Mail Order Mishap: Christian Romance (Kansas Brides Book 1) (10 page)

Amber helped her to the porch, and while Edna did walk a bit more that day, she still kept losing her balance.

“I’m calling a doctor if you aren’t well by tomorrow,” Amber said.

Garrett sent longing looks Amber’s way throughout Sunday's church service. Garrett chose a seat affording the perfect profile view of her. She looked so beautiful in her taupe dress and straw bonnet. He wondered where Edna was and why Amber was sitting alone. Once, during the sermon, he saw her head turn to look at him. When she saw him staring back, she quickly turned back to the minister.

Instead of paying attention to the sermon that was about praying to idols, he thought about Amber’s kisses and the gorgeous response she’d given him, just before he ended the ruse. For a few seconds he was in Heaven. Maybe he should have kept going and if she wound up carrying his child, she’d have no choice but to marry him. Then again, on second thought, he really didn’t want her that way. He wanted her to desire him as much as he desired her.

Her kisses told him that she had some feelings for him, now that he found out she knew it was him the whole time. She'd responded to
him
, and not Charles. He felt that meant something, at least, and he’d not give up on her. He thought about sending her flowers, but he thought it a mite corny, and she’d probably throw them away, anyhow. Should he write her a love letter? No, that wasn’t his style. He had no idea how to try and win her back.

After the service, he followed her home at a safe distance to make sure she got there all right.

Chapter 12

Garrett ate breakfast at the local eating-house and then walked to the livery to see what Cole had on his mind. He was curious. He saw Edna Smith sitting in a rocker on her porch, and crossed the street to be close enough to speak to her. As he approached her house she beckoned him to come to the porch railing. He walked up to the rail and leaned against it.

“I’m stalling Amber’s trip home, pretending to be ill,” she whispered. “If you’re going to make a move, you’d better hurry, as I can’t fake it for too much longer. She’s threatening to call a doctor.

"She’s planning to take the train home on Tuesday. I can stall her until Wednesday, but the rest is up to you.”

“I’m not yet sure what to do, but I’ll think of something. Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I’ll make it worth your while,” he said.

“That’s not necessary,” Edna said. “I’m helping you because I think you and Amber belong together, and if it’ll keep her in Hunter’s Grove, I’m all for it. I’ve really become quite fond of her.”

Garrett winked and waved. He continued on to the livery, where he found Cole sitting at his desk in the small office.

“Have a seat, Garrett,” he said.

Garret took a seat beside his desk and rested his right ankle on his left knee. “What’s up?”

“Did you take the apartment?” he asked.

“Yes. It was a bit more than I wanted to pay, but it was perfect.”

“Why are you moving out of Charles’s house? You always said how you had it made there.”

“Ah, It’s a long story,” Garrett said. He rubbed his temples. He was dying to tell someone, and who better than his best friend.

“It’s a slow day…tell me.” Cole leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk.

“I really can’t—it’s too personal.”

“If it has to do with your brother’s relationship with Clinton Butler, I already know about it. Most everyone does.”

“Mostly, yes.”

“It happens in the best of families, Garrett,” Cole said. “At least Charles is alive, and he’s happy.”

Garrett couldn’t remember Cole being so serious in a long time, maybe since his wife died, he supposed. His father’s illness must be causing him stress as well. Usually, the two of them did little else than laugh and joke with each other.

“Just between us?” Garret asked. He wanted so badly to confide in Cole because he might have advice for him, but he’d hesitated because he wasn’t sure if Cole knew about Charles and Clint. Since he already knew, there was no harm in telling him the whole story.

“You shouldn’t even have to ask that,” Cole said. “We’ve been friends far too long to question each other’s integrity.”

Garrett nodded and then told him the whole story. He left nothing out, except Amber’s eager response to his lovemaking‒that was too personal, even for Cole.

Cole listened quietly to the whole story before shaking his head. “You were definitely wrong, but you did the right thing in the end, by confessing everything to Amber. Any idea what you’ll do to gain back her trust?”

Garrett gave a half-laugh, “I’d hoped you’d have some idea as to how I could do that?”

“I do, actually.”

“What? Tell me!”

“Beg, crawl, and plead. You can’t let her go back to Virginia,” Cole said.

“Even if I were successful, what have I to offer her? She’s used to servants and a southern mansion. I’ve nothing to offer her. I don’t even have a job.”

Cole sat up straight and stood. “My father’s feeling a bit better today and he wants to see to you.”

“Me?”

Cole nodded.

“What about?”

“I’d rather let him tell you. It’s another long story.” Cole opened the office door and motioned for him to follow. He called to one of his workers to handle things in his absence, even though things looked pretty relaxed.

As they walked up the stairs to Cole’s living quarters above the livery, Cole said, “Things are slow today, but Saturday night is George and Irene Sutter’s fiftieth anniversary, and I hear that there'll be people arriving by stage and train and we'll be swamped.”

Garrett was led to a room off the sitting room, where he found Howard Johnson lying there, so white and still, that for a moment, he thought perhaps Howard had passed. Cole shook the old man’s shoulder gently, and the man opened his bright blue eyes.

Howard must be about the same age as his own parents would be: late fifties or early sixties. His hair was fully white, and he looked so much older, probably due to his illness. Cole had never said what his illness was, but he looked weak. Even so, he smiled at Garrett, and waved to a chair at his bedside. Cole took a seat on his other side.

Cole and his father were solemn, and Charles had often teased Garrett about not being his father’s son. Was Howard going to tell him he was Garrett’s real father? The thought had crossed his mind many times through the years. Howard always treated him like a son. People had been remarking for years about how much he and Cole looked alike. Why else would the two of them be so serious? Garrett could tell Howard was on his deathbed. People confessed things when they knew they were dying. He prepared himself for hearing something that would change his life.

Garrett quietly studied Ben’s face. Was Cole his brother? Even though his hair was lighter, they had similar faces, with the same high cheekbones, and prominent eyebrows

Garrett braced himself.

Howard's voice was strong for one so weak. “I want you to have a share in the livery. You and Cole will be equal partners, without you investing a cent. Consider it my gift, something I feel I need to do.”

At Garrett’s gasp, Howard continued.

“Garrett, I’ve known your family for many years, and I’ve encouraged the friendship between you and Cole because I was fond of your parents—well, at least your mother.” Garrett’s face must have shown a knowing expression, because Howard quickly said, “No, I wasn’t in love with your mother, nor she with me. I am not your real father, but I know who was.” He held up his hand to silence Garrett.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was my brother, Sam. He and your mother were in love for a year or so before Elmer Turner came to town. Elmer was a rough and tough cowboy, always getting into bar fights, and what not. Your mother wanted nothing to do with him when he tried to court her. Then, one day before Sam was to marry your mother, he was found dead behind the hardware store with a bullet through the back of his head. There were no witnesses, and no suspects. The constable claimed a stray bullet had shot Sam during someone else’s gunfight, or that it was from cowboys celebrating in the street as they sometimes do after too much drink. The town had no idea who could've possibly killed Sam, as he was one of the best-loved men in town‒best loved by everyone except for Elmer Turner, that is, but we couldn’t prove he was the one who'd shot him.

“Then, shortly after that, your mother agreed to marry Elmer, a man she hadn’t even liked before. No one could figure out why she married him until you were born, just 6 days short of eight months later. There was gossip, as there always is when a baby is born before the first anniversary. I don’t think anyone knew how close your mother and Sam were, but I did, because I made it possible for them to be alone. I let them use my house to meet, and I knew they’d been intimate several times. They were going to marry as soon as Sam had found a job. He’d finally landed a job at the lumber mill, but he was killed just a week later.

“Luckily, you were a small baby at birth, so the gossip passed, and Elmer was accepted as your father. He always suspected, and was never really sure, but I knew. Since I didn’t want a bullet in the back of my head, I kept quiet all these years.

“I loved my brother, and I’ve known all your life you were my nephew, but your mother led Elmer to believe you were his. Some may call it deception, but I call it self-preservation. I knew about the beatings he'd given her‒everyone did‒but there was nothing I or anyone else could've done to help her. I've prayed for you both through the years.

“Sam would've loved you, as Cole and I do. Even my dear wife, Elma, may God rest her soul, was fond of you, though she never knew the truth, either. You must have known how we felt about you, but even Cole didn’t know the truth until about a month ago, when I told him. He’s been hounding me all this time to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.

“Well, Garrett, you may speak now. I’m done. I don’t think I’ll be around too much longer, but you have every right to know the truth and accept my gift, and I’ve instructed Cole to tell you all about your father. We even have a daguerreotype of him. Cole will show it to you. I want you to have it.”

Garrett was speechless. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t even know you had a brother, or that he was killed.”

“Like my father said,” Cole explained, “he kept quiet about the whole affair.”

“I can see why,” Garrett said.

“Did you also know your father’s middle name was Garrison?” Howard said. “Samuel Garrison Johnson was his full name, but that’s something only your mother, Sam, and I knew. Had Elmer ever found that out, your mother would have been beaten even worse than usual. That’s what led me to first suspect you were Sam’s. Then I did the math, and as you grew, I noticed how you looked more and more like Sam every day. “My mother’s name was Lucy Garrison, and that’s how Sam got his middle name.”

“Elmer didn’t treat me the same as he did Charles,” Garrett said, “and he often threw it up in my mother’s face during a heated argument that I was a bas—well, you know.

“Yet on my mother’s death bed she told me I was Elmer’s, and that I shouldn’t believe him. Why would she lie to me like that?” Garrett asked.

“Maybe because she had no idea Elmer would leave town after she died. She was trying to protect you from his rage and from the town gossip,” Howard said. “I think Elmer never knew for sure if you were his or not. If he had known, for sure you would have been treated far worse.”

“I suppose you’re right. He did treat me fairly sometimes, but never the same as Charles,” Garrett admitted.

Howard’s eyes had begun to droop, and he patted Garrett’s hand. “I’ve done enough talking for today. I need to rest. Come and see me tomorrow if you have more questions.”

Garrett stood and kissed the old man’s cheek. “Thank you, sir.” He turned and left the room with Cole trailing behind him.

“Cole,” Garrett said, “I can’t accept half of your business. You're his son, and I’m just his probable nephew; it doesn’t feel right.”

“I insist. I need you, Garrett. You can fix buggies and wagons better than anyone one I know. It’s my father’s dying wish that he could do something for his murdered brother’s son. You can’t refuse it, or it'll offend him. It’s this gift that’s giving him the peace that he’s sought for years. Please accept it, because if I had to pick anyone to be my partner, it would be you, anyway.”

“What will people say?” Garrett asked. “I don’t want everyone knowing my mother—”

“No one needs to know. As far as anyone will know, you’ve bought into the business.”

“I do have a nest egg that I could throw in to buy equipment or something for the livery, or something.”

“It isn’t needed. My father will leave us enough money to do all that. I doubt he has more than a week or so left. I’m going to spend as much time with him as I can until then, and that’s where you come in. I’ll walk you through the things you don’t know about running this place, and then I’m going to spend every moment I can with him. I need you.” He laughed and slapped him on the back. “Cousin.”

He led Garrett into his office. “I have something to give you,” he said.

Cole handed him a small, metal plate. When Garrett turned it over, he gasped. “That’s me!” he cried. “Well, me with old fashioned clothes and messy hair.”

“Do you think my father would give you half the business if he wasn’t sure?”

Garrett held the image of his father to his heart. “It’s true!” He looked at the print again. It was a bit yellowed, and there was a large white spot where the plate had begun to fade, just below his chin, but his face was clear as a bell’s ring. His hair was dark like his, and his hair was a mess, sticking up all over, just like his was upon waking in the morning. He wore a serious look and had the same prominent brows and high cheekbones.