The Sweetest Mail Order Bride (Sweet Creek Brides Book 1) (5 page)

A commotion rose from somewhere farther down the street. A pony neighed. A woman squealed. Caleb didn’t bat an eye. “I’ll send a driver by for you. I’d take you myself, but I have one more house call to make.”

“Fine, then I’ll see you soon.” She tried to pretend she wasn’t sad as he tipped his hat to her and strode away.

His duster trailed behind him, as his long-legged strides took him quickly from her sight. Only when she returned to the sofa did she realize he’d left the envelopes of money behind. No doubt intentionally.

Resigned, she plopped down on the cushion, hurting in a way she couldn’t explain.

A widow. Caleb tromped down the boardwalk, dodging shoppers as he went. No wonder his father had chosen her. Pa would have guessed he would have a soft spot for someone who’d been through burying a spouse. Of course, the girls had been an easy sell.

“Heard about your new bride,” Mrs. Sutmeyer said as she stepped out of the butcher shop. “Congratulations.”

“There isn’t going to be wedding,” he informed her as he pounded by. Best to nip that rumor in the bud. Up ahead his girls were astride their pony—the animal was halfway up the steps at the end of the boardwalk.

“No, Pumpkin!” Gracie huffed out in exasperation. “Turn around. Turn around!”

“Make her back up,” Hope advised, reaching out to give the reins a tug.

Pumpkin neighed in confusion at the contradictory instructions and charged forward onto the boardwalk instead of retreating back to the street.

“That’s gonna be another fine, Doc.” The sheriff moseyed over, his tin badge glinting in the late afternoon sun. “Your girls have been racking them up lately.”

“Just my luck.” Caleb reached out, caught hold of the pony’s bridle. “Sheriff, I’ll stop by on my rounds tomorrow and pay up.”

“I’d appreciate it.” The lawman stood guard, watchful lest the pony charge up onto the boardwalk again.

“Just awful,” a woman was saying as she watched from across the street. “Those poor children.”

“Their mother would be turning in her grave if she knew,” her friend agreed.

Caleb turned his back, trying not to hear anything more. He knew he was failing as a father. He may have made light of the situation, making jokes with Clementine, but the truth was a painful thing. Marriage had broken his heart, and Lena’s death when the twins were small had shattered those broken pieces.

True, the girls did need a mother’s guidance. There was no doubt about that. Look at them on their pony. No other child in town—girl or boy—could cause this much commotion in so little time.

“Back up, Pumpkin.” He exerted enough pressure to convince the mischievous pony to descend the stairs and return to the street.

“Whew!” Gracie wiped sweat from her brow.

“Thanks, Pa!” Hope flashed him her best grin.

“See ya at home!” Gracie reined the pony, as if to head off at a dash down the street.

He was smart enough not to let go of the bridle. The pony stood in place, watching him resentfully. She wanted to run wildly up the street, too.

“You girls are coming with me.” Time to put his foot down and set some stricter rules. The ones he’d had didn’t seem to be working. “No pony riding for a week.”

“No, Pa!”

“Pa, no!”

“Pumpkin stays in her stall or in her corral. She doesn’t step hoof outside those boundaries. Understood?”

“What about if there’s a big storm and the barn roof caves in?” Gracie wanted to know. “Can she leave then?”

“Or what about a fire? She’d have to leave or she’d burn up to a crisp.”

“Yeah, or if the river flooded, she’d drown. Glub, glub glub.”

“Stop looking for technicalities, you two.” Putting his foot down, that’s what he was doing. Taking control of the situation.

As they headed down the street, he nodded toward the women on the boardwalk, whispering their disapproval to themselves. He tipped his hat toward one of the deputies who was watching the proceedings along with the sheriff. And then there was Clementine Parks.

She stood with the sun on her back, outlined in golden light. In her patched dress and ringlet curls, she looked fresh-faced and beautiful, outshining her poverty. Her features were porcelain. Her sweetness captivating.

Not that he was noticing.

“Mrs. Clementine!” Gracie hollered. “Do you like Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, do you like her?” Hope echoed. “She’s the best pony. We love her.”

“She’s certainly spunky.” The woman’s genuine affection for the girls was incandescent. Unlike the other women in town, there was no hint of disapproval, no stern looks. Just sincerity. Somehow that made her all the more beautiful. “I had a pony very much like her when I was your age. Her name was Mrs. Wiggles and she had black spots.”

“You can ride Pumpkin any time you want!” Gracie offered, leaning back to shout over her shoulder. “Just come on by.”

“Yeah, come on by!” Hope chimed in.

Caleb took one last look over his shoulder at Clementine, and his heart went
thump.
Like it was coming to life and beating for the first time.

“Be good girls!” she called out. “See you soon!”

And that’s all it took. Now the town knew his business, knew for sure that the rumor about a mail-order bride come to marry him was true. He groaned. He was never gonna live that down.

“You girls wait right here for me. I’ve got to get Ed.” He untied his gelding from the hitching post. He could feel Clementine’s gaze on him even from a distance, as heavy as a touch. It was as if he could feel her loneliness, feel the truest places in her.

Was that compassion burrowing into his heart? A widow’s lot was a difficult one in this world. At least he’d made restitution to her with the money he’d given the girls for her. She would be able to take care of herself and find her way. So why did he feel unsettled as he climbed into his buggy and took up the reins?

He hardly knew the woman. Surely he didn’t already care for her.

“Pa?” Gracie hurried the pony along, keeping pace with him. “Do you like Mrs. Clementine?”

“Not at all. Not in the least.” That was going to be his policy from here on out. He refused to like the woman. Besides, surely she would be gone from this town before long. This was simply a stopping place to wherever she would wind up. “Maybe you girls could help her place another advertisement.”

“But we don’t want her to go.” Hope’s voice rose a few notes in distress.

“Yeah, we like her, Pa.”

“The most of anyone.”

This was where things could get tricky. His heartbeat still wasn’t right, thumping along unevenly. Her gentle beauty was the kind that could take a man’s breath away.

“No more talk of Mrs. Clementine.” He knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but it was a start. “I want you girls to think about how badly you behaved in town and what you are going to do to make up for it.”

He reined Ed down a driveway, turning his thoughts toward the elderly woman awaiting his care.

Dr. Caleb Blake’s house was not quite what Clementine expected. Tucked at the edge of town where the countryside took over. Windswept meadows rustled in the early evening breezes, and larks sang, flitting about merrily.

Clementine sat a little straighter on the delivery wagon’s seat, taking in the sight. The two-story clapboard house had a wraparound porch and railing, smiling windows and the light yellow paint gave it a homey look.

Maybe it was the porch swing where someone could sit and relax on a summer’s evening, or the window boxes full of blooming flowers, but it was a house straight out of her dreams.

“Here we are, Mrs. Parks.” The feed store’s delivery boy stopped the wagon, hopped down and held out a hand. “Got you here right on time, too. Don’t worry about paying me. The doc gave me a good tip to bring you on by. Careful of your skirt now.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” She took his hand, gathered her skirt hem so it wouldn’t catch on the worn edge of the seat and jumped down. “You have a good evening.”

“You too, Mrs. Parks.” He tipped his battered straw hat, climbed back up and chirruped to the horses. The big draft animals lumbered off, the wagon kicking up a cloud of chalk-dry dust in its wake.

“You must be Clementine.” A woman about her own age pushed open the screen door. “I’m Hattie. I’m surprised the girls haven’t spotted you yet. They are out in the barn taking care of their pony. Come in, goodness, you must be parched after that hot drive. I hear you were brought to town under false pretenses.”

“Does everyone know how I was duped?” Clementine winced, climbed the wide steps onto the porch. “I should have known. The letters sounded too good to be true.”

“Men always are.” Hattie winked, holding the screen door wide. She seemed friendly and likable in a warm, down-to-earth way. “I’m sure Jeb made Caleb sound like the best man around. There’s no doubt he loves his sons. Here, let me take your bonnet.”

Clementine crossed the threshold, untying her blue hat. She cast a quick glance around and spotted a parlor with comfortable, overstuffed furniture and a stone hearth. Windows looked out over the mountains. A person could be snug and happy reading or knitting in that room, once winter came. She tried not to let her heart feel a thing, not one wish for what might have been.

“It smells delicious in here.” Clementine handed over her hat, watching as Hattie hung it up on one of the wall pegs.

“Thank you. I have chicken and dumplings almost ready to come out of the oven. I should have known something was up when the girls requested it yesterday. They had that certain look to them that spells trouble.” Cheerfully, Hattie gestured, heading down the hall into a large, open feeling kitchen.

More windows looked out at the meadows and mountains. A round oak table sat in a sunny corner, where a young man studied her curiously. A young man who resembled Caleb a little bit.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Hattie continued on as if the man wasn’t there, heading over to stir a pot sitting on the stove. “Those girls are wonderful, but they deserve a mother. I try my best, but—uh—”

“They’re a handful?” Clementine finished with a laugh.

“Yes, they certainly are, but that’s not what I was going to say. I guess I’m still searching for the right word. Maybe vulnerable comes close.” Hattie gave the pot one more stir before replacing the lid. “Clementine, meet Jeremiah. Caleb’s younger brother.”

“Of course. The girls mentioned their Uncle Jeremiah in their letters.” Clementine smiled at the man who had to be nineteen or twenty. He had a friendly, clean-cut look about him. One of those big, tough brawny men with a soft heart. She liked him instantly. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“All lies.” Jeremiah raked his fingers through his dark hair. His smile was like Caleb’s, dimpled and sincere. “I hear there was a little excitement today with the pony.”

“It’s no small wonder why,” Hattie spoke up from the stove, where she was sliding biscuits from a cooling rake into a cloth-lined basket. “Pumpkin used to chase my friend Millie around her farm when we were little. I’d walk over to play and there would be Pumpkin, teeth bared trying to bite her.”

“Good thing the old girl has mellowed with age. I tell you, everyone has the capacity to change. Don’t hold Pumpkin’s past behavior against her.” Jeremiah winked at her. What a charmer. “I hear you came here to marry my brother.”

“Yes, but he’s not interested in marrying me. And now that I’ve met him, I’m glad for that.” She meant it as a joke, winking back to Jeremiah as she said it, but the sudden draft on her back and the silence descending on the kitchen told her Caleb had walked in and heard every word.

Had she hurt his feelings? She spun around slowly, trying to think of the best way to apologize. He took off his hat, looking serious. Grim. Like a man who hadn’t liked what he’d heard—not at all.

“Yeah, we sure felt sorry for you,” Jeremiah broke the silence. “Poor Mrs. Clementine coming all this way to marry Caleb. I knew that was never gonna happen. One look at my big brother and she’d change her mind like the wind.”

“Even faster,” Caleb agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Who can blame her?”

His gaze lingered on hers, and she knew then that he understood. That she’d only been making light of things to hide her feelings. It was harder than she thought to be here, to look at what she’d wanted so much—a family to belong to and a place to call home.

“Glad you could make it, Clementine.” Caleb smiled at her, letting her know he meant it before turning away. “It’s hard being in a new town. We wouldn’t want you to have to eat alone.”

“I think Mrs. O’Hurley was taking care of that, but thank you. I’d rather be here and get to talk to the girls. I hope you don’t think that’s inappropriate, considering.”

“No, I know you’ve formed an attachment. And frankly, that’s not a bad thing. They can use all the good role models they can get. Hattie has not been helpful in that respect.”

“It’s true. I’m a terrible influence.” Hattie joked as she rescued the pot of chicken and dumplings from the stove. “I’m incorrigible.”

“I’d fire you and hire someone else,” Caleb joked as he set down his medical bag. “But no one else will have the job.”

“There’s nothing like job security.” Hattie set the pot in the center of the table. “There, supper is served. I’m going to run home and check on my grandmother. I’ll be back to do the dishes.”

“Thanks, Hattie.” Caleb opened the back door for her, aware of Clementine Parks standing behind him. His heart still wasn’t beating normally.

The girls charged up the steps, stopping to hug Hattie on their way into the house. Shoes pounding, skirts snapping, and breathing hard, they clattered to a stop in the center of the kitchen.

“Mrs. Clementine!” they chorused together, flinging themselves around the surprised woman who hugged them right back.

He closed the door, trying not to watch, trying not to let her affect him. But it was impossible not to notice the kind way she treated his girls. The way her blue eyes brightened with love as she listened intently to the tale the girls told about the crazy bird that kept flying at them on the ride home—and wouldn’t stop. Her laughter rang like a bell, light and musical.