Mail Order Bride – Charlotte's Summer: Clean Sweet Western Cowboy Romance (Seasons Mail Order Brides Book 1) (2 page)

T
he shrill ring
of a bell echoed through the long, narrow hallways just as the sun peeked past the horizon. Charlotte and Beth jumped out of bed, dressed quickly and made a start on their daily chores.

They helped prepare breakfast for the younger children – oats and pickled fruit – and then laundered all the bed linen, soaking and rinsing and twisting the sheets until their fingers stung in the cold water.

Once the bread was set aside to rise and the floors were scrubbed to the point where the girls could see their own reflection, they were sent to the washrooms to freshen up so they could head into town to run errands.

Charlotte slipped her house-dress up over her head and emptied a little water from the pitcher into the hand basin. She squeezed out a washcloth to wipe over her face, neck and arms.

The city would soon be covered in a blanketing heat and the cool of the damp fabric was a welcome relief against her flesh. But even so, by the time she’d wriggled into her bloomers and blouse she was soaked again with perspiration. Summer felt like it would never end this year, and Charlotte sighed as she left the washroom, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

She stopped, mid-sigh, with a start, greeted as she was by a familiar yet unwelcome voice.

“What’s with the forlorn expression there, Miss Bates?” Mr. Graynger was slumped against the doorway on the opposite side of the corridor, his legs knotted together at the ankles. “You look like y’got the weight of the world on them pretty little shoulders,” He hissed.

The man reminded Charlotte of a snake, sitting around in the sun as it waited for something to strike at.

Three stained teeth appeared from behind a smug grin and his eyes began to wander slowly over her body in that way that had always repulsed her. His rancid smell told Charlotte that he’d not taken the time to wash himself before he came looking for her.

And he always came looking for her.

“If I’m not mistaken, someone has a birthday coming up in the not too distant future.”

Mr. Graynger pushed himself from the wall, taking two steps forward until he was right in her face and his breath almost knocked poor Charlotte straight off her feet.

“I’ve caught the way you look at me, Miss Bates. A fella’s no dummy, he sure knows that look when he sees it, and I have no intention of denying you everything you desire once you’re lawful. I’ve been counting down the days for as long as I can remember.”

Charlotte near fainted dead away at his words. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Graynger. I never looked at you in any particular, I mean, I, uh…” She stepped back quickly, shuffling her feet as the man kept advancing, until her behind was pressed up hard against the wall and she had nowhere else to go.

“Quit your stammering!” he shouted. He narrowed his eyes and towered his tall frame over her so that her face was hidden in his shadow. “The day you turn eighteen you’ll become my wife, ain’t nothin’ more to it! I ain’t even bothered asking you proper or nothin’ ’cause your Daddy’s got no say in the matter … being that he’s
dead
and all. It ain’t like you got no other prospects.”

Charlotte hated the way Mr. Graynger spoke so ill of her parents, but she refused to let him see how much it upset her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Um, well … I appreciate the offer, but … uh, no thank you, Sir.”

Mr. Graynger’s expression turned menacing and his fists clenched at his side. “It’s not as if you got an option, Miss Bates. You’ll become my bride as soon as I can arrange the paperwork. Once it’s all said and done you’ll take up residence over at the main house, and we can be together like a man and his wife ought to be.”

He lingered in the moment and then nodded his head so his limp hair dangled around his ears. “Mrs. Charlotte Graynger … now I reckon that’s got quite a nice little ring to it.”

Charlotte’s entire body quivered with fear and disgust. She could see the look of determination shining clear in his otherwise blank eyes, and her heart sank at the thought of spending the rest of her life with this horrid man. “Sir, I think you’re mistaken. Never once did I…”

“
That
’
s enough!
” He grabbed her arm in a way that no man should ever be touching a woman. “Best think long and hard about your words, Miss Bates. The next few weeks might be less challenging for you if you keep that sweet little mouth o’ yours shut and do as I say. I’m a wealthy man, so financially you’ll be well taken care of. All you’ll have to worry yourself with is tying up that beautiful hair just the way I like and waiting for my return in the evenings.”

Mr. Graynger’s brows jumped a few times with excitement. “Now that’s the part I’m hankering for most of all.”

Charlotte winced. She knew what he meant.

Mistress Belle had been so kind as to sit Charlotte and Elizabeth down one day and prepare them for what to expect from a man on their wedding night. Charlotte had been silly enough to let herself imagine it a few times too, and although the pain of it frightened her some, it was nothing she wasn’t willing to try with a man she loved.

Mr. Graynger was another matter altogether though.

He was putrid and rotten to the core, like a discarded apple left lying out on the street, and Charlotte wanted no part of him.

Of course, Mr. Graynger had sensed this all along, but he was a stubborn man and used to getting his own way. He bent down closer to Charlotte and brushed the tips of his sticky fingers under her chin. “A July wedding, how very delightful! You’re a lucky young woman.”

At that exact moment footsteps were heard approaching and Mr. Graynger stepped back some. Beth rounded the corner and her shoulders visibly stiffened. She watched the man with her usual wary eye, but before another word was spoken, Mr. Graynger simply turned his back on the two girls, loped down the hallway as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and then disappeared into his office.

Charlotte’s head drooped and fell into her hands, and Beth only just managed to catch her wrist before she slid down the wall to hit the floor with a thud. “Oh Charlotte, whatever was all that about? I overheard every single word, but I really don’t know what to make of it? You … and Mr. Graynger?”

“No, please don’t speak of us like that.”

“He seems mighty convinced you have feelings for him.” Elizabeth blushed just saying the words out loud. “Is it true, Charlotte? Do you wish to marry Mr. Graynger?”

Charlotte studied her friend for a hint that she might be playing some kind of cruel joke, but when Beth didn’t make another sound, Charlotte’s temper rose in a way that was uncharacteristic to her nature. “That man makes my skin itch all over, and I’ll thank you to refrain from ever insinuating otherwise. I
will not
marry that ghastly man. I simply won’t!”

“Oh, Charlotte … I’m so terribly sorry. I don’t know what got into me. What can we do to get you out of this mess?”

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears and a heaviness settled in her bones, one she knew wouldn’t disappear any time soon. It was hopeless. Short of some act of divine intervention, by the end of the month she would be walking down the aisle toward Mr. Graynger, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Absolutely nothing at all.

Beth suddenly stood at attention like she knew exactly what Charlotte was thinking. She wanted to stop that train of thought before it pulled out too far from the station. “This isn’t over yet, my dear friend. Leave it to me. I’ll come up with something.”

Both girls glanced down the hallway, their attention drawn to the sound of keys jingling on a metal ring. Beth knew the conversation was about to be cut short so she spoke quickly. “There’s no way on this earth that you’ll end up married to a stinking, old, good-for-nothin’ like Mr. Graynger, not if I’ve got anything to do with it!”

Mistress Belle turned the corner then, and caught the two girls, seemingly in the middle of a natter session instead of making a start on their errands. On any other day she would have reprimanded them for their tardiness, but Mr. Graynger’s early return had rattled her just as much as it had everyone else. She wasn’t the sort of woman who liked to be made a fool of, and she’d been caught off-guard with the sudden arrival of the babies. She wasn’t as prepared as she’d have liked to have been and it didn’t sit well with her.

She took both girls by the elbows and spun them around until they were facing the front doors. “In my estimation, you two have approximately one hour left to walk the six blocks into town, collect our supplies from the mercantile and make it back in time to help with the dumplings. Class’ll be out at twelve sharp and I’ll have hungry mouths to feed. Not to mention bottles to make and diapers to change. Hurry along now girls before…”

She paused and looked down the corridor with a scowl on her normally sweet face. “Well, you know what I mean, just hurry along before trouble finds each and every one of us.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Charlotte and Beth said in unison. And they all knew just what she meant.

“
M
abel
! For the very last time!
There ain’t nothing of interest to you here, and even if there were, it would be far more prudent of you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

Mabel Clay took exception to the way Louise reprimanded her, especially in front of the procession of townsfolk – either waiting to collect up their mail or order their fancy English muffins and coffee.

Instead of a retort, Mabel bit her tongue and scurried back to her place in line, her head full of unsaid responses the entire time. If Louise wasn’t married to Sheriff Calhoun – Henry to his nearest and dearest – then Mabel might have just given her a right piece of her mind. With all eyes now angled in her direction, however, she simply bit down once again and swallowed back the bitter taste that had built up in her throat.

The fire of ’84 had claimed the town’s original post office. The shingles were soon set to burning up like kindling in the midday sun, and the flames licked high into what had been a clear blue Montana sky.

At first, no one quite knew how to get on with things, each turning to the other and scratching their heads. But Louise soon saw fit to righting things again by offering a small section of her counter at the town’s only diner,
The Coffee Grande
, as a temporary solution to the problem. And Conrad’s townsfolk had gone about their business like there wasn’t a mountain of ash still smoldering right there across the street.

Temporary or not, Mabel didn’t like it one little bit. She was the sort of woman who could sniff out gossip from a mile away, and it served her little to have so many prying eyes watching her every move. After all, she couldn’t exactly enquire about the Preacher’s ever-rising liquor consumption, or the late night house calls of certain young men over at the saloon – well, not without coming across as a right nosy gossipmonger, at least.

But Mabel was no fool.

She was more certain now – as she watched Louise lower her eyes again – than anything else she’d ever been certain of before. Something exciting was brewing. Something the likes of which Conrad had never before seen.

The way she figured, it had
everything
to do with the handsome, young recluse standing right up there at the counter and absolutely
nothing
to do with her at all. And if there was scandal to be had, then that’s exactly the way Mabel enjoyed it. What she didn’t enjoy … was that she only had a half hour lunch break each day. It was barely enough time to gather the mail, scoff down a scone or two and find a willing ear in which to tattle.

It galled her that she had to manage it all before she had to be back behind the reception desk at Doc Lawson’s rooms.

Meanwhile, Louise turned her attention back to Thomas, fed up to the back teeth with the blithering busybody, and asked her question as innocently as she could, without making it obvious that Earl Mason had already been into town that morning checking on the very same thing. “Were you expecting something important, Thomas? A letter perhaps?”

She’d known Thomas long enough to realize that he knew when she was teasing him. In fact, he respected her opinion so much that he’d run the letter by her first, right before he’d sealed the envelope and handed it over. Louise knew that a female perspective wasn’t something Thomas had in abundance. In fact, she couldn’t even recall him ever mentioning a woman. Well, excluding Rosy of course, but she figured that didn’t exactly count.

Before Thomas’s parents had passed away, the Ackermans and the Calhouns had been firm friends for many years. Louise and her husband Henry had taken the couple’s death hard, just as everyone else in the town had, but Thomas was their son Gabriel’s best friend from childhood. In fact, they had been playmates from before the time they could even walk, so it was a little tougher on the Calhouns than others in town.

“Say hello to Gabe for me next time he comes home for supper,” said Thomas, tucking his shirt tighter into his britches. “He’s a hard man to catch these days. I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

He glanced back at Mabel as quick as he could, clearly making sure her neck wasn’t stretched as high as it was a moment ago and then quietened his voice before adding, “And thank you for your very thoughtful offer. I might just take you up on it.”

“My pleasure, Thomas,” said Louise, bringing an extra dose of kindness to her voice.

She watched him offer the smallest of grins in return and then tip his hat, before his broad shoulders disappeared through the door and out into the sunshine. A warm sense of pride filled her chest. If only his mother could bear witness to the fine young man he’d grown into. She would be beside herself with happiness.

T
he footpath was crowded
, thick with the usual rush that came with city living. Thankfully, Charlotte and Beth had arrived at the post office right before the line got too long and they’d have had to wait.

Old Bert Hamilton glanced up from the pile of packages he had spread out on the counter before him. He looked tired, exhausted even. Every line on his face was there for a reason. But he was never short of a smile when the girls called by to collect the daily mail. They were like a breath of fresh air as far as Bert was concerned. ‘
Spunk,
’ his Mama had called it. That indescribable quality generally reserved for the young and free of spirit.

“Well, howdy there, ladies,” said Bert. He pushed his hand back through his thinning hair and tried to disguise just how bad his legs were paining. “I’m swamped as all git out sortin’ through this mess. I’m movin’ as fast as I possibly can, but you’ll have to bear with me just a while longer.”

“You’re overworked, Bert,” Charlotte smiled politely. “Maybe you should think of hiring someone to give you a hand? Goodness knows you could use it.”

Bert laughed a couple of times, shaking his head. “It’s like you’re a mind reader, Miss Charlotte. Why, just this very morning I received a letter from my niece, Alice Hamilton. She’s been working as a teacher’s assistant down there in Texas, but she reckons she’s bored of it and wants the adventure of city living. She’s on her way to Seattle as we speak so I believe, coming to help her old Uncle Bert out for a while.”

“Well, that’s wonderful news. I’m sure she’ll fit right in. Beth and I look forward to making her acquaintance, don’t we Beth?”

Charlotte’s eyes darted toward her friend when she didn’t get a reply. Beth was fiddling with the waistband of her skirt, her mind altogether somewhere else, and Charlotte doubted she’d even heard Bert speak in the first place. Her expression was troubled, and it didn’t take Charlotte long to figure out exactly where her thoughts were at. But she wasn’t about to broach the subject in public.

Charlotte pretended not to notice and glanced back toward the counter. The basket allotted to Mr. Fredrick was growing more sizable by the minute and Bert blew out a huge puff of air that made his cheeks billow. “It seems the milliner’s missus has gone and set herself up a little business,” he grumbled. “It’s runnin’ me into the ground. Never before have I seen so much correspondence from one measly advertisement.”

Beth’s hands finally stilled, her curiosity getting the better of her. “May I be so bold as to ask what sort of business?”

“Mail order brides, if I’m not mistaken,” Bert informed her, but he soon set to chuckling when he looked across from one girl to the other and noticed just how wide their eyes had suddenly grown. “Don’t s’pose you gals are interested?”

Beth leaned across the counter and snatched the basket of mail right out from under Bert’s nose, and with that he stopped laughing just as quickly as he’d started. “Excuse
me
, Sir, but are you insinuating neither of us are attractive enough to find suitors for ourselves?”

“Why, no Miss … uh, I’d never be so impolite, quite the contrary.” Bert now had a thin sheen of sweat break out across his top lip as he spluttered to cover his gaffe. He was rethinking his opinion of the girls with every dagger Beth shot his way. “A man would be a dang fool not to ask you for your hand in marriage. I was simply considering the fact that neither of you would ever be so desperate. What must one be thinking and all, marrying a complete stranger? I’d say it’s a crazy act for anyone, let alone the like of you fine ladies.”

Charlotte and Beth froze.
Desperate?
Why of course. Why hadn’t either of them thought of it sooner? That’s exactly what Charlotte needed to get out of the proposed marriage to Mr. Graynger. A different husband would surely do the trick. It seemed fate had stepped in right when they’d needed it to, and in that instant both girls knew what had to be done.

“Desperate, you say?” said Charlotte, more to herself than to anyone else.

“Oh no, I uh … wasn’t implying you were…”

“Your insults are the least of our worries right now, Bert.” Beth watched as his face lit up as bright as a camp fire. “Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. Come now Charlotte, we have places to go and people to see.”

Beth purposefully stuck her nose in the air as she spun on her heels and walked right back out the door they’d just come through. Mrs. Fredrick’s mail was still tucked up tightly under her arm. Charlotte grabbed the pile to the left of the counter marked
ORPHANAGE
and followed closely behind her, informing Bert that apparently they would be making a stop by the Fredrick’s place on the way back.

As it was, Bert who was glad for their leaving his post office without causing too much of a scene, simply waved them off and then returned to his business.