Adventure For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 3) (4 page)

“I said, who’s Anna Mae?” Millie repeated, looking between the two men for an explanation. Instead of answering, they stared each other down, each daring the other to speak. It was Pryor who broke the silence first.

“Anna Mae is Mr. Flynn’s wife,” he said cautiously, choosing those exact words purposely so she would know exactly what kind of situation she’d fallen into. His words hit their mark, and he was pained by the look of surprised hurt on her face.

“Your wife?” she whispered. “But… I came all this way, I bought the supplies the agency told me I’d need… and you have a wife? How could you be so cruel?”

“You don’t know anything!” Wyatt shouted at her, causing Mille to recoil slightly before she recovered herself and stood up taller as if to defy his anger. Pryor shoved him backwards with a push to his chest, then stepped in front of Millie.

“You will not speak that way to a lady, or I’ll have O’Conner throw you in jail for the night. Do you hear me? You raise your voice to her or to any other woman one more time, and I’ll see to it that you learn a lesson it will take you months to forget.”

Pryor turned to Millie and apologized for the cross words. “I think it would be best if we all went somewhere quiet and sat down to talk before even another minute passes.” He held out his arm toward the small diner Gretchen had opened adjacent to Jorgenson’s store. Wyatt turned and stomped off, not waiting on them to catch up to him. Pryor smiled grimly at Millie, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he envisioned the very real possibility that he’d take a horse whip to Flynn before sundown.

The three of them had to duck their heads to enter the low building because, like the store next door, it had been dug out on the inside so that it dropped a few steps. The shape of the building allowed it to stay warm in the winter with the help of only a woodstove, but kept it from being blown about by the winds that drove down from the mountains during every storm. Only one other person sat at one of the three wooden tables inside, nursing a hot cup of chicory and staring at the tabletop. Gretchen recognized him as the younger man who had taken the stage coach with Millie, but didn’t want to intrude on his solitude.

“Let’s sit here, shall we?” Pryor said, but truth be told, he wasn’t offering anyone a choice. He waited until Millie was seated, then shoved Wyatt down with a firm push on his shoulder before joining him on the bench facing the newcomer. Gretchen hovered nearby, unsure of whether or not she would be welcome in their conversation. Pryor caught her eye and nodded for her to come over so Millie would not feel uncomfortable.

“Now, where do we start?” he asked, but his question was met with only silence. “Okay then, Wyatt, why don’t you tell Miss Carter why you’ve invited her out here?”

“She knows why she’s here, apparently everyone thinks I need a wife!” he growled, not looking in Millie’s direction. She blinked in surprise before looking between Wyatt and Pryor several times.

“And you don’t think you do, because you already have one?” she demanded in a saucy tone, rapping her knuckles against the table top to get him to look at her. Wyatt looked up sharply and frowned.

“I told you I’m not talking about Anna Mae, Pryor,” he warned his friend in a hushed voice. Pryor held up his hands for quiet.

“Well, because you didn’t see fit to be honest about the state of affairs, someone has to. You can’t have poor Miss Carter here wondering what she’s doing here.” He turned to Millie and opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped momentarily when Wyatt shoved back from the table and went to pace the length of the room some yards away.

Pryor gave Millie as brief and respectful a rundown of the situation as he could. She watched his face as he spoke, a wide range of emotions playing across her features as she heard the sad tale. She looked ready to bolt for the door and run all the way to the next town to catch the train when she heard about the children. All the time he spoke, Wyatt paced back and forth like a captured animal, knowing that Millie deserved to hear the truth but wanting to punch MacAteer in the mouth for spreading his personal pain around.

“I see,” Millie said quietly as she sat back against the ladder back chair, letting go of the breath she’d been holding. She looked down at her gloved hands in her lap, watching them twist her handkerchief of their own free will without even realizing she was doing it.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Pryor asked, amazed. He was prepared to try to bar the door to keep her from running screaming through the wide street that dissected New Hope, but instead she was oddly quiet.

“What else is there to say, Mr. MacAteer? Mr. Flynn has been through a horrible ordeal, and I can understand why he might not have chosen to divulge it all to a woman he’d never met, writing it on scraps of paper to send through the post.” She looked around the room before continuing. “I do wish I’d known about the children, though.”

“Now, Miss Carter, they’re darlings, I promise. You won’t have a bit of trouble out of ‘em…”

“Oh, no, I only meant I would have liked to have brought them some small gift for the first time they met me. It’s such a shame, all that they’ve been through, then to have a strange woman show up? A doll or a poppet, maybe a bit of store-bought candy, might have soothed their hurts.”

Wyatt stopped his pacing, but didn’t turn around to face them. It gave him pause to know that this stranger, someone who, by all rights, could have been furious at him for the trick he’d pulled in not being completely honest, was only thinking of bringing his children a token of some kind. She didn’t seem to be put out that he had children, only that she hadn’t known about them.

Instead of responding, he shook it off and resumed his angry stalking. She had no right to talk about his kids, to even care about his kids. She was nobody to them, and he hadn’t even told them anyone was coming, in case…

“That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Carter, but I’m sure your presence will be all the gift the children need. It’s been a long time since they’ve had someone at home with a woman’s touch. They’ll just be glad of your presence.” Pryor cast a quick look at Wyatt and met his fuming gaze with a glare of his own, openly daring him to argue.

“That’s kind of you, Mr.—” she said, letting her response trail off. Pryor looked chagrined.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I never even introduced myself. I’ve just heard so much about you that I just felt like we knew each other. I’m Pryor MacAteer, and you’ll get to know my wife, Moira, as soon as she’s able…”

“Oh, she’s not taken ill, has she?” Millie cried, leaning forward with genuine interest. He smiled at her concern.

“No, no, she’s actually very well, thank you. But she’s just had another baby!” Pryor explained, then braced himself for the onslaught of emotional congratulations that would surely follow from someone as exuberant as this woman. Millie didn’t disappoint, as her eyes lit up and her entire face reflected a giant smile while she clapped her hands excitedly.

“Oh, Mr. MacAteer, a baby! How wonderful!” she gushed. “Is it your first?” He shook his head and opened his mouth to explain, but she broke in before he could respond. “Oh, then you have others? How marvelous! A big family then, with lots of little ones running around the place. Do you and Mrs. MacAteer also have a farm? I bet the children are great fun on a farm!”

Pryor was reeling from the rapid fire style of conversation Millie employed, and he started to wonder how the other passengers on the coach had fared with the weeks over overland travel with an excitable, anxious woman such as herself. He immediately put aside that thought as being unkind when he remembered his own excitement at traveling west, although he was sure he was able to keep it more reservedly contained.

“Perhaps we’d best all sit down now,” Pryor began, looking pointedly at Wyatt. “And discuss the events. Isn’t that a good idea,
Mr. Flynn
?”

Wyatt hesitated long enough for Pryor to think he was going to bolt for the door, but thenhe  begrudgingly sat down. No sooner had hit britches hit the seat than Pryor jumped up.

“And now I’ll leave you two to talk, like rational adults, while I go check on our horses.” He turned and fled, but not before Wyatt reached out futilely for his shirt sleeve. He meant to grab Pryor and force him to stay, but he only ended up swiping at the empty air behind Pryor’s back. He fumed, then turned fiercely on Millie.

“What do you want to know?” he finally asked through clenched teeth.

“Why am I here, Mr. Flynn?” she began cautiously, her earlier bubbly personality replaced by the wary tone of a person staring into the face of a rabid dog. She wasn’t put off, though, and waited patiently for an answer without giving Wyatt room to squirm out of it.

“What do you mean? I already told you, I need a wife. It was in my letters.”

“But I’m afraid I’m going to need you to tell me why, seeing as how you already have a wife,” she replied, still staring him down without backing off. Millie wasn’t stupid, she knew in her heart why this peculiar, angry man had written to the agency, but she wasn’t about to take another step forward with a man who couldn’t face up to his own problems.

Wyatt looked away, still fuming, still hoping to work himself out of this situation. How had he ever let that fool MacAteer convince him this was a good idea? Just because Pryor had had a measure of luck in finding a bride—one who was soft-spoken and accommodating like Moira, and like Anna Mae had been, he had to admit—didn’t mean this loud-mouthed brazen creature was fit to be a homesteader’s wife.

“I’m still waiting, Mr. Flynn. I think I’m owed the courtesy of an answer,” she reminded him in a cold voice.

“Because… my wife died,” he finally said, realizing that it was one of only a few times he’d spoken those words aloud, to anyone, let alone a stranger.

“I know,” she answered, causing Wyatt to turn to look at her sharply. She shrugged and held up her hands. “I should have said, I guessed as much. No man who is so obviously in love with his wife would ever insult her by sending for a new one. I was afraid this was too good to be true. I’m sorry to have troubled you, and I hope your feelings weren’t hurt today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go find a room to rent until I can arrange passage back to Boston.” She stood up to go, but froze when she saw Wyatt’s expression.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” he demanded in a voice that was filled with some strong emotion that Millie couldn’t place. It wasn’t anger, but it was certainly unhappy.

“Don’t you think that’s for the best?” Millie asked, sitting back down and leaning closer so no one would overhear them.

“Well… well, I don’t know!” he barked. “You came all this way just to turn around and leave again?”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself worrying on my account, Mr. Flynn. I only went to the agency in the first place because I was ready for an adventure. I’ve lived my whole life in that city, crammed into two smelly rooms over an undertaker’s parlor with three sisters and two brothers and my ma and pa. I’ve worked in the yarn mill since I was old enough to write my name and do my sums. I thought coming out west, even if it was to marry a man I’d never laid eyes on, would be just the right adventure for someone like me.” She patted his hand reassuringly, causing him to wince and pull back from her touch. “I’ve lived the city life for so long, it’ll be just like going home again. I don’t know any different, at least not except what I could see from the window of the coach.”

She reached for her tapestry bag and smiled at Wyatt sadly. “But you take care of yourself, and your little ones, Mr. Flynn. You’re all they have now, and they’ll need you in ways you cannot possibly yet know. Goodbye.”

She got up and was out the door of the restaurant before Wyatt could even react. There was no need for Gretchen to eavesdrop to know exactly what had just transpired.

“Mr. Flynn! Get up from that table and go after her!” she cried after the door shut behind Millie. “The poor dear came all this way to do your bidding, and you’ve naw got the sense to even speak to her proper! If you can naw think of your household and yourself, think of your little ones!”

In his confusion, Wyatt only nodded dumbly. He knew she was right, of course, but there was no fight left in him. The loud woman didn’t belong here, she half said so herself. Instead of following after her, he stood up and walked to the door, then went out and started off in the opposite direction. Wyatt barely registered Gretchen’s actions as she flew past him, her long skirts brushing against his legs just outside cramped entrance to the diner, and headed out the door after Millie.

“Miss Carter! Miss Carter, wait!” Gretchen cried, running across the dirt road to catch up with her. She skidded to a stop beside the woman’s stacked trunks and threw her arms across them as if that could prevent Millie from leaving.

“Mrs. O’Conner? Are you all right?” Millie asked, putting her hands out to catch the woman, but Gretchen could only nod. She caught her breath and coughed delicately, then stood up taller, pressing a hand against her growing belly to reassure herself.

“I’m… fine… Miss Carter. ‘Tis just harder to run with the baby standing on my innards!” she answered with a smile. “But Miss Carter, won’t you please come inside with me?”

Millie smiled, but shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise. Mr. Flynn clearly doesn’t want me here. I don’t know what possessed him to send off for a new wife, but I can tell you this much: he’s simply not ready to have someone else move into his home. It’d be too hard for him to accept another woman in his dear wife’s place. It’s best that I go.”

“You don’t understand, Miss Carter!” Gretchen cried. When she realized how loudly she’d protested, she looked over her shoulder once to see if Wyatt had heard her. “He needs you. He may not know it right now, but he does. He’s… he’s reached the point where he cannot even make himself care
about
the children, let alone care
for
them. And he’s not a bad man, not at all. His heart is just broken, ‘tis all, and he needs time and attention to mend it.”

“You may be right, but he won’t be able to mend it with someone like me standing in the way. This is a process he has to go through on his own. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh, but you can! You can win him over, Miss Carter!” Gretchen exclaimed, smiling broadly as if her explanation made perfect sense.

“You can’t be serious! That man despises me! What am I supposed to do, follow him around reading him poetry? No, Mrs. O’Conner, that won’t work,” Millie lamented with a sad smile.

“Not soon, and no, I did naw mean with flowers or poetry. But he does need you all the same. Won’t you stay and help, at least for his children’s sakes? I heard you back inside, you know, I heard you say you wanted an adventure. Well, you’re not going to find a bigger adventure than this one!” she answered, throwing her arms out to indicate the whole of Montana.

Millie looked at her for a second with a mischievous look in her eye. “I do love an adventure, Mrs. O’Conner. But what are we to do? Where am I to live? I won’t stay with him unless I’m his wife, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Do you see the problem? Where would I stay to still be of use to him and even hope to have a chance at softening his heart someday?”

“Hmmm, that we’ll have to put some thought to, but I know we can come up with a suitable arrangement. Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll fix us some lunch, then we’ll set to plotting against him!”

“I beg your pardon! Plot against him?” Millie cried in disbelief. “I’ve never plotted against anyone in my life, and I’m not about to start now just because my alleged husband turned out to be more donkey than man!”

“Perhaps plotting was a wee bit strong of a word then. How about merely planning?” Gretchen asked with a smile as she linked her arm through Millie’s and led her back in the direction of the diner.