An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series) (2 page)

“Thank you. Can I walk to the mercantile, while you finish your business inside?”

He tied the horse to the hitching post. “No,” he responded firmly. “Not alone.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes. It’s just across the street.”

“And past the saloon. No. I’ll escort you as soon as I check on the books.”

I sighed, staring at the store longingly. There was a sign out front that read:
Higgins Merchandise
. I followed Frank into the church. He hurried to the pulpit, wandering around towards the back, where a small office was located. I waited; staring at the pews, the aroma of freshly cut wood lingering. As with our house, it smelled brand new; the windows were shiny, and a large quilt hung behind the pulpit, with the image of a cross patched together with yellow fabric. We were waiting on a shipment to arrive with a beautifully carved cross, adorned with the form of Jesus, but it hadn’t made it yet.

“Well, I’m plain stumped. Those books should’ve shown up.”

“Maybe they’re at the post office.”

“Josh was supposed to bring them here.” He glanced around the room, his expression darkening. “I need those Bibles.”

“They’re coming.”

“There’s never a shortage of spirits in this town! Do you think the saloon would ever run out of whiskey?”

He was quite passionate about this particular subject. He looked adorable angry. Was I supposed to answer that question?

“No, of course not,” he said bitterly. “The alcohol would never run out.”

“Don’t get all riled up. I’m sure there’s a box of Bibles waiting at the post office.”

“Fine then. We have to come back, if they’re there.”

“I know. I’ll help carry everything. Will that make you happy?”

He took my hand, bringing it to his lips, while smiling affectionately. “Come, my dear. Let’s go to the post office.”

We crossed the street, whilst a strong wind blew, bringing up loose dirt from the road. I grasped my bonnet and kept my face down, trying to prevent the dust from flying into my eyes. Frank guided me past several carts and a fast-moving carriage. The music from the saloon played a lively tune, as men laughed and talked. Incidences of drunkenness were extreme, especially after the miners returned from the mountains, or Cherry Creek, where they panned gold from the sand in the river. That source seemed to be running out, though.

Unfortunately, it was necessary to pass the saloon on the way to the post office; the building in question was one shop away. There were men loitering outside, rough-looking men, who hid their unshaven faces beneath wide-brimmed hats. I avoided gazing at them directly, having learned this the hard way from when I had lived in town.

A commotion within the establishment occurred then, the doors of the saloon bursting open. A man in a suit coat and chaps came flying out, tumbling across the wooden walkway, landing at our feet. His hat had fallen off, revealing a clean-shaven face and startling blue eyes.

“Don't come back, Nathan, until you’re sober!” called the bartender.

I glanced at Frank, who gazed upon the man with an unaffected expression, although I sensed he was amused. “Let me lend you a hand,” he said, reaching out.

It was then that the stranger glanced at me, his gaze drifting from the bottom of my booted toes, to the wide skirt, and higher, resting on my face. “Fine as cream gravy,” he murmured.

Far from offended, my husband helped him to his feet. “There you are, good fellow. Once you’ve spent all your money drinking, you’re more than welcome to stop by the church.”

“A preacher,” he snorted. “I guess that makes you the preacher’s wife?” His interest in me was unseemly. “Yeah, I suppose I should pray…I should ask God for a pretty little lady like you.”

Chapter Two

Living in a mining town filled with coarse men, I was used to this sort of attention, this brazen attitude. I maintained my composure; my shoulders were back, head held high, while my heart hammered against a restrictive corset. Frank took my arm, guiding me away from the stranger, who leered, his eyes following us into the post office. A prick of awareness went down my backbone, knowing that I was being thought of in an immoral light.

“I should put up the help wanted notice right here,” said Frank, pointing to a wooden board on the wall. There were scraps of paper already pinned to it.

“For the fields?”

“Yes. You know I’m no farmer. I need someone to show me the ropes.”

“Here are my letters.” I handed him six neatly folded envelopes.

“Thank you, sweetness.”

I was flattered by the compliment, but refrained from commenting, as people stared at us.

The post office bustled with customers; a line had formed, as men waited eagerly for their mail. The aroma of freshly cut pine mixed with unwashed bodies; these miners had only recently come from the mountains. My fingers itched to hold a handkerchief to my nose, although I refrained from doing so. I waited by the windows, keeping my eyes downcast, while Frank posted a “help wanted” notice on the board. There were dozens of similar notices, some asking for missing people.

Bells clanged, as the door swung open and a woman entered. “I thought that was you!” she gushed.

I met the gaze of a friendly face. “Adaline Ross.”

“It’s so good to see you.”

She was the banker’s wife. “We’ve been wanting to come to town all week, but we were horribly busy.”

“I understand. How are you?”

“I’m well, and you?”

She leaned in, whispering, “I’m just fine. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Can you come over for tea after church? I’ve invited Rhoda Caldwell and Sally Higgins as well. Our husbands have some influence in Denver City. It’s time we had a discussion about where things are going.”

I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to be social, although I had no idea what she was talking about. “Of course. I’d love to join you after church.”

“Excellent.” Her smile was genuine. “I’ll let them know then. You have a good day, dear. It’s been a madhouse. Supply wagons came yesterday.”

“Oh, that sounds promising.”

“They really need to bring the railroad out.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

“With miners coming every day, it won’t be long before it happens. Things are changing rapidly.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Please, say hello to your husband for me. I must be going.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday, Adaline.”

“Sunday.” She hurried out the door, her green skirts whooshing behind her.

I waited ten minutes for Frank to get the mail; my excitement was palpable, seeing the small stack of envelopes in his hand. I would savor each letter, reading it in peaceful solitude later.

He held open the door for me, as we left. “You’ll be pleased to know that everyone in your acquaintance has written and I’ve received only one letter from my sister.”

“I’m anxious to read them, but we have other errands first.” In my excitement, I had forgotten about the drunkard who had unceremoniously fallen at my feet. He stood against a wood beam, his hat slightly askew, watching us, as we strolled down the walkway. I hid under the bonnet, avoiding his gaze. “Mrs. Ross says hello to you.”

“That’s kind of her.”

“She’s invited me to tea after church.”

“Excellent, Hannah. I can stay and get some work done.”

“I’d like that very much. I hardly ever see anyone.”

“It’ll be good for you.” A gust of wind picked up the loose dirt from the street. “Something’s coming in fast. We’d best hurry or we’ll be caught in it.”

I’d nearly forgotten. “You didn’t get your Bibles?”

“No, unfortunately. Another shipment’s coming in on Monday.”

I smiled sympathetically. “It’ll be all right. We’ll make do.”

“Yes, dear.”

At the carpenters, I waited just inside the door, while Frank bought a new hammer and a bag of nails, along with glue. He was packed and ready within minutes, escorting me to the mercantile. There were several items I needed here, among them, sugar, tea, and mason jars. If there was any money left over, I could indulge in fabric and thread and possibly even yarn.

We weren’t through the door more than a second before I heard, “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Clark! How are you, Hannah?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Higgins, and you?”

“Well as can be expected.” She was tall for a woman; her blonde hair fell to the sides of her face, while the rest had been done up in a braided bun.

“How’s Mr. Higgins?” asked Frank.

“Just fine, Pastor Clark. I’m not usually one to gossip, but a little birdie told me you’ve completed your house.”

“We have,” I said. “I really should invite everyone out. Perhaps, when the weather’s better, we can have dinner, and you can see all the improvements.”

“That would be lovely, Hannah.”

“You know about tea on Sunday, don’t you?”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“So will I.” I glanced longingly at the selection of fabric stacked against the wall. “Oh, those look marvelous.”

“New shipments came in yesterday. You’re more than welcome to have a look.” I glanced at my husband, whose expression was deceivingly blank. “There’s lovely lace and ribbons.”

“I think I’ll visit the lumber store for a spell. I’ve some ideas for a bunkhouse. It seems like you’ll be here…for a while.”

He was going to indulge me! “I’ll try to be quick about it.”

“Take your time. The weather will hold. You should enjoy yourself, while you can.”

“Thank you, dear.”

He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon. I’ll retrieve my wife in fifteen minutes.”

Once he’d gone, Mrs. Higgins said, “Your husband is entirely devoted to you, Hannah.”

My fingers ran over a length of cloth, delighting in the softness of the fabric. “He is. He spoils me so. I think I’ll need two yards of this…and possibly a yard and a half of the calico.”

“Good choice.”

My happiness could hardly be contained. Not only did I have an abundance of mail to read, but I also had enough fabric and yarn to keep me busy for at least three weeks. I felt blessed then and quite lucky in the life God had chosen for me.

Once all the packages were stowed securely in the back of the wagon, we were seated on the wooden plank, braving the gusty weather, as thick, grey clouds began to settle in on top of us. The temperature had plummeted, alluding to rain or possibly even snow later in the evening. By the time we reached the house, the first droplet fell, and I thanked my lucky stars that we hadn’t stayed in the city any longer than we had.

After making dinner and tidying up, I sat on the sofa, which was the one item of luxury I was able to bring, and read my letters by lamplight. My older sister, Louisa, attended a woman’s college in Troy, and she was planning a wedding soon. Paulina had stars in her eyes, wanting to join me out west. She was seriously considering traveling with friends, who wanted to homestead in California. She had dozens of question about how we had survived for two months on the Oregon Trail. The youngest, Fanny, was still in school. There had been a death in the neighborhood; Mr. Porter had fallen over during dinner, in what they say had been a serious heart malady. My sisters rarely discussed politics, although a storm was brewing with the south over slavery.

When I’d had my fill of all things related to family, I turned down the lamp and went upstairs, where Frank was in the process of changing into his nightclothes. A dim lamp sat on a bedside table. All of our furniture, besides the sofa, was rustic; the bed had been bought in Denver City from a Dutch merchant. It was plain looking, yet functional.

“So tell me,” said Frank. “How are the energetic Hoffman sisters?”

“Fine. Louisa is getting married soon and Paulina wants to come here. Good gracious. It’s such a long journey. I don’t think I could do it again, even if I wanted to. They all want to know what’s happening with the gold. They seem to think it’s falling from the trees.”

Frank washed his face and hands in a white ceramic bowl on the dresser. “If they only knew the truth. It’s dirty, filthy, backbreaking work.”

“Is it true that a miner dies every day on the mountain?” I’d begun to unhook and unbutton the dress.

“Not every day, but close.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Should I help you, my dear?”

My arms were behind my back. “Would you?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The husky tone in his voice gave me pause, as little butterflies began to bounce in my stomach.

Once the dress was off, the task of removing the corset began, Frank untying the laces. My crinoline wasn’t nearly as big as some I had seen at home. I had to be practical when it came to how I dressed, and I only wore the steel cage to town and to church. In my daily life, such garments were unfeasible. When I had undressed completely, leaving only a chemise, a pile of frilly white things were draped over the chair. I found my nightclothes in a drawer, and Frank turned his back while I changed. Then I washed my face and hands with tepid water. Crawling into bed, I listened to the rain hitting the dormer windows.

“We’re getting a good soaking.”

“The roof seems to be holding.” He turned the lamp down. Then he slid next to me, his nose near my neck. “You smell sweet.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Hands were suddenly on me. “Oh, Frank. I have my monthly.”

“We’ll be…careful.”

I pushed against him, intrigued yet worried over the possible mess. “You’re incorrigible. Stop that.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Pretty please with molasses on top?”

“We should get to sleep. We’re up so early.”

The bed creaked with the weight of his body, as he was now on top of me. “I’m stealing the kisses then. You’ve been warned.”

“Oh, you—” I giggled, enjoying teasing him, although I knew I would give in. Our lips met, breaths mingling, as things suddenly became far more heated.

***

The barn door slamming must have woken me. Frank had gone out to milk the cow. Rolling over in bed, I stretched, arching my back, relieved to know that most of my chores had been completed during the week. There was breakfast to be made, but, other than food preparation, I would be free to sew, and I had several exciting projects planned. I got up to look out the window.