Mail Order Bride – Charlotte's Summer: Clean Sweet Western Cowboy Romance (Seasons Mail Order Brides Book 1) (7 page)

J
unior’s hand
slotted perfectly inside Charlotte’s as they crossed the street and he skipped beside her all the way to the barber’s. The doorbell chimed. Two layback chairs took up most of the space right down the middle of the store, along with a wooden counter, a cash box and a pot of black ink that was so covered in hair clippings that it looked like a receipt hadn’t been issued in months – or perhaps maybe Zeke just hadn’t cleaned in that long?

“Wh … wh, why this must be the lovely lady taking Mr. Ackerman’s hand in marriage. I’m … I’m Zeke Harrison. It’s ni … nice to finally meet you.”

Zeke noticed his wrinkled fingers when he stretched them out in front of him and he pondered some at how age had crept up on him so suddenly. He hadn’t even noticed its arrival. The young lady who’d been causing such a stir for the last twenty-four hours stood in front of him with a doe-eyed look on her face. She swallowed a couple of times and Zeke didn’t miss the apprehension in her expression as she accepted his proffered hand.

If his nerves weren’t so shot he’d have been making a fortune from his small business, being that the portion of men in the town outnumbered the women by two to one, not to mention his proximity to the saloon. Give a man a whiskey or three and suddenly he’s full of bravado and out to impress. But as it was, he knew his jittery fingers had scared most folk off. “Come in and grab a seat, I’ll be just a moment sharpnin’ me scissors and then we’ll make a start. The usual, Junior?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where you from, Miss Charlotte, if … if … you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oklahoma, originally. After my daddy passed away I was sent to live in an orphanage in Seattle for ten years.”

Zeke placed the sharpening stone back on the counter and blew the filings to the floor. He wrapped a cape over the boy’s shoulders. “And now you’re looking to marry ’round these parts? Had enough of city living?”

“No Sir, I liked it well enough in Seattle, but unforeseen circumstances drove me out of town once I turned eighteen. It was time for a change. Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you go looking for it.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more. What do you think of Conrad?”

“Well, I think … I think it might just be the prettiest part of the whole country. I can see myself fitting in just fine. Everyone’s been so kind and hospitable, I sure do feel welcome.”

“And how did … did … uh, you and Mr. Ackerman become acquainted? Forgive me for prying, but, but, but I don’t see a ring on your finger there, yet the word on the street is you’ll be married by the end of the week.”

Charlotte glanced down at her bare hand and a twinge of sadness touched her heart. Zeke was right. Thomas hadn’t officially proposed to her. Not that she’d been expecting a fancy ring or anything of the sort, but it might have been nice for him to make it official at least, ask for her hand in the rightful manner, so as she might refer to him as her fiancé when his name was brought up in conversation.

Through the smudgy window behind her, Charlotte noticed Mabel watching her like a hawk. The sheer, lace curtains were no disguise and Mabel should have been ashamed of herself for thinking otherwise. It must have been driving her crazy not knowing what conversation was taking place, and what Zeke was finding out about the puzzling bride from back west. “The word on the street … being Mabel?”

Zeke chuckled. “You’ve worked her out already? Well, g … g … good for you.”

Charlotte smiled right back at him, not having a problem in the slightest with Zeke asking her questions. She didn’t mind being the center of attention inside his little store. She felt like she could trust him with anything. Something told her Zeke was used to being talked about too, but she wasn’t about to get to the bottom of that story anytime soon.

So she put it out of her mind and went on to explain things. “I responded to a letter Thomas sent to the matrimonial newspaper. Mrs. Fredrick back home started up a mail order bride business and I was her very first client. My dear friend Beth from Saint Anne’s helped me write out a reply and before I knew it I was on a train heading to Montana. That’s about the sum of it.”

“Why doesn’t Beth come here too,” asked Junior, turning his head so suddenly Charlotte feared he might lose an ear or something equally as important when Zeke’s hands jerked and twitched with surprise. “That way you won’t be so lonely and there’ll be another pretty face wandering around town.”

“Can’t have too many of them now, can we?” said Zeke, swiveling Junior straight again in the chair. “Now sit still or your Pa will have me hung and quartered.”

Charlotte thought for a moment, giving the idea some genuine consideration. “Well, while that sounds like a mighty fine plan, Junior, unless you can think of another eligible man in town who might wish to propose marriage to her, then she would have no good reason to come here. You see, the truth of the matter is…” Charlotte took a deep breath then and closed her eyes for a moment when a brief flash of pain stabbed at her stomach. “Beth doesn’t have the need to escape Saint Anne’s, not like I did at least.”

Zeke’s unsteady hands shook even worse when a dark, menacing haze settled over the store. To his way of thinking, it was the words that were left unspoken that often said so much more about a person than if they were screaming right there in your face. Charlotte didn’t need to explain herself. He’d seen that look in a girl’s eyes once before and he’d never forget it. It was fear, unbridled and rampant. “You’re safe here, Miss Charlotte. Ain’t … ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you no more. Please don’t be scared.”

Charlotte sighed, relaxed her shoulders and smiled over at the sweet man. The sentiment meant more to her than he’d ever know. She wasn’t sure what was making her melt into the seat more – the blistering sun beating through the glass behind her, or Zeke’s warm words. Whichever it was, she had never felt as utterly content as she did right there in that moment.

Over the course of the next half hour, Zeke and Charlotte continued to discuss all manner of things – from poetry and the Gospel, to baking and travel. But Junior wasn’t listening to anything anymore. Their words were just a jumbled mess playing somewhere in the background to his thoughts.

The most brilliant of all his ideas – and there’d been some doozeys in his short time – had just popped into his head and he grinned, first over at Charlotte, who was none the wiser to his elaborate plan, and then over at Zeke, who simply thought the boy was being as wistful as always and promptly spun his head back toward the wall, so as he could finish tidying up the back.

Junior figured it would take every ounce of his concentration not to forget the three details he needed to remember. He repeated them over and over in his head until they were set there like stone.

Saint Anne
’
s Orphanage … Elizabeth Edwards … Mrs. Fredrick.

Although Junior loved his Ma more than anything else – more than the stars and the moon and the trees and the leaves – and no one would ever replace her in his heart, he knew his Pa deserved to be happy again.

The real sort of happy.

Not the pretend sort.

Not the sort that made you walk off down the paddock and wipe your eyes when you thought no one was watching.

And so, with it still fresh in his mind, Junior hatched a plan right there in the barber shop to send a letter off to Seattle forthwith. If he had his way, and he knew he would, then Miss Elizabeth Edwards would soon be traveling to Conrad, Montana to marry his Pa.

Now, just one problem, he thought to himself …
if only I could write
.

C
harlotte and Junior
finished up their tea and cake and thanked Louise for her generosity. Junior was up to something, it was as plain as day, the way he was whispering to Louise and sneaking off in the diner – but Charlotte couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Right next door to the diner was the mercantile and Junior skipped on ahead so he could hold the door open for Charlotte, just like his Pa had always taught him. His Pa had manners like no other man he knew.

Oh, yes.
Miss Carrot Head
was gonna love him; there was no doubt about that. And now he had Louise on board there was no stopping him.

“Why, thank you, how very gentlemanly,” Charlotte gushed, entering the store and taking a basket from the pile that were stacked up against the wall. There were a few rows of dried goods at the very back of the store so she headed in that direction first and took her time picking out the ingredients while she wandered the shelves. Approaching the counter with her arms laden with enough goods to see them through until the middle of next week, she noticed Junior standing over by the candy, his nose pressed to the glass.

“Can I get one, Miss Charlotte, please, please?”

Rattling around in the bottom of her purse were the few coins left from the money Thomas had sent her for the train trip. Charlotte knew it wouldn’t stretch far, but Junior’s desperate pleas and his trench-like dimples were impossible to ignore. “You decide which one you want and I’ll meet you by the register in a few minutes.”

“Oh, I don’t need a few minutes. I want one of those swan necks.”

“Swan necks?”

“Yes, Ma’am, swan necks, see … right there.”

Charlotte looked first at the boy, and then over at the clerk who’d wandered over to serve them. “How on earth do you come up with a name like that? It’s just plain old licorice to everyone else.”

“Weeeeell…” Junior began, drawing the word out as long as he could. “If there’s one thing I learnt from my Ma before she died, it’s that
things aren
’
t always as they appear
. She used to tell me that all the time. And she also used to say that
there
’
s beauty in everything, you just gotta look for it sometimes
.”

“I certainly can’t argue with logic like that. Two
swan necks
coming right up.”

It was well before noon when the pair returned to the Ackerman ranch. The wheels of the wagon scraped against the rocky drive as they pulled to a stop over by the stables. As per Thomas’s strict instructions, Charlotte tied the reins to the fence and let the horses drink freely from the overflowing troughs. The air was still warm enough, but the sky had lost its previous sparkle, replaced now with patchy, grey rainclouds that threatened to burst at any moment.

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte,” Junior called as he jumped from the wagon, running backwards a few steps before he righted himself again and dashed across the field. Charlotte stopped a moment and watched him. His small legs were quick and agile and in no time at all he had made it over to his father.

Earl and Thomas, both shirtless and sweating, were sawing and nailing planks of wood together in some fashion Charlotte knew nothing of. Earl stood tall as his son approached and he smiled so big that it lit up the darkening sky.

Earl laughed and ruffled his fingers through Junior’s hair. Thomas looked up as well then, and his head jerked toward the house, narrowing his eyes in Charlotte’s direction while he wiped his brow, but it was only a moment before he hunched back over and returned to cutting through the timber with ease.

A loud rumble moved through the air and Thomas drove his arm with even more power, determined to finish up his work before the sky opened up and finished them off for the day.

Charlotte felt the blush creep up her neck at the sight of him. His strong muscles shifting and sliding beneath his skin took her breath away. She couldn’t put a name on what it was she felt, but she knew it probably wasn’t the most lady-like of sensations – so she climbed the stairs with all her parcels and tried to push the feeling away.

She had a job to do and she didn’t have time to be side-tracked with such nonsense. She’d been naive enough to believe she would marry for love, when the cold, hard truth of the matter was that that just wasn’t always the case. Love and pain lived in equal parts, any married couple could testify to that. Charlotte just hoped that, in time at least, Thomas might grow to care for her.

For the hours that followed, Charlotte happily went about stocking the kitchen cabinets and organizing the shelves in the pantry just the way Mistress Belle had taught her. She had purchased another full satchel of flour, some salt, maple syrup and a bag of vegetables that weren’t growing out in the garden – two onions, a bunch of radish and some celery stalks. All the ingredients she needed for the chicken stew she was planning for dinner.

She’d also taken the opportunity to pick up an apron. The two dresses she owned weren’t fancy – house dresses at best – but she couldn’t risk soiling them as they were the only ones she owned. She reminded herself to ask Thomas about buying some material in the not too distant future so she might sew herself up a few more.

Charlotte kept her mind occupied with the business of cleaning and scrubbing down the bench tops and mopping the floors. They probably didn’t need it, but she felt like she was making her mark on the place if she gave everything the once-over, just to be sure. She dusted the ledges and wiped over the bathroom with a damp cloth, all things she’d done many times before.

Changing the bed linen was something else entirely though.

She stood at the end of the bed for a while longer than she’d intended, just staring at the thing. She was unsure of which side she might sleep on in just a few days’ time. She’d been forced to share a lot of things over the years, but sharing a bed wasn’t one of them.

She didn’t know how it would work.

Would they swap sides each night, or would there be a set arrangement? Charlotte shook her head and giggled, figuring she was getting herself worked up over nothing. Surely they would iron out the details once they were actually married.

She replaced the sheets with a fresh set she’d found in the linen cupboard and set the dirty ones to soak in the tub. She would never get them washed and hung out to dry before the weather changed, so that would have to do for the time being.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, thoroughly exhausted, Charlotte took one final look around the house and wiped her hands down the front of her apron. “There, I think that’s everything. I might just get the hang of this yet.”

While the apple pie she’d baked earlier rested on the kitchen bench, cooling some before she glazed the top with sugar water, Charlotte took the opportunity to set the table for lunch and wipe down the cupboards.

Through the open window she noticed some wildflowers dancing about in the breeze, so she decided to go pick a bunch to decorate the center of the table before Thomas came in for lunch. She wasn’t sure if Earl and Junior would be joining them again for a meal, but she wanted to make a good impression just in case. Thomas had set quite the standard with breakfast.

Flitting out through the open door, she bent slightly to gather them up into a small posy. She figured the chances of Thomas owning a vase of any sort were slim to none, but she’d found some tall glasses in the very back of the pantry that could be put to good use. She kept the stems long so they would fit nicely. Just as she walked back inside, Charlotte’s breath suddenly caught and her feet froze on the spot.

“Rosy!” she screamed.

Her lips pursed and her eyes grew wide and wild. Livid wasn’t the right word for what was coursing through her veins. It was so much more than that. She was downright furious. Hour after hour she’d spent making everything just right, and now it was all ruined. The floor was covered in the best part of Charlotte’s delicious apple pie and the walls were smeared with thick, black mud.

Rosy looked up at the sound of her name – slobbering and snorting and snuffling in some disgusting way that turned Charlotte’s stomach, and if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought the pig was doing it on purpose … to taunt her. When Rosy licked her lips, her tongue reaching from one side of her face to the other, Charlotte just about blew her top.

“You stupid animal!” she cried, throwing her arms in the air. “Look what you’ve done!”

Rosy made no attempt to move, choosing instead to lower her head again and gobble down the last few mouthfuls. On instinct, Charlotte lifted the broom from beside the sink and pounded it hard against the side of the door. “Get out … get out of here!”

Once again, Rosy completely ignored the hullabaloo and decided now might be the perfect time to rub her filthy back on the freshly cleaned cupboards as well. Long streaks of hair and muddy soil stained the timber, along with the remains of yesterday’s slops.

“You filthy, good for nothing, ugly…”

Thomas stomped across the living room and marched into the kitchen, swiping the broom straight out of Charlotte’s hand.

“What in God’s name is going on in here?” he shouted.

He’d never in his life thought of lifting a finger to any woman, let alone the only girl that’d ever held a rightful place in his heart, so the thought of Charlotte striking Rosy made his blood boil. “I won’t stand for violence in my house. Not for one minute, do you hear me?”

Charlotte’s face ignited, but for an entirely different reason this time. It had nothing to do with the fact that Thomas was still shirtless and his chest was beading with sweat.

No. Not at all.

It all paled in significance. What she couldn’t see past was the look of absolute horror on his face. “I wasn’t planning on hitting her, she’s pregnant after all. What do you take me for, Thomas?”

“Then what’s this?” Thomas barked, holding the broom up in his clenched fist.

“I was trying to budge the beast, she wouldn’t move even when I told her to and now she’s gone and destroyed your dessert.”

“She’s never done anything like that before.” Thomas looked around the kitchen, taking in the mess. “You sure you didn’t drop the pie by mistake?”

“What?” Charlotte gasped, not believing the audacity of the man.

She took three quick steps toward Thomas, nudging Rosy aside with her leg on the way, and pointed a finger at him so he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that what she was about to say shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Ackerman. I am more than happy to be here and I look forward to becoming your wife, but if you plan on keeping two women in this marriage then I’ll just as happily leave this town of yours and find another handsome, educated, successful man who might be looking for a bride. I’m sure there are plenty of them out there and if push comes to shove, I certainly won’t hesitate in finding one.”

“Wh … what?”

“It’s your choice … so make it!”

Thomas stared at Charlotte, not knowing quite what to make of her. She was headstrong and willful like no other woman he knew. He should be telling her to mind her place right about now and get to cleaning up all the mess, but he couldn’t get past one thing. One very important thing.

“You think I’m handsome?”

Charlotte frowned, ramming her hands on her hips. She couldn’t believe that that was the one thing he’d taken from all her ranting. Her eyes tapered into two thin slits and her lips quivered with anger. “The bible doesn’t take kindly to vanity, Mr. Ackerman. That pretty little church down there might just fall down around you on Sunday.”

Thomas worried some before he spoke. Charlotte sure was in a dangerous mood, and he didn’t want to stoke the fire, but he thought it best to get everything out in the open. “We’re not getting married in the church. It’s been arranged for the preacher to come by the ranch after service and he’ll marry us in the meadow out the back.”

Charlotte’s head whipped up. “Why?”

“Well … uh, you see … with Rosy being pregnant and all … I thought, uh…”

Thomas stopped talking when Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears and he hung his head, scraping his boot against the floor. She suddenly had a look on her face that made him want to shrink back inside himself. She looked like all her dreams had just been crushed by that one single sentence. Being the one responsible for putting such a sad expression on Charlotte’s face near ripped his heart clean in two. He glanced every which way then, not wanting to catch her eye again for fear that the tears might soon spill over.

Charlotte took a deep breath. “You need to choose, Thomas. It’s me or the pig inside the house. I won’t stand for her traipsing around like she owns the place. She has a pen, a mighty fine pen by the looks of it too, and she needs to know when she’s crossed the line.”

“But … I, uh…”

Charlotte stomped her foot. “Me or the pig, Thomas!”

Thomas felt his heart do that silly fluttery thing again and he lowered his eyes to the floor once more. He took in her words, turning them over in his mind until they found their rightful place. With the heaviest of hearts he glanced over at Rosy. Her face was covered in pie and crust and something else that may or may not have been edible in the first place.

Her long lashes blinked slowly against her puffy, round cheeks and she watched him expectedly, like she was just as anxious to hear of his decision.

After a long, agonizing minute Thomas finally said, “Get out Rosy.”