Fergus' Honor (Grooms With Honor Book 2), Page 4

"Uh, yes. I'd like to." She finally looked...less guarded. Maybe he'd show her all men weren't mean animals.

  Chapter 4

  "Stay inside, Iris. Please, don't even peek out the door."

  Fergus hated to drive the wagon into a town, but they needed supplies.

  He didn't think there was a way his wagon could be associated with a missing woman, but someone on the train could have seen it, and the big lettering on the side made it easy to remember.

  "Got our list written out? I'll stop at the general store after I send a telegram to my folks." Iris handed the piece of paper to him and he glanced down the list. Iris had pretty, flowing handwriting, so much easier to read than his.

  "How long should the ribbon be?"

  "Fergus..."

  "Yes, I'm buying the ribbon. You need to be able to tie your cloak to keep warm."

  "Please buy a yard then, either black or navy blue, if you have a choice."

  He handed the piece of paper back to Iris and she wrote it down.

  "The most important thing isn't on the list."

  "What?" Iris looked baffled.

  "The first thing you asked for when you woke up the first day."

  Iris blushed so pretty. He could get used to it.

  After glancing at him, she wrote down "chamber pot" and held out the paper to him again.

  He was going to add more items to the list but she didn't need to know about them yet.

  "Keep the door locked and don't answer if someone other than me knocks."

  "All right." But Iris didn't look all right to be in town. She looked terrified.

  "I won't be long," Fergus assured her as he opened the door. He waited until he heard her lock the door before stepping down the steps.

  He’d parked in the alley behind the general store, then walked around the block since the depot was across and down the street a ways. He realized he was calling attention to himself because he was walking too fast, so he slowed down his feet and tried to do the same to his heartbeat.

  Was the man who hurt Iris in town, maybe walking on this very sidewalk, or watching from the upstairs of the hotel?

  Fergus waited inside the telegraph office door because there was someone else at the agent's window. Better to listen than be seen if possible. Fergus walked up to the window after an older man departed the office.

  "I’d like to send a telegram, please."

  "I saw you go by in your photograph wagon. You been working north of town?”

  "Uh, why do you ask?" Fergus scrambled to think why he was asking. Because someone wanted his photograph taken or because his wagon was spotted near the river bridge?

  "A man was in here yesterday, looking for a woman. The woman got off the train at the wrong town before he realized it and he wondered if she had shown up here trying to make connections. Wondered if you might have seen a woman walking the tracks when you were driving around?"

  Why would she be walking the tracks if she got off at a town?

  "Sorry. I've been out in the country, not close to the tracks until coming into town today.

  "Who's looking and how do I contact him if I see the woman? Did he say her name?"

  Fergus tried to keep calm while asking the questions.

  The agent picked up a piece of paper, which was lying by the window. "Milton Morris, staying in the hotel across the street. The woman's name is Iris Kerns."

  “Can you describe him—and her—so I know who to be looking for?”

  “Morris was middle age, not quite fifty, fancy clothing, leaned heavily on a cane. He said the woman was in her twenties with dark curly hair, wearing a dark blue wool cloak.”

  "I'll watch for them. Did he say how long he was staying in the area?"

  "No. I assume until he reunites with her."

  Fergus cleared his throat to steady his nerves. "I need to send a telegram to Angus Reagan, Clear Creek Kansas."

  The agent picked up his pencil ready to write down his message on a piece of paper.

  "Home twelve Fergus." Even with the delay caused by Iris, they should still be home by November twelfth.

  "That's it?"

  "That's all. What do I owe you?"

  *

  It was an odd combination of items spread out on the general store counter, but that's what they needed, besides lemon drops for his sweet tooth, and to hand out when he stopped at homesteads. He forgot to ask Iris if she had a favorite candy, not that she'd confess it, or anything important, like her last name to him.

  Ammunition, canned goods, ten pounds of potatoes, a five-pound slab of bacon, two dozen eggs, a pound of butter, a sack of lemon drops, a navy blue ribbon, a ready-made dress, and a white enamel chamber pot.

  "Oh, and two pounds of coffee beans please." Fergus racked his mind trying to think of any other item he needed, besides the one he'd put off asking about.

  The clerk, a woman in her fifties added it to his bill. "Anything else before I add up your total?" She probably asked because he'd reluctantly asked for the dress, and then finally the chamber pot.

  Even though he had mixed feelings about Iris and the truth behind her leaving the train, he still wanted to help her.

  "I also need a ladies' wedding band."

  Fergus was surprised at the woman's excited change in attitude. But it was probably excitement for the sale rather than supposed proposal to his fiancée.

  "I have a lovely assortment for you to choose from," she exclaimed as she pulled out a tiny velvet-covered board with ten wedding bands stuck halfway in velvet-lined holes.

  "What size does she wear?"

  Fergus stilled his fingers, about to pick up the thinnest band. He had no clue. Fergus was going for cheap.

  "She's petite." The only time he'd held her hand was pulling her from the river, and pulling off her wet clothes.

  "Tiny. Tiny hands." Fergus could feel red heat climbing up his neck, heading for his cheeks.

  "Well, the thinnest band is probably best then as it is fashioned for a delicate hand."

  The clerk pulled the ring from the board and handed it to Fergus to inspect.

  With this ring, I thee wed.

  Golly. He could hear his father’s voice as clear as if he was standing right in front of him, at the church altar.

  Fergus, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live together with her in the covenant of marriage?

  She'll only be my pretend wife and we'll be living together in very close quarters in an old sheepherder's wagon.

  Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?

  No, this ring was just a temporary protection for Iris.

  Now his father's words told him he was doing the right thing.

  Always protect, respect and honor women and children.

  Yes, I'll protect her from harm, until she runs away from me next.

  "Perfect. I'll take it."

  ***

  Three knocks, a pause, then two more startled Iris. She'd dozed off again, and after enjoying a night of the best dreamless sleep that she'd had in ages.

  "It's Cullen McKenna to see Seth Tully."

  Iris guessed Fergus used the names of his brothers in code to give her a sense of security, and a bit of humor to lessen her tension.

  He knocked the code again as she untangled herself from the quilt and moved to the door. She slipped the hook off the door and opened it wide enough to peek outside.

  "Open up so I can set this box inside, then you can pull it to the front of the wagon."

  Iris opened the door, keeping herself out of sight as he lifted the box onto the floor of the wagon. There was barely room on the floor to walk around it. He reached down to the ground and held up the chamber pot by the handle for her to grab.

  "Careful. Eggs packed inside. I’ll be back in a minute with the rest of the supplies."

  Fergus looked both directions before nodding to Iris and walking to the
back entrance of the store.

  Iris set the chamber pot in the bed to keep the eggs safe for now. She wasn't sure where he stored eggs when he traveled.

  She carefully stepped back around the box to lock the door, and then turned to see what was in the box. Canned goods were stored in the bottom drawer so she could put those away. A sack of potatoes, a wrapped section of...Iris lifted it to her nose. Cured meat, probably bacon.

  A box of ammunition. Fergus strapped on a gun belt and holstered a revolver on his right hip before he left the wagon this morning.

  No ribbon? She'd actually been looking forward to looping a new ribbon on the neck of her cloak.

  Fergus was back knocking on the door before she had a chance to put the food away. She almost flipped the hook when the door's outside handle jerked once, then a second time more forcibly. The bottom of the door opened more than the top where the hook still held. Another hard pull could pop the little hook though.

  Iris stilled. Dread rapidly filled her chest. Her eyes darted around the room. There was no place to hide in the wagon's cramped quarters. She'd be exposed to whoever opened the door.

  What should she do? Call out so someone knew the contents were protected? Throw canned goods at the person when the door flung open?

  "Hey! Hey! Get away from my wagon!" Fergus' angry voice threatened the person on the other side of the door from Iris.

  "I was looking for the owner." Iris gasped before slapping her hand over her mouth. He found me!

  "I'm right here. You need your family's picture taken?" Fergus' voice was still strong, but not menacing.

  "No, I'm looking for a runaway. Thought I might check the wagon as it would be a place to hide. Especially since the door is locked on the inside."

  Iris froze, scared to even take a breath.

  "My wife always locks the door when I'm out."

  Wife? Iris was surprised Fergus could come up with the fib so readily.

  "But she didn't open the door when I knocked,” the person still standing at the door countered.

  "She’s in the family way, so she might be resting, unless she’s hanging her head over the chamber pot." Fergus voice rose as if tired and cranky.

  "So what's the youngster's age and name if the boy shows up?"

  "Boy? No, it's a woman, Iris Kerns, in her twenties."

  "A woman?” There was a pause before Fergus continued. “And the reason a woman is running away from you?"

  Iris squeezed her eyes tight, wondering if he would lie or tell the truth about her.

  "None of your business. Here's my card. Please contact me if you see her. There's a reward for her return."

  There was a pause in the conversation, as Fergus must have read the card showing Morris’ name and address.

  "So you a bounty hunter, a Pinkerton detective?"

  "Not your concern."

  "Then it's not my concern either, so again I ask you to leave my family and wagon alone."

  "All right, but if you by chance see Miss Kerns...I’m staying in the hotel in town a few more days.

  Iris slipped quietly to sit on the floor. Somehow, he knew she didn't die and was hiding somewhere. He'd never stop hunting for her because—

  She jerked away from the door when there were three knocks, a pause, and two more soft raps. "Unlock the door, Missy, and then you can crawl under the covers again."

  Iris flipped the hook and in two steps she was back in bed, pulling the quilt over her head and the chamber pot of eggs.

  The door slowly creaked open and a box was set on the floor and pushed forward. After a few seconds a second box scraped forward on the aisle.

  "After I shut the door, please lock it again. We're leaving now, but I need to stop at the livery for a bag of oats for the horse. Then we'll travel out of town a few miles before I stop again."

  Iris barely did as he asked before the horse lurched the wagon on its way.

  *

  It was about an hour before the wagon slowed to a stop. Iris dreaded the confrontation they were about to have, but Iris didn't fear Fergus, more the look in his eyes when he found out about her past.

  Three taps, a pause and two more. Even though they were alone, Fergus still let her know it was he knocking at his own wagon door.

  "Are you all right?" was the first thing Fergus asked when she unlocked the door.

  Iris was standing on the top step and Fergus was on the ground, making them eye level to each other. He placed his hand on her shoulder to make her look at him.

  She couldn't meet his eyes. "Why didn't you turn me over to him? All I've caused you in trouble and money."

  "I could tell he was trouble. I wouldn't have given him his dog back, let alone a human being. Let’s talk inside where’s it’s warmer for you."

  The interior of the wagon shrunk with Fergus inside the wagon with her.

  "Iris, please let me know what's going on so I can help you.

  “Who was the man? When I was at the depot, the agent said a Mr. Morris was looking for an Iris Kerns. Is that your name?”

  She nodded and braced herself for the next question.

  “Are you two related and why were you with him?”

  Iris rubbed her sore temple thinking how he had treated her. “No. We’re not related and he didn’t ‘treat’ me as family.”

  Could I trust Fergus to help me, or will he hand me over to that horrible man?

  Iris cringed thinking of Morris. ”He won’t give up if he knows I’m alive," she whispered.

  “Why does he want to find you? Please tell me. I will not judge you because of your past," Fergus emphatically explained.

  "Not even if you knew I was a mulatto?" She waited for Fergus' eyes to widen in distaste, but he continued to remain calm.

  "I already guessed your heritage, and it doesn't matter one whit to me. I wouldn't care if your skin were light purple and your hair bright blue. No woman, innocent or not, should ever be hurt.

  “So why were you traveling with Morris?”

  “My half-brother owed Morris a large sum of money that his inheritance couldn’t cover, so he sold me to him.”

  “That’s not legal.”

  Iris temple thumped with tension. “Fergus, slavery continues in the South, even though it’s been twenty some years since Lincoln set us free.”

  Fergus leaned forward to stare at her. “Us?”

  She barely nodded her head at his question. “My mother was a light-skinned slave—and—my father was her owner.”

  Fergus didn’t say anything right away after her confession. Her words had shocked him.

  “Did he claim you as his daughter?”

  Iris looked out the side window, remembering being in the presence of her father many times, but he never formally acknowledged they were related. “Not really. I just was an increase in his property. The mark on the back of my neck proves that.”

  “So what did your mother do after she was free?”

  Iris shook her head. Free? It didn’t work that way for so many slave women. “She had no money or home, so she continued to work on the plantation until she died.”

  “How old were you then, and what did you do?”

  “Sixteen. Continued as a house servant.” A servant in my own home.

  “Is your father still living?”

  “No. He passed within the past year. My half-brother and his bride moved in and I—was a reminder of the plantation’s past. Paying a debt to Morris with a piece of my brother’s inherited ‘property’ was a way to get rid of me and clear his debt.”

  "That’s illegal. Your brother should have paid his debt with cash or a promissory note.”

  “Well he didn’t,” Iris sadly replied, thinking of the shock of her half-brother’s announcement she was to marry a man almost twice her age.

  “So where was your destination?” Fergus asked next.

  “Morris and I were on our way to San Francisco to marry and to have a month-long honeymoon, before returning to Louisville.


  “Morris was nice at first, and I thought the marriage could work—until he turned mean and demanding. I had no way to get away from Morris—until I jumped off the train.”

  “So now you have a fresh start, a chance to turn your life around."

  Just like that? Turn your life around? Did the man think she wouldn't do exactly that if she could?

  Fergus stepped back, because her face had to look as if she was about to explode.

  "And how am I to do that with no money nor a place to go? And a man hunting me down too?"

  Fergus opened his mouth but she waved her hand in the air to cut him off.

  "I was trying to kill myself because I didn't want that man ever touching me again! And I was out of options! This wasn't the first time I've tried to get away from him, but it was supposed to be the last!"

  Fergus interrupted her hysterical ranting by showing his upraised palms.

  "As I said before, you are welcome to travel with me to Kansas. Once we get to Clear Creek you can stay with my parents until you decide what to do."

  Iris was stunned at his offer. "They'd accept a mulatto into their family home?"

  "Who do you think taught me it was the right thing to always help any woman, even if her hair was bright blue?" Fergus cocked his head, trying to defuse her distress.

  "The parsonage and my parents have given temporary shelter to more people over the years than I could count on my fingers and my toes. I'd swear on my Bible that you'd be welcomed with open arms. But I’ll warn you, my ma loves to smother people, but in a good way."

  The thought of being safe for the first time in weeks was overwhelming, but could she trust this man she'd only known for a few days?

  "I plan to continue taking photographs on my way to Kansas and I already mentioned I needed an assistant. You'd be seeing people nearly every day and if you didn't feel safe with me, you could ask for their help."

  "Morris will still be looking for me, and an unmarried woman with a traveling man will be reported by someone.”

  Fergus reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a gold ring tied in the center of a rolled up piece of a navy blue ribbon. He untied the ring from the ribbon and held the gold band in front of her.

  “But ‘Mrs. Reagan’ will be traveling with ‘Mr. Reagan’, not the woman he’s looking for.”