August (Prairie Grooms, #1) (13 page)

“Good morning, Fanny! Where are Lucy and the others?”

“Oh, they’ll be along. She was pickin’ up Mabel. That Tom disappeared again this mornin’, and they don’t know where he’s gotten off to. His pa’s gonna be mad as a rattler with that boy if he don’t come back and get his chores done on time.”

“That’s the third time in a month he’s taken off. Where do you suppose he’s going?” asked Belle.

“Don’t know, but a boy that age disappearin’ at odd times ain’t right. He’s up to no good, you’ll see!” Fanny threw in a curt little nod for emphasis.

Sadie shook her head, and looked to Penelope. “Tom Turner’s a fine boy from a fine family.” She leaned toward her and added with a whisper, “don’t believe a word Fanny says.”

Penelope nodded in understanding. Every town had its gossip, and Fanny was obviously Clear Creek’s.

“How old is Tom now – fifteen, sixteen?” asked Belle.

“Old enough to know he shouldn’t be gallivantin’ around the countryside to leave his pa with a bunch of chores!” snapped Fanny.

“Maybe he’s found a young lady,” Constance suggested.

“Impossible,” Fanny said. “There are no unmarried women around, other than yourselves.”

“What about a girl his own age?” added Penelope.

The women looked at one another. “No,” said Sadie. “There are none.”

Before anyone else could comment, Mabel Turner and Lucy White entered the mercantile. “There you are, you little bundle!” Mabel said and went straight for the baby on Sadie’s hip.

Sadie handed Honoria over to her and sighed. “Where’s Mrs. Mulligan?”

“Here I am!” the saloon owner’s wife called as she came through the door. In her wake were Grandma Waller, Annie the preacher’s wife, Elsie Drake and Susara Kincaid.

“Good, we’re all here!” Sadie said with a satisfied smile. “Let’s get underway. Mrs. Dunnigan?” she yelled, looking up at the ceiling.

Several sets of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs from the living quarters above. Mrs. Dunnigan came through the curtained doorway behind the store counter, accompanied by two other women about her age. “Hellooo!” one of the women greeted, her eyes twinkling.

For the next few moments, Belle introduced Penelope and her sisters to the rest of Clear Creek’s female population. Sally Upton was the woman with the twinkling eyes and merry demeanor. Her sister Mary Beth was more subdued, but no less bright when she talked. They were Edith's sisters and had been out visiting Lucy White the day they toured the hotel. Lucy White herself seemed very shy at first, but eventually warmed up. And Mrs. Dunnigan was, of course, simply Mrs. Dunnigan. Penelope liked the woman, cranky as she was, and maneuvered into a seat next to her once they went to work on her dress.

“How do you like Clear Creek so far?” Lucy White asked.

All three sisters looked at her. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we find it most charming,” Penelope told her.

“Charmin’ ain’t the word I’d use for it!” quipped Mrs. Dunnigan. “There’s outlaws in these parts, you know!”

“Now, Mrs. Dunnigan,” Susara said. “Don’t scare them.”

“You and Annie ought to know – you’ve had run-ins with that kind of filth!” she barked back.

Susara, a pretty blonde, looked as if she were counting to ten before speaking again. “Now, Mrs. Dunnigan, I had a run-in with Indians, not outlaws.”

“Indians?” Eloise squeaked. “Red savages?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse my youngest sister. She and Constance are both enamored with the thought of meeting a wild savage.”

“Well, they’re not likely to see any ‘wild savages’ ‘round here,” Susara told her. “The Indians in these parts are very friendly. If it hadn’t been for them, I might not be here today.”

The other women nodded, and Penelope wondered what Susara’s story was. She was about to ask when the bell above the door rang, and in walked Ryder Jones. Constance’s eyes lit up as she looked at him, and she pricked her finger. “Ow!”

Ryder was at her side in three steps. “You all right, ma’am?”

“Of course she’s all right!” Mrs. Dunnigan said with a scowl. “Wilfred!” she yelled at the ceiling overhead. “Customer!”

Penelope pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at Mrs. Dunnigan. She was so wonderfully crass. In London, Penelope and her sisters would have been appalled by her behavior, but out here in the wilderness, her bellicosity had made her a pillar of strength.

Wilfred’s footsteps thundering down the stairs pulled her out of her musings. He popped out from behind the curtain and manned his post at the front counter. “Howdy, Ryder! What can I do you for?”

“I need nails, and Cutty here wants some flour and beans,” Ryder said as he tore his gaze from Constance and Eloise.

“Cutty?” Wilfred mumbled and looked behind Ryder. No one had noticed the disheveled man standing in the doorway. His hair was matted, his long beard and mustache had been braided together to hang down his shirtfront, and he stunk like the mouth of the Thames. He was the most bedraggled specimen Penelope had ever seen.

He took one look at her and froze, then began to nervously twist his hat in his hands. Finally he pulled his gaze away and shuffled to the front counter.

His reaction piqued her interest. She studied him, and noted there was something familiar about him, something half-hidden behind the mess of unkempt manhood. She saw his worn-out boots and immediately took pity on him. The poor thing appeared to have not had a decent meal in months, and his clothes looked as if they had once been ...

She sat up in her chair and looked more closely. What he was wearing looked at one time to have been a fine suit of clothes – and was that the remains of a top hat in his hands? She shuddered as a sick feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach. What was it about this poor wretch?

“Penelope?”

She jumped in her chair. “I ... I beg your pardon?”

Constance gave her an impatient sigh. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

“No ... I’m afraid not,” she told her, her back stiffening.

“I
said
, I think you should have buttons on the collar. Remember how Mother’s dressmaker put them on the collar of Angeline Peabody’s wedding dress?”

“Angeline Peabody?!” Penelope said in disgust. “However did we get to the subject of
her
?” Her sisters knew well that she and Angeline did not get along, and for good reason.

“Oh, never mind about Angeline – I’m talking about her
dress
,” Constance retorted.

But Penelope’s attention had already been drawn back to the vagabond standing next to Mr. Jones at the front counter. He spoke in low tones, and she watched Mr. Jones glance at the group of women, smile, then turn his attention back to the poor chap. They were obviously discussing the women, but what were they saying? And why did she have such an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach?

She shook her head and returned her focus to the sewing circle. “I do not wish to have buttons on the collar,” she finally said. She looked at the ladies seated around her, hoping to distract herself from the strange feelings she was having. “I do so thank all of you for this, I could not have sewn a dress for myself had my life depended on it.”

“Aw, we don’t mind at all,” Belle told her. “Right, Constance?”

“Ah ... what?” Constance asked, her eyes glued to Ryder Jones.

“Constance,” Belle said in a soft voice. “Pay attention to your sewing, please, or you’ll prick your finger again. There will be time enough for gawking later.”

Eloise burst into giggles. Constance glared at her.

Susara and Annie exchanged a quick look. “Is Ryder the man who sent away for you?” Annie whispered to Constance.

Constance nodded enthusiastically.

“Does
he
know?” Mrs. Dunnigan blurted, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“He does
now,
” Mrs. Mulligan muttered.

“What do you mean?” asked Susara Kincaid. “How would he not know?”

“Do I know what?” Ryder Jones asked as he sauntered over to their circle. Penelope watched as her sister turned pink.

“Oh,” Sadie said, “we were just making wedding plans.”

He looked between Eloise and Constance. “Which one o’ you pretty ladies is mine?”

“I am!” Constance cried without reservation.

Sadie and Belle threw their faces in their hands and groaned. Mrs. Dunnigan harrumphed to herself. Fanny Fig’s face lit up with the flames of new information. And Penelope and Eloise looked at each other, and in unison rolled their eyes.

Ryder, meanwhile, looked Constance up and down like she was a horse, cocking his head this way and that before he took a step back, swallowed, and gave her a weak nod. “Land sakes, ma’am,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But I’ll be hornswoggled if you ain’t the prettiest thing I ever did see ...”

The bedraggled chap shuffled up behind him, and grabbed his arm. “C’mon, Ryder, let’s go,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Now, Cutty, there ain’t no rush,” Ryder said with a smile, unable to peel his eyes from Constance.

Sadie let go a heavy sigh. “Very well, now you know. But hear this, Ryder Jones – you‘d best get your house in order or there won’t be a wedding. I will not have Miss Sayer sleeping out of doors, do you understand?”

“Oh, I don’t really mi-ouch!” Constance’s breathless reply was cut short, and her eyes finally turned from Ryder, by a jab of Eloise’s elbow.

Penelope saw the vagabond’s mouth form the word “Sayer” just before his eyes turned dark. A chill went up her spine and she studied him once more, still trying to place the sense that she knew him from somewhere. But where? And how could she?

“I hear ya, Mrs. Cooke,” Ryder replied. “And don’t you worry none – Cutty here is helpin’ me get it done. Ain’tcha, Cutty?”

Cutty’s eyes darted between the women like a horsefly before finally landing on Constance. “Sure enough,” he said with an odd, mumbled twang. “Don’t worry none, I’ll ... see he gets done in time fer yer weddin’.”

Constance, for once, was beyond speech, and could only stare at them and nod.

“Now scoot, Ryder,” Sadie ordered. “As soon as you have your place done, you may begin courting Miss Sayer. And not one day sooner”

Ryder jumped at the words. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Cooke! Right away!” He shot out the door, the man Cutty shuffling along behind him.

“My goodness, if that man gets any more excited, he’s liable to burn his house down!” Grandma Waller commented. “Ain’t he got that place way out by the tree line?”

“Yes,” Sadie said firmly. “And I will
not
see his bride shivering outside at night. You know how these cowboys can be.”

“He’s a
cowboy
?” Constance said dreamily.

Now it was Penelope’s turn to groan. Constance had talked of cowboys non-stop on the ship to America, and every sight of a man on a horse during the land portion of their journey had sent her into a paroxysm of excitement. Now that she was going to marry one, Penelope hoped her ideal of what a cowboy was supposed to be wasn’t cruelly crushed.

“Ryder is more of a horseman now,” Belle told her. “Colin tells me he plans to breed them.”

“A horseman ...” Constance said, her eyes still sparkling.

“Does mine have his house in order?” Eloise inquired.

Sadie smiled. “He’s working on it. Now we need to return to the business at hand. None of you are going to want to get married wearing nothing but a day dress. Back to work.”

The other women nodded and returned to their stitching as Constance and Eloise stared longingly at the mercantile doors, both knowing their intended grooms were out there somewhere. Penelope, however, frowned to herself as she fumbled with her stitching. What was it about that Cutty fellow that so bothered her?

Perhaps in time she would find out ...

* * *

“A
ugust! August, I talked to her!” Ryder cried happily as he caught August coming out of the saloon.

“You’ve been over to the mercantile, then?” he asked.

“Yeah, every woman in town is in there. They’s workin’ on a weddin’ dress, from the looks of it. You had yer lunch already? Cutty an’ I thought we’d eat with ya.”

August took in the sad form of Cutty the drifter, and shook his head. “Just ate. I think I’ll wander over to the mercantile and get a licorice whip to chase down Mrs. Dunnigan’s stew. Mr. Mulligan’s serving up lunch today. Be sure to ask for bread and a spoon – he’s forgetting to set things out on the table properly.”

Ryder laughed. “He’s got spoiled, having ol’ Mrs. Dunnigan cook for the saloon. With all these weddins, he’s gonna have to actually work for a change. Mrs. Dunnigan ain’t gonna have time fer it fer awhile.”

“Weddings?” Cutty asked, his voice a rasp.

“Three, to be exact,” August told him. “Mine first.”

“An’ mine’ll be second, if I have anything to say about it!” added Ryder.

“Who’s the third?” Cutty asked with a cough.

“My brother Seth. He gets the pretty li’l blonde.”

“Three sisters ...” Cutty remarked.

“Yes, sir. They came all the way from England to get husbands,” August said.

“How ... how nice,” Cutty mumbled to himself.

August eyed him in confusion before he said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I think I’ll go sneak a peek at my bride.” He tipped his hat and, with a smile, headed for the mercantile. But he felt Cutty’s eyes follow him, and wondered how the poor man was faring. He made a mental note to ask Ryder the next time he saw him – if he wasn’t able to ask Cutty himself.

He cut across the street and up the boardwalk to his destination, and took in the wagons parked outside. With every woman in town camped out in Dunnigan’s, then lunchtime checkers would be held outside the Sheriff’s office. There was no way Wilfred would be willing to play in the mercantile in the midst of a bevy of chattering females. Come to think of it though, he didn’t see Wilfred down the street setting up the board yet. Maybe he was stuck minding the store while his wife sewed.

Hmmm ...
August grinned as an idea formed, and went inside.

The bell above the door rang, announcing his arrival. Miss Red’s head snapped up at his entrance, but then so did every other head bent over the dress the women were working on. Sadie Cooke spied him and glared accordingly.