Lassoing A Mail-Order Bride Read online

  “You’re quite pale, Mr. Driscoll. I think you should sit.”

  He cut her a sidelong glance. She was close enough that he could feel her body heat, and the scent of her perfume made him a little lightheaded. When she took hold of his hand, the soft warmth of her touch made his heart leap into his throat. She led him to a chair and, situating herself beside him, positioned hers so their knees touched. His breath hitched, and he scooted his chair, which prompted her to move her chair even closer. He was too old for parlor games, and she seemed determined to make him uncomfortable with her casual familiarity. The other women had kept a safe, proper distance across the table barricade.

  She filled a glass with water from the pitcher at hand and gave it to him. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  Dumbly, he accepted the water, but she didn’t let go when he wrapped his big hand around the glass, trapping her fingers under his. It gave him a start, and he released his grasp like he’d been burned. That’s when he looked at her. Really looked.

  Damn.

  A fiery flush rose up his neck, and his button-up shirt collar felt like it was strangling him. She was a fine looking woman—creamy smooth skin with a rosy complexion and bright intelligent eyes. Her hat, perched just so on top of the curls pinned up on her head, accentuated her neat, tailored and expensive traveling outfit, which hugged a good figure.

  Her gentle touch and the hint of roses hovering about her stirred memories of long ago summer evenings rocking on the porch swing, watching the stars come out, holding hands and sipping lemonade, listening to the owls conversing in the tops of the cottonwoods in the yard, then retiring to the bedroom and slipping between cool sheets—

  He jerked back to his senses. Damn it to hell, he’d no business entertaining bedroom thoughts about a woman. And a total stranger at that. It wasn’t part of the arrangement; besides, it not being a fitting topic to broach with a lady. A man could get himself into all sorts of trouble thinking of a woman the way he was thinking of her.

  “Miss Morris, it’d be best if we don’t—”

  “—waste any more time with formalities? I concur, so I’ll move right on. Mr. Perlman explained your situation, and I find it quite agreeable. I admire your determination to assume responsibility for your grandchildren. And please accept my condolences for the loss of your son and daughter-in-law. Such a needless tragedy. With your wife gone but these four years, you’ve had more than your share of troubles.” She clucked her tongue in sympathy and rested her hand upon his knee as if it were the most natural thing to do.

  Simon mumbled his thanks, his hands sweating and his mouth as dry as cotton.

  “Let’s get to the heart of the issue, shall we?” She sat back, giving space between them, and Simon exhaled in relief.

  “As you can see from my appearance, I have a sturdy and healthy constitution. I am of good moral character, although you’ll have to take my word on it, as I am willing to trust you. I’ve lived most of my life in a quaint little lakeshore town I’m sure you’ve never heard of.” She gestured in a generally easterly direction.

  “It was by chance that I came upon your advertisement just at a time when I needed an adventure to take me away from the aftermath of an unfortunate tragedy that…” Tessa sighed, shaking her head, making an indistinct humming noise in her throat. “Well, I just couldn’t bear it anymore, and I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Simon grasped for anything to interrupt her discourse in order to gain a modicum of control over the interview. He stuttered, “O-O-Older. I’m looking for an older, experienced—”

  “What a lovely compliment, thank you. I certainly don’t consider myself older. I’m flattered that you don’t consider me so, either. While a gentleman wouldn’t dream of asking a lady’s age, I’ll save you the embarrassment and tell you I’ll be forty-two come September seventeenth.”

  With an indignant head toss, she went on. “Some would call me a spinster, an old maid, but I beg to differ. I was engaged to be married some years ago. I count myself blessed that he jilted me at the altar. Oh, I was heartbroken at the time, but as it turned out, he’s twice divorced now.” Leaning closer and lowering her voice, she said, “You may think me bold, but I must confess that we took certain intimate liberties afforded a betrothed couple. So, if you’re concerned that at my older age I’m afraid of the marriage bed, you needn’t be. I’m quite comfortable with the intimate relations between husband and wife.”

  Simon’s mouth dropped open. He’d never met a woman as straightforward. She was bowling right over him, and he hadn’t a clue how to stop her. The solid ground he’d been on with the other women felt like sinking in quicksand with her.

  “I have your advertisement here.” Reaching into her handbag, she brought out a paper with a torn, jagged edge, and smoothed it out on her lap. “Granted, I’ve never been married nor have I children, but I’m certainly not opposed to either marriage or children, in this case, Mr. Perlman explained, your grandchildren.” She tapped the paper on her lap. “To further address your requirements, I am well-educated, I keep a decent house, and I am acceptably versed in culinary endeavors. My meat and potato pasty and whitefish chowder are highly regarded.

  “I am of independent means, partly through inheritance. When my parents died many years ago, my brother and I shared in the sale of the family fishing business. I supplemented my inheritance through offering aid to the ill and infirm. I have some skills in the healing arts.” She paused, a frown troubling her forehead as she ran her finger down the page. “Hmm. Seems to me I’ve overlooked something.”

  Wits returning, Simon said, “Miss Morris, I appreciate your candid enthusiasm, but—”

  “Oh, here it is. Attending church is agreeable, as is residing in the country. Mr. Perlman explained that you are the county’s undertaker. You’ll find that I will be of considerable help and support for you in that area.” With this, she fell silent and looked at him with expectant interest.

  What could he say? Thank you for traveling all this way, but you’re too spirited for me? She’d blown into the room like a cyclone moving across the open prairie, disrupting everything in its path, including him. How could he keep up with her? On the other hand, a woman this full of vitality was what he needed for minding rambunctious grandkids. But still, her forthright way of taking charge might prove as problematic as helpful. She was as far from Mamie in looks and actions as the others reminded him of his late wife—

  That’s why I couldn’t see anything but their faults.

  Now it made sense why he’d been dragging his feet. He couldn’t bring another Mamie into his house…their home. His heart couldn’t bear it, and a new wife didn’t deserve playing second-fiddle to his memories. It all had to be different in this marriage, or he couldn’t marry at all, not even for the sake of his grandchildren. Discontented adults made for unhappy children.

  He realized he was staring at her, and he felt like an idiot because she probably thought he’d lost his mind, but the sparkle in her eyes and her soft, patient smile eased his fears. She was the one. Worry left him; his body relaxed. In his mind, he knew what to say, but no matter how he tried to fashion the words, nothing came out right.

  “Miss Morris… I think this will work out. We should… I mean to say, would you consider… Um, will you…?”

  “Why, Mr. Driscoll, you certainly know how to woo a lady. I accept your proposal of marriage. Shall we discuss the details over dinner? We really should become better acquainted before we make the final decision. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Simon smiled. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but whatever it was felt mighty good.

  ****

  August 3, 1889 Platte River City

  Unaccustomed to the dry, prairie climate, Tessa was grateful for the clouds building in the north, which Simon assured her was a harbinger of a cooler afternoon after the past month of sweltering July heat. When the buckboard topped the rise, Tessa could see the town just a mile farther on.
She was as eager as she was nervous for her first venture into the community, and thankful that Simon had stayed home this past week to help settle the children into a family routine, before expecting her to meet a town full of strangers.

  Simon reached over and patted Tessa’s knee. “Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you. Louise and Regina are going to help with the kids, and they’ll introduce you to folks and keep you company when I’m helping out with the celebration.”

  Tessa nodded, smiling, but the flutters in her stomach wouldn’t settle down. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I hope to make a favorable impression. I don’t want to disappoint you or your friends.”

  Simon looked at her, eyebrows raised, head cocked to the side. “Disappoint me? Why, Mrs. Driscoll, you’ve given me some surprises in the last month, but disappointment hasn’t been one of them.”

  “Oh? And what surprises are those?”

  “Well, for not ever having children, you sure have a way with them. It comes natural to you.” He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the four children riding in the wagon bed. “We have two extra because you couldn’t leave them at the orphanage. And cook. Mm-mm.” He rubbed his belly. “It’s a good thing I walk to and from town, or I’d outgrow my britches before Christmas.”

  She laughed when he stuck his belly out, and it felt good to laugh. Not that she’d been unhappy or discontented in Reese Point, but going from living alone to sharing her life with a houseful of people had turned her world upside down in ways she’d never entertained as possibilities and couldn’t imagine living without now.

  “You’ve surprised me, as well. I wasn’t expecting such a large house, or that it would be as well-fitted and tidy. You put a lot of time and money into making it comfortable for all of us.”

  “I’m glad you like it. That means a lot.”

  “Grams! Pap! I can read the banner across the street. It says, 13th Annual Platte River City & Colorado Days Celebration. What does that mean?” Lydia leaned between Tessa and Simon, pointing ahead.

  Simon explained. “It means the town has held a celebration every year since Colorado was admitted to the Union the first of August, 1876. We hold our celebration on the first Saturday in August.”

  Tessa asked, “When was the town founded?”

  “In the spring of 1860, the town sprang up at the Junction Cut-off on the South Platte River Road, but the town wasn’t officially named and platted until May of ’76. Since it was the same year as statehood, we put both celebrations on the same day.”

  “So you’ve lived here quite a long while.”

  He nodded and clucked to the matched team of bays pulling the wagon. “Ben and I fought together at Gettysburg and, when the war was over, we came out here. He started a newspaper, and I ran cattle on the river bottom.”

  “How did you get into the undertaking business?”

  Simon chuckled. “Oh, I sort of fell into it. My dad was a coffin maker and sometimes undertaker. I learned what I know from him. When the need came up here, I said I could do it, but I leave the funeral services and all that to the preachers. Sometimes folks pay me, most times they trade something because they don’t have the extra money. Side of beef, firewood. It helps make ends meet.”

  “I know. I’ve been in that situation many times.” The instant the words left her mouth, she was sorry. Turning her face, she cringed. By nature, she was open and forthright, and this hiding her past was going against who she was. She likened it to lying, which just didn’t set with her.

  “What do you mean?”

  Fiddling with her hat, she said, “Um…what I meant was, I grew up in a Great Lakes fishing community, and it was the same there. People traded wares for services when they didn’t have money to pay.”

  A din arose from the back with an enthusiasm that made one child’s voice indistinguishable from the other. Tessa sighed with relief for the interruption. Two-year-old Joy squirmed on Tessa’s lap, caught up in her siblings’ excitement.

  “Look, look! There’s more peoples like us in wagons.”

  “I hope I make a whole bunch of friends today.”

  “I hope there’s fireworks tonight.”

  “I want ice cream.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I like chocolate cake and cherry pie.”

  “Sarsaparilla!”

  “Well, kids, I’ve never missed a celebration yet. I can promise you’ll all get your wishes. Tables will be overflowing with so much food that you won’t know what to try first, and you won’t come up short on ice cream. You can run in the foot races and watch the cowpony races. There’ll be dancing this evening. Then when it’s good and dark, you’ll get your fireworks.”

  Simon drove the team along the main street and pulled to a stop at the edge of a grassy, cottonwood shaded park. Makeshift tables already piled with food dishes, tents with the sides rolled up, various tables and chairs scattered here and there, and blankets spread on the ground dotted the area. A flurry of children and dogs ran about amongst the already picnickers.

  “All right, everybody out, and help your grandma carry the food.”

  The children clambered out of the buckboard. Simon took Joy from Tessa’s arms, set her on the ground beside him, and then helped Tessa down. He reached into the back of the buckboard and brought out heaping wicker baskets of food. Stepping back, he looked the group over, nodding.

  “I expect each of you to be on your best behaviors today. It’s yes ma’am and yes sir when spoken to, and none of you go wandering off by yourselves. Make sure we know where you are. Do you understand?” He looked at Tessa for agreement, and she nodded.

  He received a collective yes sir, Pap.

  “Good. Remember, this is your home now. You’ll go to school here. And church. Be proud of it, be proud of yourselves, and act accordingly.”

  His uncharacteristic scowl made Tessa wonder what he was up to.

  “And I’d better not see any of you at the beer wagon, or I’ll tan your backsides.”

  Four pairs of eyes went wide, shoulders straightened. Tessa put her hand over her mouth to conceal her smile.

  Adam stammered, “B—b—but we don’t drink beer, Pap. Are you funnin’ us?”

  Simon burst out in hearty laughter and tussled Adam’s shock of curly hair. “Yes, I’m just funnin’. Go have a good time.”

  Paul tugged at Tessa’s skirt. She looked down, and he motioned for her to come closer. When she knelt, he whispered into her ear. Smiling, she patted his shoulder. “No, he’s not cross with you. He means for you to mind your manners, act like a gentleman, and not get into trouble.”

  Paul puffed out his chest, smiling a toothy grin. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Simon!”

  Tessa turned to see a woman waving as she trotted toward them with two older girls hurrying behind to keep up. The dark-haired girl resembled the woman enough that Tessa presumed they were mother and daughter. All three embraced Simon, and the woman took hold of Tessa’s hands with a welcoming smile that put Tessa at ease.

  Simon introduced them. “This is Louise Perlman, Ben’s wife, their daughter, Regina, and her cousin, Sandra.”

  Louise beamed. “We’re so pleased to finally meet you. Now, who are these fine ladies and gentlemen with you?”

  Ben walked up and clapped Simon on the shoulder. “Allow me.”

  Adam said, “I remember you. You met us at the train and drove us home.”

  “I did indeed. Now, let’s see how well I do. Hmm.” He studied the children. “I believe you are the oldest of the three Driscoll siblings—Adam—and you are six.”

  “Six and a half.”

  “I stand corrected. Now, young man, your name is Paul, and you are five.”

  Paul shuffled his feet, his cheeks bright red from the attention.

  Ben hoisted the little girl into his arms and gave her a squeeze. “Josephine is two.”

  She giggled. “Me Jo.”

  Tessa interjected, “She can’t say he
r name, and she’s such a delight, so I’ve been calling her Joy. I remembered I had such trouble pronouncing my birth name that my grandfather shortened it for me.”

  Simon gave her an odd look. “You had trouble with Tessa?”

  For a moment, she didn’t understand. Then she realized her slip. Hastily, she explained, “I had trouble with the double ‘s’ sound and two syllables. He called me Tess.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Ben watching her, and she kicked herself for her faux pas. It wouldn’t do to arouse a newspaperman’s curiosity.

  Drawing the two older girls to her as a diversion, Tessa said, “We adopted these young ladies at the orphanage.”

  “Yes, sisters. Clara Jean, who is eight, and Miss Lydia is ten.”

  Louise held her arms wide, inviting the children to come to her. She reminded Tessa of a busy bantam hen mothering her clutch of chicks. “You may call me Mama-Louise. Let’s take your food to the tables. Now stay with Miss Regina and Miss Sandra. They’ll watch over you today.”

  Simon climbed onto the buckboard seat, speaking to Tessa as he took up the reins. “I’m going to turn the team out in a corralled-off area just outside of town. I won’t be long.”

  By the time he returned, there wasn’t room for one more food dish on any table. The inviting aroma of spit-roasting beef wafting on the breeze promised to be a special treat for supper. Tessa spent the afternoon wandering about, visiting with this person, introducing herself to that one, and generally enjoying mingling with the townsfolk while receiving regular updates of the Driscoll children’s victories and defeats in the footraces and games. Long shadows lay upon the town when she settled once again in the shade of the cottonwood tree to sip lemonade with Louise while Joy napped on a blanket at their feet.

  Tessa was satisfied with her skillful skirting of Louise’s polite, yet prying questions about her past: where she was from, details about her family, what prompted her to respond to a stranger’s marriage advertisement. Tessa chatted with tempered honesty, sharing enough to protect her identity, yet with sufficient detail to satisfy a newspaperman’s wife.