Mail Order Merchant_Brides of Beckham, Page 2

  She turned back to her knitting, determined to make a couple pairs of socks before she arrived in Colorado. A man who had been a widower “for some time” would need new socks. What better gift could she bring him than the gift of warm feet?

  As her fingers flew through her task, she couldn’t stop thinking of the strange woman who’d sat beside her. How had she known so much?

  Mortimer had what was left of his hair smoothed back perfectly—at least until he started running his fingers through it. He couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He’d been waiting for this day for what seemed like forever, so shouldn’t he simply be excited?

  He wore his best suit as he stood in front of the train platform, waiting for his bride to emerge from the train. He was convinced she was going to look just like his Grace, and it would almost seem as if his beautiful wife had come back from the dead.

  The train slowed, and the whistle blew. He watched as people disembarked from the huge locomotive. Only one woman was there, and she had dark hair and brown eyes. That couldn’t be his Vicki. He scanned the crowd again, looking for his bride.

  The woman locked eyes with him and took a step forward. “Mortimer?”

  Mortimer swallowed down his disappointment. “Vicki?”

  The woman frowned. “Actually, people call me Toria.” She clutched her carpet bag in front of her. It contained everything she’d brought with her, and Elizabeth was shipping the rest of her possessions, meager though they were.

  He hadn’t expected her to be called anything but Vicki. He would have to rethink things. “It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to go over to the church to marry?”

  She nodded. “I’d like that, but I’d really like to wash up and change clothes first, if I may. I only plan to marry once, and I don’t want to do it in a traveling dress that has spit-up on it.”

  He hadn’t expected that at all. “Let me take you over to my friend’s house. His wife will let you bathe there, if you’d like. The pastor is expecting us sometime before five.” He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. It was half past three, so they had plenty of time. “We have an hour and a half to get there. Can you bathe and change that quickly?”

  “Certainly.” When he reached out to take her travel bag from her, for a moment, she wouldn’t let it go. Then she took a deep breath. He was just displaying good manners. What was wrong with her? “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He offered his arm, trying not to be sad that the woman was tall and dark instead of looking exactly like his sweet Grace. How could he have thought he was going to get his bride back? “My friend’s house is this way. Would you like me to send a telegram to anyone, letting them know you’ve arrived safely while you bathe?”

  “Yes, please. My niece is Elizabeth Miller, the matchmaker in Beckham, Massachusetts. If you would send her a telegram and let her know that I’m here, I’d be very grateful.” Why did their conversation feel so stilted to her? They were about to marry. Shouldn’t there be some joy involved instead of this constant politeness?

  “I’d be happy to do that for you.” He stopped in front of a house right next to the telegraph office, knocking on the door. When Beatrice opened the door with a smile, he said, “This is Vick…I mean Toria. Would you allow her to bathe here before we marry?”

  Beatrice opened the door wide. “Of course. I should have thought to offer! Come in!”

  Toria stepped inside, looking back over her shoulder at Mortimer. “Thank you. I should be ready in about forty-five minutes, if you’d come back.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Mortimer watched as she stepped inside and closed the door, slumping slightly. It was going to be harder to love her than he’d thought, but he knew he could make it work.

  Chapter Two

  Toria was relieved to see Mortimer leave for a few minutes. He seemed like a nice enough man, but he also seemed disappointed in her, and she wasn’t sure why. She knew she was relatively pretty, and she had no warts on her nose. Surely there was something she was missing and didn’t understand.

  Beatrice hurried into the kitchen and Toria followed helplessly. “If you want to take a full bath, it will take a few minutes to heat the water. If you’re willing to just take a sponge bath, I can have that ready in a few minutes.”

  Toria really wanted a full bath, but she didn’t want to put Beatrice out. “How about if I use a bowl, but you heat enough water to wash my hair? It hasn’t been washed in the ten days since I left Massachusetts, and I’m used to washing it twice a week.” It was one of the luxuries of living in a boarding house, and she was going to miss it.

  “I’m happy to. I’ll even help wash it. My baby girl is taking her nap, so you came at just the right time.” Beatrice hurried to the basin and pumped some water into a huge pot.

  Toria pulled the clothes she’d brought to marry in—a simple skirt made of blue linen, and a frilly white blouse—out of her bag. Before she even asked, Beatrice put her iron on the stove to heat. “Thank you. I appreciate being able to clean up before I marry.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Beatrice responded. “I’ll even iron your things for you while you wash.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Mortimer was so excited about your arrival. My friend, Hannah, cleaned his house for you so it would be perfect when you arrived. He offered to pay her, but she wanted a stethoscope in exchange for the work she did. It was an odd request, but they were both happy in the end.”

  Toria smiled at that. If he’d been as excited as Beatrice said before she’d even arrived, surely she was mistaken about his disappointment upon seeing her. Beatrice handed her a bowl, and she took it gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “Go into my room to change. It’s just to the right. Put your nightgown on when you’re done, and I’ll be pressing this. Then we’ll wash your hair. I’m so happy you’re finally here. Mortimer needs a good wife, and just by talking to you, I can see you’ll be just that.”

  Beatrice’s happy chatter made Toria feel a little more comfortable about the situation. She hurried into the bedroom and removed her dress, washing everywhere. When her hair was washed, she knew she’d feel like a new woman.

  Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and Beatrice was brushing her hair dry in front of the fire in her parlor. “Thank you so much for helping me get ready.”

  “It’s not a problem at all. I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, and a woman can never have too many friends in a town like Creede.”

  “What does that mean?” Was there something wrong with the town she didn’t know about?

  “It’s getting to be a better place every day. When I first arrived, there were women who went missing. They were all found in a cellar, and half the town burned down. They were being taken and held so they could be forced to be saloon girls.”

  “Saloon girls? That’s terrible!”

  Beatrice nodded. “It is terrible. I will say, those missing women have become some of my closest friends. The town is working on rebuilding.”

  “Did they catch the man responsible for the kidnappings?”

  “Yes and no. They caught one of his henchmen, but the man who hired him has been freed. His uncle has a great deal of money, and our sheriff is easily bribed. Hopefully the townspeople will find a way to replace him soon.”

  “That’s terrible! Are the women all right?”

  “They are. They’re a little worse for the wear, but they’re strong, and they’ll be fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Toria knew there had been some disappearing women back in Beckham as well. What was it with women being considered possessions?

  Beatrice sighed. “Our modern world isn’t always a good place, is it?” She stroked the brush through Toria’s hair one last time. “I think it’s as dry as we can get it within our time constraints. Would you like me to put it up for you?”

  Toria nodded. She’d always enjoyed it when someone else did her hair for her. “I’d like that, if you d
on’t mind.”

  “Not at all. It’s good practice for when Sally gets a little older.”

  “How old is Sally?”

  “We think she’s about thirteen or fourteen months old now. At least that’s what Dr. JT said when he saw her last week for her earache. She’s been walking for about six weeks, so that seems right. We’ve chosen a birthday in mid-September for her.”

  Toria frowned. “You chose a birthday? And you don’t know her real age? How can that be?”

  “We found her on our doorstep shortly after we married. We’re keeping her, but we don’t have a lot of information about her. My husband is the telegraph operator, so he wired other towns, but no one knows where she came from.”

  “That’s really sad. I’m glad she was left with people who will love her and protect her, though.” Toria couldn’t imagine leaving a baby with strangers, but obviously it had worked out for the best for little Sally.

  Beatrice made a final twist to Toria’s hair. “There. Let me go get my mirror.” She hurried out of the room, and Toria sat there quietly, wondering for the millionth time if she was making a mistake.

  “You’re doing the best thing for both you and Mortimer. Just give him time to see that.”

  Toria jumped at the voice, which came from right beside her. “You were on the train!”

  “I was, and I wasn’t. I want you to realize everything is going to be fine. You’re doing the right thing, marrying Mortimer.”

  Toria sighed. “I don’t think he likes me. He seemed very disappointed when he saw me.” As startling as the woman’s presence always was, Toria seemed drawn to her, and she had no trouble sharing her inner most thoughts. It was odd.

  “Give him some time. He had unrealistic expectations.”

  “Oh?” How did this woman know what sort of expectations Mortimer had? Did she know him?

  “Just give him time. I’ll be here when you need me.”

  “Toria, I found it. Arthur must have moved it somewhere unexpected, and I didn’t want to wake the baby by searching for it.”

  Toria turned her head when she heard Beatrice calling her name. When she looked back, the woman was gone. She decided not to say a word to Beatrice about her because she didn’t want her new friend to think she’d lost her mind.

  She took the mirror from Beatrice and looked into it. Her hair was styled differently than she usually did it, but it looked good. “Thank you so much for your kindness today. I hope we’ll see each other frequently.”

  “We definitely will. I provide baked goods for the store to sell. I come in every morning.” Beatrice grinned, accepting the mirror back. “We’ll have to find an afternoon every week where we can visit as well.”

  “I’d really enjoy that! I’ll talk to Mortimer about what days the mercantile is the busiest and ask which day he feels like he can spare me.” Toria had no idea how much she’d be working in the store, but she was good at it. She’d even done the books for Sebastian and his wife. She would offer to do the same here if Mortimer needed her to.

  “Good. Well, you let me know when. Sally usually naps from about one to three, so I have those hours free. I don’t mind chatting while the baby is up, but she can be a handful.”

  The warmth in Beatrice’s voice left no doubt in Toria’s mind about how the other woman felt about her adopted baby. “I love children, and I don’t get to be around them nearly enough.” She’d once babysat for her nephews and nieces, but as soon as they’d become too unruly, she’d stopped—and that hadn’t taken long. They were referred to as the demon horde, after all.

  “Well, then we won’t worry about when you come. I almost always have fresh cookies, and I can put water on for tea.”

  Toria jumped at a knock on the door. The mysterious woman who kept appearing and disappearing was turning her into a nervous wreck. She watched as Beatrice hurried for the door, getting to her feet. She brushed her dress down, making sure it looked perfect.

  Mortimer stood at the door with his hat in hand. “Are you ready?” he asked Toria, and she nodded. He still didn’t look exactly pleased with her, and she thought hard about what she could have possibly done wrong to upset him as soon as they met.

  “Yes, just let me fetch my bag.” She’d left it in the kitchen, so she hurried to get it. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Beatrice. I really appreciate it.”

  Beatrice smiled, hugging her quickly. “Remember to visit as soon as you can!”

  “I will.” Toria let Mortimer take her bag and took the arm he offered her. “Thank you for letting me clean up before the wedding. I can’t imagine how I would have felt marrying without at least washing my hair.”

  Mortimer smiled at her, but his smile was tight. She still felt wrong to him. “You look lovely.” It was the truth, though not the whole truth. She’d have looked a lot lovelier if she’d looked just like his Grace.

  “Thank you.” Toria scrambled for a subject to discuss with him, not ready for silence between them. “How far is it to the church?”

  “Not far. We have a new pastor here in town. He’ll be the one marrying us.”

  From his tone of voice, she gathered he didn’t really care for the pastor, but he was all they had. “Do you go to church regularly?”

  He nodded. “Now that we have a pastor in town I do. I went to Bachelor for church at least every other week before, but it wasn’t always safe to make the drive.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a very narrow road with a steep drop-off. Beatrice lost her parents there.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.”

  “It is. She’s happy now, but she came into town right after they died and had to marry immediately. It was the only safe thing for her to do.”

  Toria frowned. That was the second time people had mentioned safety in this town. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? “I’m glad she found someone who was good to her, then.” She glanced up as she realized they’d reached the church. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Mortimer. It was really the first time she’d studied him. He had brown hair with a receding hairline, and brown eyes. His eyes were actually very nice.

  “Are you ready to do this?” he asked. He almost sounded like he was dreading the wedding, and she wasn’t really certain why. He’d sent for a mail order bride.

  “I am.” She knew nothing about him except that he was a widower, had a grown son, and ran a mercantile. It was so little to base a lifetime on. Hopefully they would be able to spend a good amount of time getting to know one another before the wedding.

  Mortimer opened the door for the church and called out, “Pastor Theodore. Are you still here?”

  A sour-faced young man responded from the front of the church. “Yes, I’m here. Are you ready to marry? I’ve delayed going home to wait for you.”

  Toria frowned. “Thank you for waiting. I felt the need to clean up before I stepped into God’s house.”

  The look on the man’s face changed, and he nodded. “That’s how everyone should be.”

  “Shall we begin? I’d like to get my bride home and show her the house.” Mortimer hoped that the rest of the work had been done that day. Hannah had started Monday, and she’d worked Tuesday and Wednesday as well. It hadn’t been quite clean enough for Grace when he’d left. He needed it clean enough for Grace.

  Toria took a deep breath, wondering again what on earth she was doing. Ten minutes later, it was all over. Pastor Theodore said, “You may kiss your bride.”

  Mortimer leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. He felt strange kissing someone who looked so very different than his late wife, especially in a church. Eventually he was sure he would need to learn to treat her as his bride, but he just wasn’t sure he was ready for that, even though he had been sure he was.

  Toria felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. Many men had tried to kiss her, but she’d been determined to save her first kiss for after her marriage. Now she was married and still unkissed. What was wrong with her th
at he wouldn’t kiss her?

  After they’d left the church, Mortimer talked to her as they approached the store. “Grace and I ran this store together for fifteen years. She died five years ago. My son was angry that I was marrying someone else, even though she’s been gone for so long.” Now that John was out of the house, he was lonely. It was as simple as that. He shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life being lonely to make his son happy.

  “She sounds like she was a good woman. I’m not sure I could ever take her place, so I’m not going to try. I won’t be a replacement wife, I’ll be more of a new helper.”

  Mortimer looked at her, surprised at her insight into how he was feeling. “I appreciate that.”

  He led her up the stairs at the back of the store to his living quarters. He’d thought to have her sleeping beside him right away, but he realized she’d be more comfortable with a period of time to get to know him first. He showed her the kitchen, the parlor, and then the bedrooms. There were three bedrooms. One had been his and Grace’s, one John’s, and one had been Grace’s sewing room.

  He opened the door of John’s old room and said, “Why don’t you stay here for now? As we get to know each other, perhaps we’ll decide it’s time to share a room.”

  Toria nodded, the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She’d talked to Elizabeth about the possibility of asking for time before consummating the marriage, but it was as if he was rejecting her before she even had the chance to discuss it. “That will be fine, thank you.”

  “The spare room was Grace’s sewing room, if you’d like to use it for your own purposes.”

  She nodded once. She wasn’t sure she needed a sewing room, but she wasn’t going to say that just yet. “I thought you should know that I worked in a store back east. I did the books for the mercantile there, and I am perfectly capable of helping out in the store here…even doing the books, if you’d like.”