The Bride's House (7 page)

“She’s a scoundrel for temptation, all right.” Hog ran his tongue over his wet lips. “Red-haired women’s as devilish as they can be. I guess I wouldn’t mind trying to take it out of her.”

“You’d have to pay me something, a dollar maybe.”

“I ain’t had a dollar in my life. Hell, I don’t have two bits. But I got a shoat I could let you have.”

“Have at her then, if you can. You’ll need sharp luck. She’s a vixen.” Nealie’s father pushed her toward Hog, but Hog was clumsy and didn’t get a good hold of Nealie, and she broke and ran for the house.

“Get back here, or you’ll get a cowhidin’,” her father called. But Nealie barred the door of the house and wouldn’t let her father in until he was sober. That night, she made plans to leave, and it wasn’t more than three days later that she’d taken the seed money and lit out.

With a pa like that, Nealie had learned to be careful, and instead of schooling herself to flirt and simper like most girls her age, she had taught herself to watch out for men for fear of being disgraced. She was only just now learning there were others—gentlemen like Will Spaulding and even Charlie Dumas.

So the girl had not considered that she could make a man jealous, and the idea confused her. If she liked Will Spaulding, why not let him know it? But Mrs. Travers had had more experience with men, and Nealie decided the woman might be right. Maybe it was best Will knew there were others anxious to escort her places. Maybe next time, he wouldn’t take his time asking her out.

So Nealie went to the performance with Charlie and was so delighted with it that she forgot who sat beside her. The girl could scarcely believe the play wasn’t real. For a moment, she hated the villain as much as if he’d been her pa, and although she wasn’t a church person, she prayed—prayed that the girl would end up with the handsome man. “Oh, it was wonderful, Mr. Dumas,” she said when the gaslights were turned up, careful not to call her escort Charlie.

Charlie beamed. “If you’re not too tired, Miss Nealie, we can take supper at the hotel.”

“Truly?” Nealie asked. Imagine eating dinner twice at the Hotel de Paris, when Mrs. Travers had never been there even once. She followed Charlie out of the theater, casting about for Will. He was seated in the front row, a woman beside him, but Nealie wasn’t sure whether Will had escorted her or she was with the man on the other side of her.

At the hotel, Charlie opened the door, going in ahead of her. Once they were seated, he looked askance at the menu, just as Nealie had the other time she’d eaten there. “You can read, can’t you?” Nealie asked.

“Of course I can read. I just never ate anyplace that wrote it down.”

Nealie looked at her own menu then, realizing that it was mostly in English with just a few French words. Nonetheless, she had no idea what the dishes were, and when the man came back to take their order, she said, “I want venison and raspberry ice. No oysters. Don’t you bring me oysters, for I’m not much of a fool about them.”

“Same,” Charlie said, and when the waiter was gone, he asked, “I guess you ate here before.”

“Well, of course, I have,” Nealie replied, then a little ashamed of her pomposity, she giggled, “Once.”

“With Will Spaulding?” Charlie asked.

Nealie didn’t answer. Instead, she looked around the room, stopping to stare at a woman. “Why, that’s the lady in the play. She isn’t nearly so pretty up close, is she?” Nealie studied the actress and added, “She’s just an ordinary woman and kind of old.”

“That’s why they call it playacting. It’s not real.”

“But up there on the stage, it’s like magic. I believe I like the magic better. I wonder what it would be like to be a play actress.”

“I don’t think you ought to be one, Miss Nealie. They’re not good women. Some of them are … well, you know.”

Nealie studied him a minute. Of course she knew, and it surprised her, because Charlie rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. She wondered then if he was hidebound. But before she could consider that further, the waiter set down their plates. Nealie carefully picked up her knife, and pinning down the meat with her fork, she cut a single bite. As she put it into her mouth, she watched Charlie cut the venison into strips, then turn his plate so that he could cut the strips crosswise. He stirred the peas and carrots into the potatoes and gravy, then mixed in the meat, and leaning over his plate, he shoveled in a mouthful. Nealie looked around the room, but no one was watching. She cleared her throat, and Charlie looked up, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you like it?” he asked, looking at her plate, because while he had gobbled a fourth of his food in two bites, Nealie had eaten only a single piece of meat.

“I’m trying to eat slow,” she said, but that was not the only reason she had eaten so little. She still had trouble holding her fork the way Will did.

“Well, I don’t know why. It’ll get cold.” Charlie continued pushing food into his mouth, until his plate was almost empty. Then he glanced around the room and saw that the other diners were eating as slowly as Nealie. “These folks all eat as prissy as Will Spaulding,” he said.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt a person to learn manners,” Nealie replied.

“Don’t you think I have manners, Miss Nealie?”

The girl blushed, because she herself had been sensible of table manners for only two weeks. Besides, she was not an unkind person. “I just learned about them myself,” she said, adding quickly, so that Charlie would not bring up Will Spaulding again, “I read about them in a book that Mrs. Travers has.”

“Maybe she’ll give me the borrow of that book sometime.”

“Maybe,” Nealie said, doubting the man would ever read such a tome.

Charlie speared a piece of meat, then tried to rub off the mashed potato clinging to it, and brought it to his mouth. “How’s that?” he asked.

He reminded her of a puppy who wanted a pat on the head, so Nealie smiled and nodded her approval, although she considered Charlie as unmannerable as ever.

The big man finished his meal, then pushed the plate aside. He removed the napkin from his shirtfront and rubbed his mouth, then ran it over his face and set it on the table, as he sat watching Nealie eat. When she was finished, he said, “There’s something I’m wanting to ask you.”

Nealie stiffened, because she didn’t want Charlie claiming another evening before Will had a chance to ask. She wondered how she could turn him down without being rude.

When Nealie didn’t encourage him, Charlie fidgeted. “You see…” He cleared his throat and moved around. “You see, Miss Nealie … that is … I’ve been thinking.” He stopped and leaned over the table. “I never liked anybody as much as you. I work hard, and I keep myself clean, and I don’t drink or chew. My claim looks good, and I’ve got a little money put aside. And I own my cabin.” He ran his finger around his collar and blurted out, “Would you marry me?” Charlie looked askance then, and his face turned red, as if he’d uttered an obscenity. “I never asked that of anybody before.”

“Mr. Dumas—” Nealie replied, her eyes wide. But at that moment, the waiter removed their plates, and took out a small brush to sweep the crumbs around Charlie’s place into a silver dustpan. He left, and the two avoided looking at each other. Nealie’s face was on fire, and she had a powerful need to dip her napkin into her water glass and rub off the heat. Instead, she stared at the tablecloth, noting a tiny hole that would have to be mended or else the cloth would begin to ravel. With her fingernail, she worried the hole, pulling a thread loose.

“Did you hear what I said, Miss Nealie?” Charlie asked.

Nealie’s eyes felt as heavy as flatirons as she raised them to face Charlie. “Mr. Dumas, I…”

He leaned farther forward, his forearms on the table, watching her.

Nealie tried to think of something gracious to say and suddenly remembered words from a story in Mrs. Travers’s
Peterson’s Magazine
. “I am mindful of the honor,” she said, not remembering the rest of the sentence, so she thought a moment and continued. “Well, I guess I’m not ready to get married. I haven’t been in Georgetown so long, and I don’t want to get tied down yet. There’s things I want to do before I get married.”

“What things?”

Nealie shrugged, wishing her mind worked faster. “Just things. You know, things.”

“You’re not saying no, are you?” Charlie held his breath.

She was saying no, the girl thought, but she didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. “I guess I’m not saying yes,” she told him.

Charlie let out his breath in a whoosh and grinned at her. “I’ll just wait, then. I’m not so good at waiting, but I guess I’ll just have to do that.” He was so happy that Nealie was glad she hadn’t told him outright she wouldn’t have him.

The waiter set down their ice, and Charlie watched as Nealie picked up her spoon, not gripping it in her fist but holding it awkwardly in her fingers. Charlie tried to copy her but dropped the spoon.

The sound made Nealie jump, and she looked around the room to see if anyone was staring. But nobody seemed to notice. She ate her dessert with her eyes downcast, not looking to see how Charlie ate. When she was finished, she stood up, saying she needed fresh air, because the room seemed hot and stuffy to her. Charlie paid the bill and followed Nealie to the door. “We could walk around a little, if you want to,” he said, as Nealie stood in the doorway, fanning her face.

“I need to cool down,” she said.

So they took a roundabout way back to the boardinghouse, going up the hill and circling back down to the bride’s house on Taos Street, Nealie’s favorite stop.

“I guess that’s going to be the prettiest house in Georgetown,” she said. “The yard’s big enough for an ice-cream social.”

“I wonder who’s going to live there.”

“A bride,” Nealie said. “It’s a bride’s house. Only a bride can live there. She’d plant lilacs all around it, and you could smell them every summer.” Nealie turned away so that Charlie wouldn’t suspect that she was thinking about Will Spaulding, instead of him, as the bridegroom. It almost made her blush to think she could be so bold as to dream she and Will would live there.

“Her husband’d have to be awful rich.”

“And she’d have to be awful lucky.”

“If you was to say yes to me, I’d show you my cabin. It’s not so big as this, but it’s tight, and it’s got two rooms.” He looked hopefully at Nealie, but she was lost in thought about the house for a bride and didn’t reply.

*   *   *

It was not Charlie Dumas’s cabin that Nealie visited the next day, however. Will Spaulding called that Sunday, Nealie’s day off, and asked her to walk out with him. He waited on the porch while Nealie went inside the house to change into her boots, because a rain had stirred up the mud.

Mrs. Travers followed Nealie into the girl’s bedroom, remarking, “You see, going out with Charlie Dumas did make Mr. Spaulding jealous.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Oh, I like him well enough, but he strikes me as a courting man, a fellow who’ll go after all the girls. You wouldn’t want to spoil things with Mr. Dumas. He’s as good a catch as you’ll ever find.”

“Charlie asked me to marry him.” Nealie had not expected to tell Mrs. Travers. The words just popped out. She stood, the boot half on, looking at the older woman.

Mrs. Travers sat down on Nealie’s bed, a cot really, neatly made up with a faded quilt. “He did, did he? I’m not surprised. What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t. I don’t care to marry him, so I didn’t say yes. But I didn’t say no, either. I’m not for hurting a person’s feelings.” Nealie sat down next to Mrs. Travers, tugging at the boot, until it slipped over her foot. She tightened the laces.

“It’s you I worry about getting hurt. Will Spaulding is as handsome as a foot racer, but don’t waste your time thinking he’s the marrying kind. You might lose out on Mr. Dumas.”

“I guess I can take care of myself,” Nealie said.

“Can you?”

Nealie didn’t look at the older woman but, instead, reached for the second boot, annoyed, yanking it on. Then she laughed. “Except for almost getting my purse stole the day I got here. But I’m not taking my purse today.”

When Nealie returned to the porch, Will held out his arm to her, and Nealie took it, glancing behind her to see if Mrs. Travers noticed. The woman did. She stood in the doorway and waved, because skeptical as she was, she obviously found the man likable and knew that Nealie cared to be with him. More than that, perhaps, she loved Nealie and wanted the girl to have a little pleasure before the cares of life in a mining town wore her down. The girl had only recently discovered happiness and did not know it would not last forever.

“Where would you have us go?” Will asked. “We’ll walk anywhere you like.”

“The depot. I like the depot,” Nealie said. “It’s so busy, and I always wonder where all those folks are going to or where they came from.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. Everybody there will envy me for being with such a pretty girl.” Will put his hand over hers and squeezed.

Nealie was not used to such compliments and, instead of replying, she broke away, embarrassed, and took long steps down the board sidewalk. After a block or so, she turned and saw that Will lagged behind, so she slowed and matched her stride to his. A train whistle split the air just as they reached the station, and Nealie was delighted that they had arrived in time to watch the train stop. “Look at all those people,” Nealie said, as the two of them stood outside the depot and watched the passengers climb down from the cars, some standing on the platform looking around. “Why’s so many coming here?”