Mail Order Mishap: Christian Romance (Kansas Brides Book 1) (3 page)

“Cowboys are sleeping on the floor, and I have to charge them less when the few beds we have are taken. The cattle drives are bringing in more and more all the time. My hotel's the last one on the Chisholm Trail before Wichita‒we need a bigger and better place.”

“All right, so you posted an ad in that paper, but how did you know a woman with a large dowry would respond?” Garrett asked.

“I didn’t, but I received at least twenty replies and she was the only one who came right out and told me she had a dowry in her very first letter. It’s almost like she wants to use it to buy a husband. To be honest, I think she's probably unsightly, making her more desperate.”

“But to marry a woman when you’re—”

“I have it all planned. It’s almost a done deal, Garrett.”

“Where might you be going all dressed up?” Garrett asked.

Charles stood, brushing lint from his red waistcoat. He also wore a tan jacket, black string tie, and shiny, black boots.

“To the train station to meet my bride,” Charles answered.

Garrett stood with hands on hips, and couldn’t help but frown at his brother. “She’s here already? What will you do with her? Tell me you aren’t bringing her here.”

“She’ll be staying with the Widow Smith. I’ll court her from there and then marry her.”

“What did Clint have to say about all this?”

“He’ll understand,” Charles said.

“You mean he doesn’t even know?”

“Not exactly. He’s still visiting his family in Topeka.”

“I don’t believe this!” Garrett walked to the door. “Leave me out of this whole deal.”

“I can’t,” Charles said giving his boots another brisk shine with his handkerchief. “You’ll have to find another place to live.”

Garrett spun around. “What for? I thought she was staying with Widow Smith?”

“And then,” Charles stretched out the words, “when we marry she’ll be moving in here.”

Garrett shook his head. “Fine. I’ll just bunk with the other homeless cowboys at the ranch where I spend ten hours a day working.”

“That would be considerate of you.”

Garrett left and let the door slam behind him.

Amber stepped off the train with trepidation. It had taken immeasurable courage to go through with the strange arrangement, but she was determined to marry and have a family, and Charles seemed perfect. If she’d stayed in Virginia, she’d have no doubt been left a spinster, because she wasn’t beautiful. And though her dowry was sizable, it wasn't big enough to attract a husband in Virginia with the economy failing. Frank had been her childhood sweetheart, and a part of her had died with him. If she had to buy a husband, so be it. Knowing she’d never love another man as she had Frank, she decided she'd just have to make the best of the situation. How bad could Mr. Turner be?

She straightened her spine, stepped forward, and looked around the station. When a tall, handsome man approached her, smiling, she knew she’d made the right decision in going to Hunter’s Grove, Kansas.

The man was the type most women dreamed of—dark, wavy hair, brown eyes framed with long, curling lashes, his face was perfectly formed. Amber thought him beautiful. She held her hand out to meet his, and they both spoke at once.

“Mr. Turner?”

“Amber?” He laughed.

Oh, she thought she must have died and gone to Heaven. Even his voice was angelic.

“Yes.” She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She wondered if he was disappointed in her appearance. While she was dressed handsomely, she knew she wasn’t pretty enough for him, although her Frank had told her that she was beautiful, many times. She hated her mousey brown hair, her cat-like eyes, and her scarecrow-like figure. Yet Charles’s smile seemed sincere. He seemed pleased by her appearance, in fact.

“Is that your trunk?” he asked nodding at the uniformed man from the train who’d set it down with a thud near them.

“Yes,” she said.

“My!” he said. He made an effort to pick the trunk up, but dropped it with a clunk. “What do you have in here?” he laughed.

“Why, my clothing and personal items,” she said.

Charles half-carried, half-dragged the trunk to the walkway. He glanced down the street and waved to someone in the distance that he seemed to recognize.

“Garrett! Garrett! Can you give us a hand, please?” he yelled.

Amber moved closer to Charles, for the man he’d hailed looked none too friendly. He wore a frown and seemed terribly hostile. She half expected him to refuse to help Charles, but instead he simply rolled his eyes and picked up the trunk, carrying it on his shoulder as if it were nothing. He was more muscular than Charles, but not half as handsome.

“Thank you. Amber Wakefield, may I present my brother, Garrett? Garrett, this is Amber Wakefield.”

Garrett turned, glanced at her briefly, and nodded. “Where to? Smith’s?”

“Yes,” Charles said, taking Amber’s arm.

Charles and Amber followed behind Garrett along the wide wooden walkway. The sun was shining and the air felt warm. If she hadn’t traveled so many miles west, she’d have thought she was still in Virginia. The main difference was that the places of business on either side of the street looked rustic compared to the structures in Richmond. Most of the buildings in her city were brick, while these were all wooden structures, and most needed paint.

As they walked, Amber thought about her tentative marriage to Charles. He might be marrying her for her dowry, but she knew she could win his love by being the best possible wife to him. Arranged marriages often worked out quite well. Although he could never replace her dear Frank, she could grow fond enough of him to make a happy home.

Charles patted her hand that was resting on his arm. “That’s my hotel, across the street, on the right.”

Amber stopped and stared at the shabby building with a crooked, wooden sign. That can’t be the hotel! She’d pictured something very different.

“It’s… it’s,” she fumbled mentally for the right words.

“I know,” Charles said. “It needs a facelift. We’ll do it as soon as we marry. It'll be the classiest hotel in the west when I’m done with it.”

Amber knew it was her money that was earmarked to rebuild the shabby hotel, and she cringed inwardly. Would she have come if she’d known his hotel was nothing but a run-down shack? She probably wouldn’t have, but she was there, now, and she’d have to make the best of it.

They stopped in front of the only house on Hunter's Grove's main thoroughfare, a cute, white cottage with a white picket fence. It looked completely out of place, sandwiched between an apothecary and a food market. Amber could only assume the house had once belonged to one of the business's owners, or the house had been built there first, and the businesses had grown around it. Across the street was a barbershop, and just two stores away, the hotel. On Mrs. Smith’s side of the street, the livery stood beside the apothecary. Across the street and next to the hotel, she spotted a brightly colored saloon, and another saloon beside the barbershop. She felt like she’d be living in the center of the town’s action.

Amber was relieved to see the house seemed well kept and actually charming. As they climbed the three steps up to the porch, an elderly woman met them and held the door open wide.

““Come right in,” she said, welcoming them warmly. “Garrett, you may set the trunk in the room on the right, the blue one.

“Hello, dear,” she said, smiling at Amber. “And how are you, Charles?”

“Doin’ good Mrs. Smith. This is Amber Wakefield.”

Edna Smith took Amber’s hand in hers. “You are welcome to stay as long as you please.”

Amber liked Mrs. Smith immediately. She was a tiny, white-haired woman, with a wrinkled but smiling face. She strongly reminded Amber of her own grandmother who'd died just before the war.

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

Mrs. Smith led Amber to a lovely room, decorated in light blue with lilac trim. It was a spacious room, with a large window, a blue and ecru armchair, and a tall armoire. The wood of the bed matched the wood of the armoire, and it was covered with a frilly white spread. While not as opulent as her room in Richmond, it was nevertheless lovely. “This is a delightful room. Thank you.” Amber took her flowered, straw hat off and set it on the bed. “I'm sure I'll feel right at home here, in no time.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Smith said before turning to Charles, “And you may visit any time from eleven in the morning until eight at night.”

Charles nodded.

Amber looked around and noticed that Charles’s brother had left in a hurry, without so much as a goodbye. She hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with the unhappy man too much.

Amber enjoyed a delightful dinner with Mrs. Smith before Charles came to call. When he arrived she led him to the front porch where they sat in matching rocking chairs. A chat with him would be the ideal way to get to know him better‒he really did seem every bit the gentleman.

“Have you settled in nicely?” Charles asked.

“I have. Mrs. Smith is a delightful woman.” Amber noted his wavy hair and yearned to flick a wayward curl away from his forehead.

“That she is. She plays the piano at the church down the street, when the regular man is absent. She’ll be pulling you along with her, come Sunday,” Charles said.

Amber noticed that when he smiled, it seemed to include his whole face. His eyes sparkled like the dew on the grass in the early morning and gave the impression of a sincere man. She looked at his hands and observed they were soft—the hands of a man unused to manual labor. His attire was immaculate. His shirt was perfectly pressed, as were his pants, with seams straight as a pin down the front. He made a very impressive image. She could tell he was a man who was orderly and meticulous.

He played with his hands, rubbing them together, making steeples out of them, and she wondered if he were as nervous as she.

“How many people do you employ at your hotel?” she asked.

“Just three, right now: Irma is the hotel cook; Tiny is the cleaner; and Dutch works the counter.”

“My! Just three,” she repeated, unable to believe it was such a small business. “Tiny and Dutch? Are those their real names?”

“That’s all I know them by. I think Dutch has a long German name. Around Hunter’s Grove, many folks have nicknames‒we aren’t formal out here. Then there’s Clint my assistant manager.”

“Assistant manager?” Amber couldn’t believe a hotel that shabby would need one.

“I see,” she said. “Do you or your brother have nicknames?”

He laughed heartily. “I don’t, and I can’t tell you what I call Garrett when I’m angry at him.”

“Garrett seems very…I don’t know, very…dissatisfied.” She hoped that word was a polite way of saying rude and unfriendly.

“He takes after my mother. He's also a bit withdrawn. I take after my father, who moved away just five years ago. He's extremely outgoing.”

“Will I meet your father?”

“You won’t be meeting him…at least, I don’t think you will. Shortly after my mother died he took off for the gold fields on the coast. We haven’t heard from him since.”

“I see. I’ve heard stories of so many men going on that adventure. I hope you hear from him.”

Charles nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Amber tried to think of something else she could ask to better acquaint herself with him.

“Does the hotel do a good business?” she asked.

“It does when the cattlemen come to town, and then I don’t have enough beds for them all, and have to park some on the floor. But when it’s quiet, like tonight, I’ll probably only have a handful of guests.”

“When we’re…
if
we marry, do you have a place for us to live apart from the…um… hotel?”

“Oh, sure!” He smiled. “I have a very nice home behind the hotel. It’s attached to the hotel, but not part of it. There are two bedrooms, a large sitting room, and a modern kitchen. The outhouse is just steps from the back door, and it’s private from the hotel’s outhouse.”

Amber thought he sounded proud of his house. She hoped it was better than the hotel.

“I’ll show it to you tomorrow. It’s nigh onto eight now, and I don’t want to step on Mrs. Smith’s toes—if you know what I mean.” Charles stood.

Amber stood beside him and noticed for the first time that while he was a slim man, he wasn’t as tall as his brother, and not half as burly. She could tell he wasn’t a physical worker, but then again, neither was she.

She smiled at him, and he returned the smile in an almost bashful way that endeared him to her.

“I’ll call on you tomorrow about noon. We can have lunch together at my place if I can talk Garrett into chaperoning us. He doesn’t work on the weekend.”