Amon (4 page)

“That does sound like Amon, doesn’t it?” Colin sighed again. “Too bad. I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it except go back and tell the women.”

“Indeed,” Harrison replied. “God help us.”

* * *

“No? What do you mean he said no?” Sadie lamented.

“He not only said no,” Harrison told her. “But he made sure we understood it as a definite, permanent
no.”

“A
definite, permanent
no?” Belle echoed as she gaped at him. “Is he mad?”

Colin gave her a half-hearted shrug. “Perhaps. But he’s also quite sure.”

Sadie’s eyes widened as she leaned against the counter of the mercantile. They agreed to meet the men there and have lunch with Irene and Wilfred Dunnigan before the ladies’ sewing circle commenced. Thankfully, the Dunnigans were both still upstairs, or Irene would be putting her two cents into the situation. Eloise had already sent word that Nettie would join them that afternoon. The last thing Sadie or Belle wanted to do was to disappoint the girl – or, given Irene Dunnigan’s personality, upset her. “And here I thought it would be a fine time to tell her we found her a husband. Now what am I going to do?”

“Find her another,” Harrison suggested. “What else?”

“But I don’t know who!”

“It can’t be that hard to choose,” Colin said. “There are plenty of other men in this town wanting to wed.”

“Yes, I know,” Sadie agreed. “But Amon is … different.”

“To say the least,” Harrison muttered with a shake of his head. He looked at his wife. “Perhaps too different. Besides, we think he might be planning on leaving Clear Creek, and that’s why he doesn’t want to marry here. He’ll probably choose a wife wherever he settles.”

“I haven’t heard anything about him leaving,” Belle said. “Uncle Wilfred knows everything that goes on around here – he would’ve told me.”

“Yes that’s true,” Harrison said and began to pace. “But Amon doesn’t come to town too often, not since the hotel was finished. Most of his woodworking he does at the men’s camp.”

“That explains it,” Colin said with a happy smile. “He’s not had the chance to come to town and give Wilfred any rumors to spread around!”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Uncle Wilfred is not
that
bad.”

“Yes, he is, though it’s all right,” Sadie assured her. “And then there’s Fanny Fig – if she caught wind of it, it’d be everywhere.”

“Well, things are as they are,” Harrison said. “And you two will just have to make the best of it, I’m afraid. Oh, but I warn you, Jasper told us that Clinton Moresy is back in town.”

“Yes! And he’s
bathed
!” Colin added with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh dear me,” Sadie said. “He’ll be at the ranch wanting an audience with Nettie, won’t he?”

“She’s not ready for that,” Belle said. “I know it. Besides, she’s not staying at the Triple-C.”

“How do you know?” Colin asked. “The part about her not being ready?”

“A woman can tell these things. She’s very frightened, Colin, and very hurt.”

“Whatever for?” he asked.

“Her father is Thackary Holmes,” Harrison pointed out. “You have to ask?”

“Oh, quite. Does she want to marry at all, then?”

“She does – that’s why Duncan sent her here,” Sadie said. “So we’ll see the job done. But Amon really was the best choice. Of course we wouldn’t expect her to marry him right away – we’d want them to court, naturally. Amon has a gentleness that I thought would suit Nettie. He’d be patient with her.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed. “With what she’s been through, she needs that.”

“Then you’ll definitely want to keep Clinton away from her,” Colin told them.

“Belle and I will leave that to you two,” Sadie said with a smile.

“Us?!” Harrison exclaimed. “How are we supposed to keep him away from her?”

“Let alone keep all the other men in town away?” Colin added. “Other than whomever you choose.”

“I’m sure the two of you will think of something,” Sadie assured them.

“Well, we can’t very well watch him day in and day out, dear wife,” Harrison griped.

“I’m afraid he’s right,” Colin said. “We do have a ranch to run, remember?”

“Maybe if you put Clinton to work for you, you’d keep a better eye on him,” Belle suggested.

“Not a chance,” Harrison said firmly. “Clinton Moresy is no ranch hand.”

“All right, but I can guarantee you he’s going to show up,” Sadie said just as firmly.

Colin groaned and looked at his brother. “She’s right, you know. Clinton will be beating the door down the first chance he gets.”

“Either that or he’ll be at the hotel doing the same thing,” Belle said. “And I don’t think her brother will take kindly to that.”

“Well, this is a fine mess,” Colin said with a sarcastic smile. “Any way we can let dear Cousin Newton handle things?”

“We don’t know him well enough,” Harrison argued. “He might shoot Clinton.”

“He’ll do nothing of the kind,” Colin stated. “Newton Whitman may be the son of Thackary Holmes, but as I understand it, he’s never even seen the man. I’m sure he’s a gentleman.”

“Duncan’s letter said he was something akin to a stable boy,” Harrison pointed out, one eyebrow raised.

“Stable master,” Colin corrected. “More like Logan Kincaid than a street urchin, I’d imagine.”

“The unfortunate fact is that we know almost nothing of our distant cousins,” Harrison said. “Something we should remedy.”

“Belle and I will start with Nettie,” Sadie told him. “In fact, it’s almost time for the sewing circle to meet, so you two had best scoot.”

“You’re quite right, dear wife, as always.” Harrison kissed her on the cheek, then turned to Colin. “Shall we be off, then?”

Colin went to Belle and kissed her as well. “Until tonight, beautiful one,” he said and bowed.

Belle giggled and gave him a playful shove. “Oh, get out of here!”

Colin and Harrison gazed at their wives, bowed as one and left the mercantile to the sound of Belle and Sadie’s giggles.

Three

“… and this is Fanny Fig,” Sadie concluded with a smile.

Nettie sat in the circle, full of trepidation. Maybe she was imagining things, but she swore everyone looked at her as if she were an oddity in a curiosity shop. She had to fight the urge to wipe her sweating palms on the skirt of her dress. Of course, if they weren’t staring at her, they were staring at Newton, who had planted himself near the front counter. He and the shopkeeper, Wilfred, spoke in low tones as the women prepared to get down to business.

“You joined our wee group just in time,” Mary Mulligan the saloon owner’s wife said. “We’re ready to start a new project.”

“Oh?” Nettie acknowledged. “What might that be?”

“You have to ask?” Mary said with a giggle. “Your wedding dress, of course!”

Nettie blanched and swallowed hard.

“I think Miss Whitman could use some time to adjust to her new surroundings,” Sadie said diplomatically. “And I’m sure she and her intended will want to court.”

“Yes,” agreed Constance Jones, Ryder Jones’s wife. “Some courting is usually a good thing. Take it from me.”

Nettie fought to find her voice. “You … you courted a long time then?”

“She didn’t court at all,” Eloise chimed in. “That’s how she knows.”

“And what about you?” Nettie asked, her voice emotionless. Well, at least she was talking to them.

“Me?” Eloise said and pointed to herself. “Seth and I courted for a few weeks.”

“Barely two,” her older sister Penelope added.

Nettie looked at each in turn. She was related to them and to the three sitting across from her … what were their names again? Lena, Fina and … Apple?! She’d only heard stories about them from her mother, and was meeting them for the first time. She glanced at the oldest, Imogene, a middle-aged woman who sat and scrutinized Nettie as if she were an insect pinned on a board. She sat straighter in response. “Is there something else your group can work on other than …” Nettie gulped. “… a wedding dress for me?”

“A wedding quilt,” Irene Dunnigan said, looking annoyed. “You’ll need one of those.”

Nettie sighed as she saw the look on the woman’s face. “Perhaps something that has nothing to do with my wedding. After all, we don’t know when that will be. I’ve not yet met my intended.”

“That don’t matter around here,” said an old woman – Mrs. Waller the doctor’s wife, though everyone called her Grandma. “Land sakes, child, we all know you’re gonna get hitched. It’s only a matter of time, and these are things you’ll need regardless.” She looked around the circle. “We’ll start with the quilt, then move onto her dress.”

“Who made you boss, Grandma?” Fanny asked. “Maybe we ought to sew something for Belle’s baby.”

“Miss Whitman will be getting married long before the baby comes. We should take care of her first,” Belle suggested.

Nettie watched and listened as the circle of women, one by one, nodded their agreement. They started chatting about this and that. She made it a point to only speak when spoken to, usually to answer questions about her favorite colors or what flowers she liked. Obviously they were gathering information to make the wedding quilt. She’d imagined it would be done in white, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Before she knew it, several women raided a shelf containing bolts of fabric, and Mrs. Dunnigan went behind the front counter to measure it out. Other women talked about what they had at home to contribute, and soon, much to Nettie's relief, the meeting was over.

It was then, however, that the real interrogation began. “Do you like it here?” Apple asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Most of the women were milling around by this time, Nettie included. She fingered a shelf full of books. “I’m afraid I cannot say as yet. I’ve hardly left the hotel.”

“You’ve got to get out more,” Eloise said, her face solemn. She turned to her older sister. “Penelope, could we come to your house for tea this week? It would be so much cozier than the hotel. Then we can get to know Nettie better.”

Penelope looked Nettie over as if looking for something to help her weigh a decision. “I don’t see why not. When would you like to come?”

Nettie glanced between Penelope and Eloise. “Well, I …” She looked at her brother across the mercantile. “I suppose it depends.”

“On what?” Apple asked.

“On her intended, silly,” Fina said with a shake of her head. “The woman still has to meet him.”

“Who
is
your intended?” Lena asked.

“That’s something Belle and I will be discussing with Nettie and her brother,” Sadie cut in as she glanced around, her eyes settling on Belle. “Right?”

Belle turned from her Aunt Irene and nodded. “Yes, of course … over supper, perhaps!”

“Exactly,” Sadie agreed and turned back to Nettie with a smile.

By this time Newton had approached them. “When is this, you say?”

Sadie and Belle exchanged a quick glance. “Let’s see, today is Tuesday …,” Sadie mused. “Thursday?”

Newton took Nettie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thursday, then. I’m afraid, however, that we haven’t any way to get out to your ranch.”

“Not to worry,” Belle told him. “We’ll send Jefferson into town to fetch you.”

“Your husband’s stepfather?” he asked. “Seth has told me of him. Very well, we’ll look forward to it.”

“In the meantime, we could have tea tomorrow!” Apple said with glee.

“Yes, and you can tell us of England and all that’s been happening there in our absence,” added Fina.

“I’m afraid neither my brother nor I will be much help on that score,” Nettie told her solemnly.

“Surely you’ve attended at least some balls and musicales,” Imogene said, joining the conversation. “We’ve been away so long, I’d love to hear what’s been happening.”

Newton put his arm around his sister. “We haven’t anything to tell. I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment.”

Everyone noted his protective stance and went silent. Nettie let out the breath she was holding. She didn’t want to answer any more questions and she especially didn't want to let them know that she was never allowed out in polite society. What servant ever was? She looked at Newton and gave him a weak smile. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel now.”

“Of course,” he said as he removed his arm and extended it to her. She took it, and without another word he escorted her from the mercantile. Once outside he was quick to shut the door behind them. “That went fairly well, don’t you think?”

“It was horrible.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.” He led her down the mercantile’s porch steps to the street. “Those women are simply curious about us. We’re new here – it’s only natural that they would ask questions. None of which did you any harm, I might point out.”

“None, other than the last. What are they going to think of me when they find out I was nothing more than a scullery maid in my own home?”

“I don’t think these people will care a whit. After all, they’re from all walks of life, from all over the world.” He turned her toward the hotel. “I think we should have tea with them.”

Nettie gave him a bug-eyed expression. “I’m not ready. They’ll ask so many questions. Ones I probably won’t want to answer.”

“We’re going to have to get to know our relatives sometime. What’s wrong with sooner rather than later?”

Nettie stopped and faced him. “Newton, I realize they’re our relatives, but they came here under different circumstances.”

“Most of them came under the same circumstance as you. They needed husbands.”

“Yes, but they had status before they left. I’ll be a laughing stock among them when they find out … what became of me.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “Dear sister, none of that matters here. No one is above your station in this place because there’s no such thing as ‘station’ here. America has no aristocracy, no
ton
– at least not out here in Oregon. Everyone is on an even slate. I mean, Mary Mulligan has an Irish brogue as thick as oxtail soup – do you think she was a
duchess
in Ireland?”

“Well … I suppose not. I mean, she wouldn’t be here if she was …”

“Exactly – she and her husband probably came over during the Famine, and if you know a worse status than that I’d like to hear it. So stop worrying, will you?”

“I can’t seem to help it,” she said and looked away. “How unbearable it became. All the taunts, the threats …”

“It’s over now, do you understand?” He said as he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted up her head. “We have a chance at a new life here. Let’s not waste it.”

Nettie swallowed hard and nodded as she closed her eyes. He was right, of course – he usually was. She just hoped she didn’t suffer the same cruelty at the hands of her own relatives that she had at the hands of the Baron’s servants. If so, it didn’t matter if she was there to get married or not – she wouldn’t stay.

* * *

Amon rode into town, his heart in his throat. He’d been fine since he came to Clear Creek two years ago to work on the hotel. His emotions had been level, even. It was one of the things that made him such a fine craftsman. He had steady hands.

But not today. Today he felt as if he was caught in one of those California earthquakes. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

Well, that braggart Clinton Moresy was back – that might be part of it. He’d always managed to get a burr under Amon’s saddle. The man was a bald-faced liar, not to mention a cheat and occasionally a drunkard. And he had a squeaky voice that set Amon’s teeth on edge. All in all, Clinton was, to use Jasper’s colorful expression, “bad news on burnt toast.” He rolled his eyes at the thought as he rode up to the bank, brought Manuel to a stop in front of a hitching post and dismounted.

A man caught his eye, mainly because he sensed he was a stranger. When he looked closer, he was right – not only had he never seen this man before, but he’d never seen the woman who accompanied him either.

But suddenly he knew who she must be. His match … his bride … his intended … whatever the term, she was the one Sadie and Belle Cooke had chosen for him. Or was it the other way around? Under the circumstances, of course, it didn’t matter – he’d already said no, and had no regrets about that. She certainly was beautiful, though. And tall – something he appreciated, being so tall himself. The top of her head would at least reach his nose …

Amon pulled his hat down and turned away to check his saddle as they passed. He didn’t want to be identified as the man who didn’t want her. But how could he be if she’d never seen him before? Though for all he knew, Harrison’s wife had already given her a full description of him. Gads, he hoped not.

He turned and watched them head for the hotel. Yes, that had to be his so-called intended all right. At least she looked sturdy, not some petite little china doll that wouldn’t last through an Oregon winter. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want anything to do with marriage – even in January with the snow flying every which way, he wanted to be out in the open. He couldn’t make a woman suffer that with him – or stay inside for her sake.

Amon pushed the thought aside and went into the bank. “Morning, Levi,” he greeted and walked up to the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Cotter,” Levi Stone said with a grin. “What brings you to town?”

“Money,” he told him. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Of course. Putting in, or taking out?”

“Putting in,” Amon pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and set it on the counter.

Levi dumped it out and counted the coins. “Well … almost fifty dollars. Business must be good,
nu
?”

“Yes, and I’ve been saving up.”

“Best to keep your money here, then, instead of at the men’s camp. You never know who might have sticky fingers.”

“That’s why I'm here,” he grumbled.

“I see.” Levi glanced around the bank, even though they were the only two in it. “I heard Clinton Moresy was back.”

“You heard right.”

“He keeps getting his fingers into things, someone's liable to shoot him.”

“True enough.”

Just then the door to the bank burst open. Speak of the devil … Clinton Moresy strode up to the counter, his forehead beaded in sweat. “Levi! D’I leave any money here?”

Levi’s expression made him look like he’d suddenly developed a toothache. “You still have an account with us, Mr. Moresy, but it’s at zero. You took everything out before you left town, remember?”

“Curses!” Clinton groaned. He turned to Amon. “Cotter, kin I borrow a dollar from ya?”

Amon raised a single eyebrow at the question. “What for?”

“Gotta buy sumpin’ pretty fer a lady. I’m gettin’ hitched!”

“Married?!” Levi said. He looked amused by the thought, as if Clinton had told them he was buying a baby dragon. The two seemed about as likely.

“Who?” Amon asked, though he already knew. His stomach knotted.

“New gal in town!” Clinton said proudly.