which was warning enough.
“How do you know?” She maintained the illusion they were talking about someone other than her. “You haven’t even seen the girls yet.”
Hank gave her a wry smile. “I can’t see them, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Jolie responded with halfhearted laugh. “Maybe you should wear your spectacles.”
“I’ve tried spectacles. They don’t make any difference.”
She stared at him. At first, the remark didn’t make much sense, then she realized his gaze had continued to shift slightly off to the side, never truly making contact with her eyes. Impossible. Could it be...?
“You…you mean you can’t…” she stammered. “Are you blind?”
“At the moment, more than I want to admit.”
Her heart constricted as his expression turned regretful, and a hot flush rushed into her face. She shouldn’t have just blurted that out, but what the hell did he expect?
Then again, what did she expect? He’d had no reason to announce on the doorstep that he was blind. He hadn’t misled her. She’d assumed he could see…and she had also assumed he was a fraud and a flatterer, and knew she could be just as wrong about that as well.
“C’mon boy.” Hank and his dog turned to leave, which shook Jolie out of her shocked state.
She slipped past them and stood in front of the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“No need to apologize.”
She had an irresistible urge to reach out and trace his kind smile with her fingertips. His honest face and intrigui
ng air of innocence might not be faked either. Hank could be exactly what he appeared to be: charming, witty and, yes, endearing.
Now she could see him so much more clearly, but he still couldn’t see her. Ha! Maybe that explained why he hadn’t immediately run away. What it didn’t explain though, was why she’d caught his interest in the first place. Most likely, he was only interested in one thing. She could give him that, and why not? She owed him a kindness after being so rude. It didn’t hurt he had an attractive personality to go along with that handsome face. She just had to remember he was still a man, blind or not, and he’d be no different from all the other men.
Fortunately, she was certain she could perform her job without any emotions becoming involved.
About the Author
Kit Morgan has been writing for fun all of her life. Her whimsical stories are fun, inspirational, sweet and clean, and depict a strong sense of family and community. Raised by a homicide detective one would think she’d write suspense, but no. Kit likes fun and romantic westerns! Kit resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in a little log cabin on Clear Creek, for which the fictional town from her Prairie Brides and Prairie Grooms series is named.