August (Prairie Grooms, #1) (15 page)

Penelope couldn’t help herself – she grinned like the Cheshire cat. “It would seem so, Mr. Bennett.”

“May I escort you outside to ask ... some other questions that might offend polite society?”

“No, you may not,” Belle spoke for the first time.

Everyone in the room was silent.

She smiled. “Leastwise not until you finish getting her free of her wedding dress. We are nowhere near finished with it!”

Everyone began laughing, even Mrs. Dunnigan, and the tension drained from the room. And soon enough, August had cut the last few threads linking Penelope’s wedding dress to her skirt. He stood again and offered her his arm, she took it, and he started to escort her out the door. Unable to help himself, he asked in a loud voice. “Did I mention to you I burp?”

* * *

P
enelope laughed out loud at his remark, though part of her mind was telling her she should be appalled. If her mother knew what they’d been speaking of, she would be thoroughly scandalized!
“What nonsense!”
she’d say.
“How could you even think to marry such a vulgar creature?”

Penelope’s laughing stopped. She stood on the edge of the first step leading to the street and tried to compose herself. This was no gentleman’s arm she held onto. This was a rough, wild man of the West – admittedly, not as rough or wild as some, but a veritable cave-dweller compared to English high society. There would be no fancy balls for him to attend with her; no formal dinners, soirees, musicales, nor rides through Hyde Park. Not to mention no townhouse in London to escape to, or country manor parties to attend. Her life would consist of hard work, endless days of cooking, sewing, cleaning – none of which she was any good at – and nights of ...

She froze.

“What’s the matter?” asked August. “Are you feeling well? You’re white as a sheet.”

She looked at him, but said nothing.

“You aren’t gonna faint again, are you?”

“No. I was ... just thinking ...”

He glanced to the mercantile doors behind them, before he pulled her down the stairs. “Come with me – I think I know just what you need.” He led her across the street and up another set of stairs. They then strolled leisurely down the boardwalk as if they’d been together for years.

“Mr. Bennett, we shouldn’t be alone.”

“We’re not alone.”

“But the others are still in the mercantile ...”

August pointed down the boardwalk. “But the sheriff’s deputies are sitting out in front of the sheriff’s office. They know me, and they can see us plain as day. The one with the beat-up hat is Henry Fig, Fanny’s husband. The other is Bran O’Hare - he’s the newest deputy. He was a lawman in Texas before he came out here – and before that, he was one in Ireland, I believe.”

“With all that experience, why is he a deputy and not a sheriff?” Penelope asked. She was enjoying the distraction – needed it, perhaps.

“I recall him saying he wanted to keep his life simple from now on. He’d had enough of what he called ‘the heavy stuff’.”

Penelope nodded, her eyes widening. If Deputy O’Hare had survived the terrible famine that had ravaged Ireland barely a decade ago, he must have seen things that were quite “heavy” indeed ...

They continued walking until they reached the hotel. August opened the door and ushered her inside. He led her to the front counter and rang a tiny bell. Seth popped his head out of a door and smiled. “August, what brings you here?”

“We’ve come for tea.”

“Tea?” Penelope asked in shock.

August turned to her and smirked. “Ma’am, you will find that I am not entirely uncivilized.”

Her mouth dropped open and she flushed beet-red. Clearly, he was more gentlemanly than she’d given him credit for – finger-sucking notwithstanding. When was she going to learn not to underrate him?

August had turned his attention back to Seth. “May we seat ourselves?”

“Of course,” Seth told him. “You know where to go. I’ll let Mrs. Upton know she has a customer.”

August led Penelope through the hotel lobby and into the dining room. Penelope gaped at him the entire time as he chose a corner table, pulled out her chair for her, and then, after she was settled, seated himself. “What?” he calmly asked. “Surprised?”

“I had no idea men like you had ... tea.”
Men like you
... she cringed. Ye gods, could she have possibly made a
worse
choice of words?

August seemed to take it well, however. “You have to remember, this is the Cooke family’s territory. They’ve had a huge influence over Clear Creek the last few years. There are a lot of things done here because of them that you won’t see other places in the West. Believe it or not, quite a few men come in here for tea – they just come later than this, at the more traditional hour. We just happen to be early.”

Penelope nodded, shame- faced. “Of course. I am truly sorry – I should not have made such suppositions ...”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Red. You didn’t know. And let’s face it – Clear Creek is different even from most places in Oregon, let alone England.”

Penelope smiled at him in gratitude. “Thank you for not being angry.”

“Angry? With my beautiful bride? Perish the thought!”

That made her smile wider. To let her blush pass, she looked around the room. “I must admit, I have trouble picturing this place full of rough-and-tumble men of the West, sitting under crystal chandeliers and sipping Darjeeling ...”

August chuckled. “It is quite a sight, I will admit.”

“I shall have to see this wonder for myself,” she replied playfully.

“Consider it done, Miss Red. I’ll bring you by tomorrow when the others are here.”

“August?” They turned to find Seth coming toward them. “I forgot Mrs. Upton is attendin’ the ladies’ sewin’ circle, so I’ll be takin’ care of you.”

August squinted at him. “Seth ... have you ever made tea before?”

“Uh, no ... but how hard can it be? Can’t be no different than makin’ coffee.”

August shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Red – maybe this wasn’t such a good idea ...”

“Nonsense,” she told him. “If this man is to be married to my sister, he must learn how to make a proper cup of tea. She deserves no less.” She looked up at Seth. “Are we alone in the establishment?”

Seth looked around. “Yes, ma’am.”

“She means in the hotel,” August added.

“I ain’t stupid, August – I know what she meant. The hotel’s empty, ma’am – we’re the only ones here except for Mr. Van Cleet, and he’s in his office.”

“Then you won’t mind if I accompany you to the kitchen?” Penelope asked.

Seth breathed a sigh of relief. “You go right ahead, ma’am, I’d love to see how you English make a cup of tea.”

She smiled at August. “Well, then, let’s get to it, shall we?”

August smiled back. They got up from the table and followed Seth into the hotel kitchen where once again, Penelope found herself in a small piece of Heaven. Mrs. Upton’s domain was immaculate, without a hint of the dusty, untamed frontier to be had. All the latest gadgets and conveniences were there, some of which Penelope had never seen before, but looked very modern. “Look at all of this!” she exclaimed. “Why, if my mother’s cook was here, she’d faint from envy.”

“It sure is fancy,” August agreed. “This must have cost Mr. Van Cleet a fortune.”

“Mr. Van Cleet spared no expense building this place – you oughta know that, August,” said Seth. “You were his foreman, after all.”

“True, but I left before all this was put in.”

“It’s wonderful,” Penelope said with a sigh. “It makes me
want
to learn how to cook.”

August grimaced at that. But she was unfazed as she went to the stove and checked the kettle to see if it needed more water. “Oh, lovely, it’s full. Where is the tea kept?”

“Up here, I think,” said Seth as he opened a cupboard and peeked inside. “Yep, here it is.” He handed her a tin and then helped locate the other items she needed. In no time she had a tea service prepared and the water poured. Not bothering to return to the main dining room, they each took a chair at a table against one wall, and sat waiting for the tea to steep.

“I sure hope Mrs. Upton won’t be angry if we take some of these cookies she baked this mornin’,” said Seth, setting a plate of the treats on the table. “She’s mighty territorial over her kitchen.”

“Like Mrs. Dunnigan is over the kitchen at the saloon,” August added with a laugh.

“Why does Mrs. Dunnigan cook for the saloon?” asked Penelope, curious.

“It seems a few years ago, the saloon burned down, and Mrs. Dunnigan and her husband Wilfred took in the Mulligans while it was being rebuilt,” August began.

“Yep, and no sooner had they rebuilt it, the mercantile burned down,” Seth told her. “So the Dunnigans stayed at the saloon with the Mulligans. But Mrs. Dunnigan drove ‘em kinda crazy, so someone suggested she start cooking up stuff, just to keep her out of Mrs. Mulligan’s hair.”

“And the rest is history,” August said. “When I first came to town, I was pleasantly surprised to find the saloon was more of a restaurant. But I wasn’t going to argue. Besides, Mrs. Dunnigan makes the best pot roast in the territory.”

Penelope laughed. “Sounds like a fantastic tale.”

“It’s the truth,” said Seth. “And you’ll find folks ‘round here are proud of it.”

She giggled at his remark then glanced around the kitchen. Maybe coming here wasn’t going to be so bad after all. The hotel was modern, and August could be too when the mood struck him. Or rather, he was as polite and well-mannered as could be hoped for out on the rough edge of civilization.

Perhaps she’d spent too many months on the long journey west picturing a town full of ill-mannered men and uncouth women, believing all the stories she’d heard an ocean away. But that wasn’t the case here in Clear Creek, and she realized she was beginning to like the quirky little town. In time, perhaps she too would be proud to call it home.

P
enelope watched in silence as August and Seth sipped their tea and talked about farming, cows, broken fences, the Triple-C Ranch and Mr. Van Cleet’s hotel. For them it was everyday conversation, the kind one finds in small little pockets of humanity. It was calming listening to their voices, and she felt herself relax in her chair to the point of drowsiness.

“Miss Red?”

She snapped to attention. “W-what?”

“Children, Seth asked you about children?”

She looked at Seth, mortified. “Good heavens, I ... I hadn’t heard you. I’m terribly sorry.”

He smiled. “Has your sister mentioned children? Does ... does she want them?”

Penelope sighed in relief. She had thought he was addressing
her
preference. To be frank, she hadn’t thought about having children. Just thinking about getting married had been enough to occupy her mind. “I ... suppose. To be honest, we never talked about it on the journey.”

“What did you talk about?”

Her face fell, as her mouth slowly opened. Did she dare tell them? She swallowed hard. “Two things.”

August narrowed his gaze in curiosity. “What two things would that be?”

She looked between them. There was no use attempting to lie. “To stay or to go ...”

“Stay or go?” Seth asked. “You don’t mean to stay
here
or ... go somewhere
else
, do you?”

She looked to the table and nodded. “I apologize, I ...”

August pushed his hat off his forehead. “Now, don’t that beat all? You weren’t even gonna give any of us a chance, were ya?”

“That’s not what I said. I –”

“You don’t have to say it. You’ve acted pretty high and mighty ever since you first got off that stage. What’s the matter – are you afraid the three of us weren’t gonna be good enough for the likes of you?”

Her mouth hung open in shock. “I did
not
say that! Ever!”

August took a deep breath through his nose. “Well, what about now? What do you think of ...” He waved a hand at the kitchen. “... all of this? Is this good enough to make you stay?”

Seth tried to pour oil upon the waters. “August, take it easy. You don’t have to make it sound like she robbed a bank or somethin’.”

It didn’t help. “Trust me, Seth – you haven’t seen her in high dudgeon.”

“High dudgeon?!” Penelope stood. “Mr. Bennett, I’ll not sit here and listen to you insult me!”

“I am not insulting you,
Miss Sayer
- I’m informing Seth about you.”

Seth help up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I’m still trying to figure out why the two of you are fightin’.”

“We are not fighting,” August said. “We are having a healthy discussion.”

“Hah!” Penelope spat. “If this is your idea of a ‘healthy discussion,’ what does an argument look like – pistols at twenty paces?”

August pointed at Penelope. “See, now that is high dudgeon right there!”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Really!” she huffed

“Really,” Angus growled back.

“Oh, this is gettin’ fun!” Seth said with a smile

Penelope scowled at him. “You stay out of this, Mr. Jones. This
discussion
is between Mr. Bennett and myself.”

Seth chuckled. “If you don’t mind me sayin’, you two ain’t been discussin' nothin’. All you’re doin’ is tryin’ to avoid kissin’!”

“What?” she snapped.

August turned on his friend. “Now hold on a goldarned minute, Seth!”

Penelope threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Neither of you are being very gentlemanly,” she remarked coldly

“Now that’s another thing, Miss Red – what exactly is your idea of ‘being gentlemanly’? What do you expect of me? I didn’t exactly grow up in the toolies, you know – growing up in New York state they did teach me a little about how to act.”

“New York? You mean, you’re not from ... here?” Another false assumption, she realized – she had just assumed that Westerners were from, well, the Wild West.

“None of us are originally from
here
, Miss Red – except for the Indians. I grew up in Buffalo, New York, an honest-to-goodness big city by American standards. I have an education, I read books and listen to music and yes, I drink tea. I may not be some son of a duke from London or, or Hastings or someplace with a family crest and a lineage that traces back to the Domesday Book, but I’m no rootin’-tootin’ outlaw either, and I’m trying to treat you as well as I possibly can. I may slip up on occasion, but I’m only human. And if that’s not good enough ... well ...” He ran out of steam and sat down, leaned his chin on his hand and glowered at the tabletop.