The Matchmaker of Fairfield: (Clean Historical Western Romance)

by Marie O'Keanan

  “You scared me,” Ivy said. “I suppose I wasn’t thinking.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me,” Bridget said with a secret smile Ivy had also come to know. Bridget smiled like that when she was in a scheming mood.

  “What did it look like?” Ivy asked hesitantly.

  “It looked like you were thinking too much,” Bridget replied, her smile widening.

  “Maybe I was,” Ivy said. She looked down at the ground feeling almost guilty. After all, it should not be so difficult for her to reign in her feelings for Elijah.

  “You’d best get back to the Bellows table,” Bridget said. “Their water glasses are nearly empty and...I think Elijah has begun to miss you.”

  Bridget’s smile remained even as Ivy gave her a significant and critical look.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Ivy said. All the same, she grasped the water pitcher from the counter and made her way through the door and towards the Bellows table.

  Elijah’s face broke out into a smile that Ivy found herself hoping was genuine. It certainly proved to be infectious. She felt a bright smile crawl across her own face as she approached them.

  Her first instinct was to move to Elijah first. But, then, she reminded herself that she had to keep a firm and professional distance from the man as much as she was able. So, she went to his brother, Mark and began to refill his water glass.

  “Ivy,” Elijah said suddenly. “I’ve noticed you’ve been staying behind the bar more and more these days.”

  “Yes,” Ivy answered without looking at him. “Bridget’s taken over most of the serving. It seems to work better that way.”

  “But, you still serve us every time we come in,” he said sounding vaguely curious.

  Ivy felt her heart speed up again, this time with anxiety. It was as though he had caught her in some kind of trap. She took a deep breath before answering.

  “Bridget has a bit of a headache today,” Ivy said. “She says the light from the window where you sit doesn’t help. So, she asked me to take over for her.”

  “Either way, I’m not complaining,” though Ivy still didn’t dare look at Elijah, she could hear the smile in his voice as she moved from Mark’s now full water glass over to refill Elijah’s.

  “I don’t mind being served by the prettiest girl in town,” Elijah said. This time, Ivy couldn’t help looking up at him. Those blue eyes were sparkling at her and her heart couldn’t seem to help but beat a little more quickly in her chest.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said shyly as she poured for him. All the same, a smile lingered on her face.

  “That’s true enough,” Mark answered. “I heard him try the same line on Emily Bunting last night.”

  Ivy felt her heart drop as she carefully looked over to Elijah to see his reaction. His face fell and his cheeks turned red as he looked over to his brother.

  “I didn’t know anyone was listening to that,” he muttered quietly, as though ashamed.

  “Well, then,” Mark said. “You should be more careful about where you stage your rendezvous.”

  Ivy felt a violent jolt in her stomach which, unfortunately, translated to her hands. She heard the glass begin to slip before she saw it happening. Quickly, she reached out her hand to catch it. Apparently, Elijah had reached out his at the same time.

  His hand landed on top of hers and Ivy felt another jolt in her stomach as she forced herself to look up at him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bellows,” she said quietly.

  “Not at all,” Elijah said. She expected him to smile as he always did. But he didn’t. He was looking at her with a frown as though concerned.

  “Are you alright, Ivy?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes,” Ivy said quickly. “I think the sun may have blinded me for a moment. I’ll go check on your lunch.”

  Taking her hand from the glass, removing it from the warmth of Elijah’s palm, Ivy hurried through the back door.

  Instead of moving into the kitchen to fetch the Bellows plates, as she promised, she rushed outside and leaned against the wooden siding of the tavern. Immediately, she felt Rosie’s wet nose nudge against her hand.

  Ivy looked down at the dog whose tongue was lolled out and tail was wagging back and forth, clearly expecting Ivy to pet her.

  Ivy sank down the the dog’s level and threw her arms around Rosie’s neck. Rosie gently placed her chin on Ivy’s shoulder.

  Once again, Ivy closed her eyes, praying with all her strength that tears would not begin to fall down her cheeks.

  Why should she cry, after all?

  She knew who Elijah Bellows was. She had always known that he played his little flirtatious games with half the girls in the town. But, these past few weeks, with Bridget telling her there was hope, and with Elijah looking into her eyes with what seemed like genuine affection, she’d begun to hope for something more from him.

  It only took one joke about another girl in town to make her realize just how foolish that was.

  Chapter Three- Bridget

  It was Thursday night. That meant it was the one night a week, aside from Sunday, that Bridget did not have to serve at the tavern.

  Since before Bridget has arrived in Fairfield, Thursday nights were traditionally (though unofficially) reserved for the logging men from the mill. It was the only chance the loggers had during the week in which to “let loose” as it were. Often the revelry lasted late into the night and even spilled into the streets.

  Asa Bracken realized early on that it was unseemly, bordering on scandalous, to allow young, unmarried ladies to serve men in that environment. So, he had taken to working the bar on his own on Thursday evenings while Ivy and Bridget were given the night to themselves.

  Tonight, even Mrs. Paulson had been given the night off, though, she was less than happy about this. Annabeth, the only other girl staying at the boarding house had insisted upon cooking dinner.

  Bridget and Ivy heard the girl banging about in the kitchen while they sat in the parlor. Mrs. Paulson sat next to them wringing her hands as though worried the house would explode at any moment.

  “Dear, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Mrs. Paulson called to Annabeth in the kitchen for, what felt like, the hundredth time.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Paulson,” Annabeth called out. “In a few minutes, we should be ready to set the table.”

  Mrs. Paulson gave a skeptical little cluck and a shake of her head before returning to her knitting, of which she had done very little since Annabeth entered the kitchen.

  Bridget attempted to return her attention back to her novel (“Emma” by Jane Austen. One of her favorites) but found her attention was caught, not by Mrs. Paulson’s periodic clucking, but by Ivy’s silence.

  Ivy sat next to Mrs. Paulson on the parlor couch, needlework in her lap. Though she, like Mrs. Paulson, hardly seemed focused on it. Periodically, her eyes would wander to the window that overlooked the tavern and she would heave a sad little sigh.

  Bridget could not help but notice that Ivy had been that way all day. In fact, if she was honest, she’d caught Ivy sighing and unfocused more than once since yesterday.

  And, tracing the behavior back, Bridget thought she had landed on the reason for it.

  Of course, Ivy had always been quiet. Reluctant to speak and even more reluctant to reveal even her most intense feelings. But, these sighs and lack of focus were new. They had only come on after Ivy had served Elijah Bellows and his brother, Mark, the day before.

  Clearly, something had happened during that service to upset her. But, Bridget was at a complete loss as to what that might be.

  She decided that her only recourse would be to try as best she could.

  “Did Elijah Bellows visit Rosie today?” she asked.

  Ivy gave a little jump at the mention of Elijah’s name. Her face colored and she gave a little shake of her head.

  “Not today,” she said. “He came in yesterday with his brother. He said hello to Rosi
e before leaving.”

  Yes, Bridget had remembered that. Elijah had insisted on going outside with Ivy to check on “their girl”, Rosie. Bridget also remembered that was when Ivy had begun acting strangely.

  Clearly this new mood had something to do with Elijah’s visit the day before. But, the more she looked at Ivy now, the more she realized that she was not going to get an answer out of her. Not even by bringing up the dog that they shared between them.

  Perhaps she should try a more direct approach.

  “Does Elijah Bellows usually go the tavern with his men on Thursday nights?” She asked.

  “I’m sure I couldn’t say,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I don’t pay much mind to the goings on at the tavern on Thursday nights. Nor should you girls if you’ve any sense.”

  Mrs. Paulson looked at Bridget sharply as though concerned that her simple question about Elijah Bellows might somehow taint the reputation of the entire boarding house.

  Bridget simply nodded and turned her eyes back to her book. She should have known better than to ask Mrs. Paulson. The older landlady was careful to avoid any activity or even talk that might cause scandal. She was proud that her house had a reputation for being home to respectable young ladies and she was eager that it should remain that way. Especially with the changes she continually reminded the girls were taking place in the town.

  The introduction of the railroad had brought a lot of new business to Fairfield. Including at least one house rumored to be one of ill repute. Mrs. Paulson was eager to ensure that her residence was never connected with such goings on.

  “I think Elijah goes to the tavern on Thursdays,” a quiet voice said from the corner.

  The sound was so unexpected that Bridget’s hand slipped slightly from her book, almost causing it to topple from her hands. When she went to retrieve it, she saw Ivy give her a slight, apologetic smile.

  “There’s been talk of him going there. Sometimes with girls,” Ivy continued. Her voice growing even smaller.

  “Where on earth would you have heard about that?” Mrs. Paulson asked Ivy, apparently scandalized.

  “Annabeth mentioned it a few days ago,” Ivy said with a shrug. Her face was still pink when she turned her eyes back to her needlework.

  “Well then,” Mrs. Paulson said, her suspicious eyes now turned on Ivy. “I suppose I will have to have a talk about the dangers of gossip with Annabeth as well.”

  Even with Mrs. Paulson’s admonition ringing in her ears, Bridget found her heart give an excited little jump.

  Annabeth, the girl currently trying her hand at fixing dinner in the kitchen, apparently, knew enough about the comings and goings of Elijah Bellows to keep Ivy informed of them. And, if Bridget was to help guide Elijah and Ivy towards each other, she would have to know a great deal more about Elijah Bellows than she did currently.

  It was clear that neither Mrs. Paulson or Ivy were going to be much help in that regard. Mrs. Paulson would regard any attempt on Bridget’s part to learn anything about Elijah as gossip and summarily ban it from their conversation. And, Bridget knew that Ivy was not likely to say much more about Elijah than she had to.

  But, Annabeth…

  At that moment, a crash was heard from the kitchen. It sounded as though ten pots had been thrown down at once.

  Mrs. Paulson let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Annabeth, are you sure you don’t need any help?” the older woman asked.

  “It was only a small slip,” Annabeth’s clear voice sounded from the kitchen. “I’m all right now.”

  Mrs. Paulson glanced in the direction of the kitchen none the less as though attempting to decide whether or not to set her needlework aside and go into the kitchen herself. Bridget recognized both the look as well as her opportunity.

  “I’ll go and check in on her if you like, Mrs. Paulson,” Bridget said quickly, standing from her chair and setting her book down on the table.

  A nod from the landlady was all Bridget needed. Without waiting for another word to be said, she made her way through the swinging double doors and into the kitchen.

  Once there, she had to stop herself from laughing outright at the sight before her. Annabeth, her blonde hair falling limply about her shoulders was hopping on one foot while simultaneously trying to remove a pot from her shoe.

  Several other pots were strewn on the floor around the girl. And, it looked as though several tears of frustration had streamed down Annabeth’s face.

  “I don’t suppose you could use some help here?” Bridget asked.

  Annabeth gasped when she looked up to see Bridget standing in the kitchen doorway. Her face colored as she removed the pot from her foot and placed both on the ground, stumbling against a copper pot as she did.

  “I was sure I could do it on my own,” Annabeth admitted, still looking a little shamefaced.

  “Nothing wrong with asking for help from time to time,” Bridget said moving towards Annabeth and beginning to clear the pots scattered around her feet.

  “Just promise that you won’t tell Mrs. Paulson about the mess I’ve made,” Annabeth said.

  “Don’t worry,” Bridget answered. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  The girls worked together to salvage dinner. Annabeth set to cleaning the spilled sauce from the counter tops while Bridget continued cooking, occasionally consulting the now stained recipe book Annabeth had set out.

  Neither girl appeared to have much talent in the kitchen. Bridget’s mother had been too busy to teach her to make the meals she served the family. And, Bridget was always too busy looking after her brothers and sisters to pay attention to the way in which her mother prepared the meals.

  Annabeth confided to Bridget that she had grown up in a fairly wealthy family. They had always employed a cook. It wasn’t until Annabeth was grown that the family fell on hard times. By that time, the idea of learning to cook was completely foreign to her.

  Nevertheless, the girls soon fell into a rhythm. Annabeth read the recipe aloud and Bridget rushed to follow it.

  It was only after they set the meat in the coal oven to cook that Bridget felt comfortable bringing up the main reason for her entering the kitchen.

  “I suppose most of the men from the log mill will be at the tavern tonight,” Bridget said.

  “Oh, yes,” Annabeth answered. “It’s been that way ever since I’ve been here. The men will go to the old tavern on Thursday nights, drink themselves into oblivion. Sometimes get into fights. The brawls are always the talk of the town the next day.”

  “What do they fight about?” asked Bridget, now too curious about the subject of barroom brawls to remember what she needed to ask about Elijah Bellows.

  “Cards and tables normally,” Annabeth said. “Though, occasionally a bad fight will break out over a girl.”

  “I don’t suppose many girls go to the tavern on Thursdays,” Bridget said carefully.

  “No. Not many,” Annabeth said. “Not girls who value their reputation, anyway. Though there are some who are...less careful.”

  The way Annabeth said this made Bridget feel as though the other girl was eagerly inviting more questions.

  “Girls like...Emily Bunting?” Bridget asked carefully.

  “I suppose Ivy mentioned her to you,” Annabeth said.

  “In passing,” Bridget answered.

  “Well, she’s not wrong,” Annabeth said. “Miss Bunting is known to be rather free with her affections. And I know she used to go to the tavern with her fiance, Brian O'Connell on Thursday nights.”

  “I did not realize she was engaged,” Bridget said. Now, both surprised and more than a bit intrigued. If this Emily Bunting was running about town with other men while she was known to be engaged, clearly, she did not care at all for her reputation.

  “Apparently she’s not anymore,” Annabeth said, unable to hide the eager smile on her face as she leaned towards Bridget over the counter. “The word around town is that she’s broken off her engagement to Mr. O’connel
l. Now, she’s trying to get her hooks into Elijah Bellows. He’s worth twice as much as O'Connell is. And Emily was always one to go after the biggest fish in the pond.”

  Bridget felt her heart fall a bit at that. For a brief moment, she thought that if Miss Bunting was engaged, Elijah could not be serious about her. That left plenty of room for Ivy. But, now, if this little gold digger (which is exactly what Emily Bunting sounded like to Bridget) had set her sights on Elijah, she would not give him up without a fight.

  Still, no matter how a girl schemed the responsibility for serious romance still rested with the man.

  “And, how does Elijah feel about miss Bunting?” Bridget asked cautiously.

  “Who can say?” Annabeth said with a shrug. “Elijah Bellows has been known to be rather free with his affections as well. One girl never seems to hold his interest for long.”

  Bridget nodded, her lips pursed. That was an issue that would have to be overcome as well. It certainly would not do for Bridget to saddle Ivy with a man who would not be true to her. And Ivy was certainly not the sort of girl who would enjoy being tossed aside after a brief romance.

  The meat finished cooking and came out of the oven slightly burned but none the worse for wear. With several words of thanks to Bridget, Annabeth ushered her out of the kitchen with instructions to ready the table.

  When Bridget made her way out of the kitchen doors, plates and silverware in hand, Mrs. Paulson was already waiting for her in the dining room.

  “You girls were in there longer than expected,” the matron said.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Bridget answered. “The meal turned out to be just a bit more complicated than expected.”

  “You should have allowed me to help,” Mrs. Paulson said.

  “No need to trouble yourself now,” Bridget added, setting five places at the dining table. “Annabeth and I have sorted it out.”

  “Are you sure you girls didn’t simply get caught up in conversation?” Mrs. Paulson asked.

  “I suppose we may have,” Bridget admitted.