The Bartender's Mail Order Bride Page 4

  She reached out for the envelope and grasped it firmly, placing it in the pocket of her apron. “I’d be happy to deliver it for you.”

  “See? I told you it wouldn’t bite.”

  Meg smiled and nodded at him as she opened the door, turning back for a small wave to her friends. “Goodbye, all,” she said over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her and walked a few steps closer to the buggy.

  Her back still to the door, she retrieved the letter from her pocket and held it to her chest, her smile taking over as she realized it was just a matter of time—a short time, at that— that she would be Mrs. Samuel Allen.

  As she hopped in the buggy after securing the letter back in her pocket, she headed toward the post office to deliver it as promised. When she was sure that she was no longer in sight of the mercantile, she laughed and guided the horses toward home. She didn’t need to go to the post office. The letter, after all, was for her.

  Chapter 8

  By the time Meg arrived home after her long diversion at the mercantile, dinner was ready and on the table. All she’d had time for was to wash up and join her family.

  It was all she could do to pay attention to what anyone was saying as she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to read the note from Sam that would determine her fate. Every chance she got, she fiddled with it in her pocket, willing dinner to pass more quickly so that she could run to her room and read it in private.

  “Sam got a positive response to his request for a mail order bride today,” Hank said, primarily to his wife, Clara, but the effect was that all nine pair of eyes turned toward him with this news.

  Beau Archer was the first to speak after he’d set his fork down and sat back in his chair. “I’ll never get over this, you young people finding brides this way. If I hadn’t seen it work out in my very home with the wonderful addition of Clara, I would think it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

  “You would think that, Pa, but even with the influx of new folks here in Tombstone due to the mine taking off, most of them have moved from somewhere else, and are either single or don’t know anybody. Except for the ladies at Big Nose Kate’s and the Bird Cage, they’re mostly men. And those ladies aren’t marrying material.”

  “Why not,” Pepper, the youngest Archer girl said, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong with those ladies? They’re women, aren’t they?”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the rest of the table. Beau Archer looked at his youngest daughter, who was just sixteen, and then looked to Clara with pleading eyes. Meg noticed that Clara’s eyes widened and she looked at Hank. Hank cleared his throat and lifted his napkin to his mouth, looking desperately at Meg.

  Meg sighed. Was she the only one around who could handle business? She did, however, glance around once for Maria before she turned to Pepper and said, “There are women who come to places like this, Big Nose Kate’s and The Bird Cage, and they are able to make a very good living on their own. Not everybody wants to get married, you know.”

  “Maybe they just haven’t met the right person yet,” Pepper said, her attention returning to her plate. The older sisters and the men let out a collective sigh of relief as the rest of the girls returned to eating.

  As her family finished dinner, Meg let her mind wander once again to Sam, his strong hands and laughing eyes, and eventually wandered to other thoughts, likely brought up by Pepper’s question. She hadn’t thought her plan out too far down the line, and after she and Sam were married, she wasn’t exactly sure how that would turn out. Would he love her? Of course he would.

  All she knew at the moment was that she intended to be his bride, and if she wasn’t excused from the table soon to read his letter, she’d burst.

  “Papa, may I be excused?” she said as forks were beginning to be laid down and the conversation turned to the younger sisters’ new teacher at the school.

  Her father looked up at her, his surprise evident as he said, “What? No dessert?”

  “Meg, you always have dessert,” Sage, one of the twins, said her fork suspended in mid-air.

  “I have some things on my mind tonight, Sage. You can have mine, if it’s all right, Papa.”

  Maria had entered the dining room from the kitchen and her big, brown eyes bored into Meg until Meg had to look away. The last thing she needed now was Maria asking more questions.

  Her father took the unusual request briefly into consideration and said, “Why not? The girls can sing without you tonight.”

  Meg folded her napkin and laid it on her plate, scooting her chair back. “Thank you, all. Excuse me,” she said, her hand in her pocket and wrapped around Sam’s letter.

  As she rushed down the hall and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, she took it out of her pocket and laid it down on the bed. She sat beside it, staring at it briefly before she tore it open. Her stomach flipped as she started to read.

  Dear Miss Bailey,

  Thank you for responding affirmatively to my request for a bride. It is quite a coincidence that you reside here, so close.

  From what you have told me, it would be a fine union, as your skills and interests are a perfect match for what I wanted.

  I do apologize that we have so little time to get to know one another, but I assure you that you will have a separate room at my home and no marital relations are expected.

  In the interest of time, I suggest that we meet on Thursday at noon, at the Occidental restaurant. It will give you an opportunity to meet me in public before we actually get married, which I also propose is that same day at 1:00 p.m. I do hope that you understand the urgency of the situation, and that a marriage is required as quickly as possible, as I outlined in my advertisement.

  Please confirm your acceptance of these conditions as soon as possible so that I might begin making arrangements for our wedding.

  Yours truly,

  Samuel Allen

  Meg slowly set down the letter on the bed. She thought for a moment that it was a particularly unromantic letter, but then remembered that he thought he was writing to a perfect stranger. She just knew that once she presented herself, he’d be different, more at ease. All they needed was a little time.

  She quickly found paper and pen, and crafted her response.

  Dear Mr. Allen,

  I am pleased to see that you have accepted my request to be your bride. I do realize that time is of the essence in your situation, and I am agreeable to the date and time, both for meeting you and for marriage. Thank you for your consideration regarding separate sleeping quarters.

  I do believe that you will be pleased with this arrangement, as I expect to be as well. This is something that I’ve longed for, and am happy to be of assistance.

  I will meet you in two days’ time on Thursday at noon at the Occidental restaurant. So that you know who I am, I will be wearing…

  Meg set the pen down and thought for a moment. What would she be wearing? This was happening quite quickly, and that was good because if she gave herself time to stop and think about things—whether she should pack all of her clothes, what her father would say, what her sisters would say—she might back out altogether, and that would be her last chance to be with the man she cared about, and most likely loved already.

  She got up and opened her wardrobe, flipping through her dresses. Her heart tugged at the thought that she was actually picking out her wedding dress, and that her mother wouldn’t be there to see it.

  Her hand brushed over a purple satin skirt with matching jacket, its deep sheen catching her eye. It was the last dress she and her mother had picked out together before her mother died, and she knew it was her mother’s favorite. She took it out of the wardrobe and stood in front of the mirror of her vanity, turning right and left with the dress held in front of her.

  It was a bit unconventional, but she didn’t own a white dress and purple suited her personality, in her opinion. And besides, the fact that it had been her last dress chosen with her mother made it special—almo
st as if her mother would be there in spirit, if not in person.

  Decision made, she carefully returned the dress to her wardrobe, picked up the pen and continued her letter.

  I will be wearing purple satin, and I very much look forward to meeting you.

  Sincerely,

  Helen Bailey

  She’d wanted to sign it Mrs. Samuel Allen, but she laughed, knowing she’d have plenty of time for that later. She studied the letter while she blew on the ink to help it dry. Her hand had been steady, and her words were clear. She reached deep down for any thoughts that she was making a mistake, and, finding none, folded the letter and addressed the envelope to Samuel Allen, her future husband.

  Chapter 9

  “Papa, please, can we go?” Meg heard outside her door on the morning of the wedding—her wedding.

  “Girls, it’s a very small affair and I don’t believe they’re expecting everyone.” Her father’s response to her twin sisters, Saffron and Sage, was clear and strong. If it had been her he was speaking to, she’d know that there was no room for argument.

  But Saffron and Sage had experience convincing their father with a power born of doubling up on him, as she suspected all twins did.

  “Suzanne invited us herself when we were in the mercantile yesterday, and she said she’s expecting all of us. Planning for it,” Saffron told her father.

  Meg’s stomach twisted at the thought that her entire family might actually be at her wedding—and for a second, she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She hadn’t had the courage to tell her father yet, and was hoping that he would find out afterward, when it was all said and done. She was of legal age by several years and didn’t need his permission, and she knew she wouldn’t get any other kind of blessing or understanding, as he didn’t want her to have suitors at all, let alone get married to someone he thought she barely knew.

  As she slowly packed her belongings in the bags that were hidden on the far side of her bed, she thought again of Samuel and how happy they would be. In her dreams, awake or asleep, she pictured the two of them, a happy family, maybe with a couple of children, in Samuel’s lovely house in town. She’d seen it once when she’d been in town with her brother Hank and he’d needed to drop something off.

  There was something then and there about the white, clapboard house that had captured her fancy. It was full of beautiful furniture that she’d assumed had come from New York, where she knew Samuel to have been born and raised. Some of the furnishings were things she’d never seen before, having been born and raised in the West, but she remembered thinking that it was lovely, like something you’d see in a big family house, but also comfortable—because it was Samuel’s home.

  She quickly put her hands behind her back to hide the skirt she was folding when she heard the knock on the door.

  “Yes?” she said, her heartbeat quickening.

  “It’s me, Clara. May I come in?”

  Meg quickly stuffed the skirt in her bag and kicked it under the bed before saying, “Of course, Clara. Come in.”

  Clara smiled as she entered and Meg’s heart tugged, happy that Clara would be at her wedding.

  “I was wondering if you were going to Samuel’s wedding this afternoon. And if you are planning to attend, I’d be happy to fix your hair for you this morning.” She smiled as she sat down on the side of the bed.

  Meg’s hands flew to her braids. She hadn’t even thought about what to do with them! If Clara hadn’t offered, she’d have shown up just as she looked now. She sighed with relief and said, “Oh, Clara, that would be wonderful. I do plan to go, and I need practice at fixing my hair on my own.”

  Clara stood and laughed. “There’s no rush, Meg. Plenty of time for you to learn, but I’m happy to do it today and give you another lesson. Back in a bit? I’ll gather my hairpins and combs.”

  “Yes, that would be wonderful, Clara. I very much appreciate it.” Clara smiled again and shut the door behind her.

  Meg went to her jewelry box on the vanity and opened it, rummaging for two tortoise-shell and pearl combs she knew were there somewhere. They had been a gift from her parents after they’d taken a trip to the west coast and seen the ocean. Her hand closed around them and she held them up to her hair, satisfied that they would make a fine addition to the purple satin dress.

  She bathed quickly, brushing her hair out beforehand and making sure she used the scented soap she’d borrowed from Clara a few days before. She dressed slowly, stopping occasionally to look in the mirror and make sure that things were in order. As she put on her crisp, white shirt over the beautiful satin skirt, she smiled, knowing she’d made the right choice.

  Just as she finished dressing, Clara knocked twice and opened the door, peeking her head in. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh, Clara, I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

  Clara laughed as she set the brushes and hair pins down on the vanity. “It’s just a wedding, Meg, but I’m glad you’re excited for it.”

  Meg tried to keep any and all expressions from her face as she sat down on the stool and Clara began to fix her hair. Her nerves were starting to buzz and excitement filled her chest as Clara worked through her hair, turning it into a beautiful mixture of twisted buns pinned high and soft tendrils framing her face.

  “There. What do you think?” Clara said, admiring her handiwork in the mirror.

  “Oh, Clara, it’s beautiful. Thank you.” Meg stood and gave Clara a big hug before she picked up the tortoiseshell combs and held them out to Clara.

  “Those are beautiful, Meg. Would you like me to place them in your hair?”

  Meg looked down at the combs in her hand and thought of her mother, once again wishing she was with her today. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. They were a gift from my parents, and I think they go well with the dress.”

  Clara took the combs and guided Meg back down onto the stool. “Yes, they are gorgeous, and so are you. Maybe there will be someone there who strikes your fancy, and maybe we can convince your father to allow you to accept suitors. You certainly look beautiful today, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you caught someone’s eye.”

  Meg’s neck grew warm at Clara’s compliments. She really should tell her that she wouldn’t need suitors, that Sam Allen was the only man she’d ever even thought of, and that soon, he would be her husband.

  Once again, though, she realized that since she hadn’t told anyone, now was not the time to start, now that everything was so close and within her grasp.

  She hugged Clara once more before she left, and Meg returned to her packing. She’d just finished when she heard another knock on the door and Hank’s voice say, “Come on, Meg. If you’re going to come, now’s the time. We need to get going.”

  “I’ll be right there, Hank,” Meg said, her hands momentarily shaking as she put on the purple satin jacket that perfectly matched her skirt.

  “You look lovely, dear,” her father said as he helped her into the buggy with her other sisters—all five of them—and Hank and Clara. Her father had had to order a special buggy to fit the entire family long ago, and Meg wondered how long it would be before he’d need to order another one.

  Meg couldn’t focus on any of the chatter between her sisters as the buggy headed down the drive and into town, and as it neared the Occidental, she drew in a sharp breath when she saw Samuel standing on the porch of the restaurant, utterly dashing in his dark suit and bow tie. His black hair was slicked back, his blue eyes clear and twinkling as he assisted her family out of the buggy, one by one.

  As she stood and it neared her turn to be helped down from the buggy, the last of the family to do so, her heart beat so fast she was afraid it would thump right out of her chest. She had practiced many responses to him when he noticed she was the woman in the letter, the one in the purple dress. She had not rehearsed a reply to the comment she did get.

  As Samuel reached up and she placed her hand in his, she smiled, waiting for him
to react joyfully that it was she who had responded to him. She was so surprised, she couldn’t think of a thing to say when he said, “Meg, you look lovely today,” and although she thought she caught a spark in his eye when he said it, all she could do was nod when he continued. “Thank you for coming to my wedding. I’m glad you’re here, and I can’t wait for you to meet my new wife.”

  Chapter 10

  Thoughts ran through Meg’s head faster than she could keep up with them. Had he just said what she thought he had? That he was anxious for her to meet his wife? Could he not see her purple dress? Was he blind?

  She suddenly wished she had told someone—anyone—so that she could ask for advice. What should she do now? All the daydreams she’d had about this moment had been very different, and she had nothing at the ready at all for this contingency.

  She took a deep breath and followed her family into the Occidental, playing through different scenarios in her head. Now she was left with making a big announcement, in front of her father and her entire family. She supposed she could just stay silent, and everyone would think that the bride to be had just not shown up. But no, that would mean that she’d still need to negotiate with her father, something she’d rather not have to do.

  On the far right of the Occidental was the private dining area that was used for small gatherings, and from the opposite side of the room, Meg could see that it had been decorated beautifully with purple and white flowers and ribbons to match. As she entered the room, the preacher—likely there to marry them—turned to Sam and said, “Well, young fellow, when are we to begin the ceremony.”

  Sam glanced at the clock, both hands pointing straight up to twelve noon. He looked over to Sadie and Suzanne, who both shrugged their shoulders.