No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (12 page)

There was a washtub filled with warm, soapy water in the back yard when Amy got home from her second day at the livery, the washboard leaning ready against the side.

When she walked into the parlour Adam looked up from the stove where a pot of water was steaming. “How was your day?”

She flexed her arms, just because she could. “Less of me’s aching than yesterday.”

“That’s good.” He wrapped a cloth around the handle of the pan and carried it to the sink, adding it to the water already there and then checking the temperature with his finger. “I figured you’d enjoy hot water for your wash today.”

She took in the towel folded on the drainer with a bar of soap lying on top, her washcloth next to it, and the aroma of cooking food emanating from the oven. For some inexplicable reason the whole tableau made her want to burst into tears.

Adam rushed over to her, his smile disappearing. “Oh, hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together and blinking back tears. “Nothing. Just... all this.” She waved a hand around the kitchen. “You did all this for me.” Her voice rose to a squeak on the final word and she cleared her throat, embarrassed.

His smile returned. “Well, if I’d known it was going to make you cry I would have warned you first.”

A laugh bubbled up in her chest and she wiped the backs of her hands across her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just not used to being looked after.”

“I like looking after you,” he said, tapping his wet fingertip lightly on her nose. “I’ve only had myself to take care of since I moved back here. I was getting lazy.”

One tiny touch and her heart was racing. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. “Well, thank you.”

He bent forward in an elegant bow. “It is my pleasure, my lady.”

She kicked her shoes off, removed her socks and handed them to him. “Even the socks?”

He grinned. “Especially the socks.”

~ ~ ~

Amy finished buttoning up her dress and checked her reflection in the mirror hanging above the washbasin to tidy her hair.

Thankfully, she wasn’t nearly as sore as she’d been the previous evening when she got home from the livery, even though she’d been scrubbing stalls for most of the day again. At least she’d done all of them now. From now on all they’d need would be a light clean every day to keep them sparkling, which would give her more time to do other things to improve the building. She’d told George she could increase his profits and she’d meant it. She already had plans.

The sound of splashing water drifted up from the yard below her window as Adam washed her clothing. A smile crept onto her face as she thought about how he’d had everything ready for her return. She couldn’t begin to understand why he was doing all this for her. Allowing her to stay in his home was one thing, but all the rest? It was as if he truly cared for her, although why he should she had no idea. He had no reason to that she could see. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a warm glow at his eagerness to help her.

A warm glow
. She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror. She was beginning to feel like one of the ladies in Katherine’s beloved romance novels, with Adam as her handsome, dashing hero. The thought brought a soft laugh and a shake of her head. This wasn’t a romance, she wasn’t a heroine, and there would be no happily ever after, at least not the kind in the stories. Adam would make a convincing hero though, she knew that much. It would be a very lucky woman who finally won his heart.

Her eyes drifted to the top drawer of her dresser, as they did every time she was near. She shouldn’t read them. They would make her feel even more guilt than she already did. In addition, there was a good chance it would only make her like him more and she didn’t want to like him more. She was struggling to keep her feelings under control as it was.

But would they make it any more difficult than being here with him every day already did? She talked with him all the time, surely reading his words wouldn’t be any different.

Letting out a huff of frustration with herself, she opened the drawer and took out the small pile of envelopes. She carried them to the bed, sat down and spread them out on the cover in front of her.

The mystery of Adam’s letters had taunted her ever since she’d received the first one after answering his advertisement in the special insert in the paper from the Western Sunset Marriage Service. She had steadfastly avoided reading any of them, knowing that if she did, if she got any sense of the man she was planning to lie to and cheat into helping her get across the country, that her nerve might fail her. Instead, Katherine had read each one, telling Amy if he asked any questions, but never reading her his actual words. Amy had answered the letters without knowing exactly what it was she was responding to.

She’d wanted it like that, no contact at all. Nothing to endear her to him.

In truth she wasn’t at all certain why she’d brought them with her in the first place, but now her curiosity burned within her. What was in them? What had he said? How had he felt before meeting her?

Maybe she’d just read the first one for now, that was all.

She checked all the dates on the postmarks and arranged them into order, from the first one he had written to the last. Taking the top one from the pile, she studied the name and address on the envelope in Adam’s neat handwriting, touching it with her fingertips as if she could feel the strokes of his pen. Then she carefully slid the paper from inside.

Swallowing a flash of nerves, she began to read.

Dear Miss Watts,

Thank you for allowing me to correspond with you with a view to the possibility of matrimony. It was such a pleasure to receive your letter.

First, let me introduce myself. My name is Adam Emerson and I am 25 years old and live in a town called Green Hill Creek in northern California. I doubt you’ll have heard of it as it is small, but growing steadily.

I run the post office and have done for the past two years since my uncle nominated me to take over from him as postmaster when he became ill. It still seems new to me, but I am enjoying the work very much and have a good relationship with the people of the town. I also work mornings as a clerk at the bank. Between the two jobs, I am fully able to support a wife and, eventually, a family.

I am in good health, a little over six feet tall and have dark brown hair and blue eyes. My mother tells me I’m handsome, although I think mothers always say that of their sons! But I do not think I am unpleasant to look at.

I find I cannot describe what I wish for in a wife as far as appearance is concerned, because I think all women are beautiful in different ways. But what I do know is that I would like someone who first and foremost loves God. I accepted the Lord Jesus into my life when I was a child and I feel that only a woman who understands what that means could understand me. Other than that, I would like someone who laughs a lot. Someone who likes to have long conversations, but who also takes joy in simply having fun.  Someone who likes to be outdoors and enjoys the beauty of nature. I think what I want most is a companion who will stand with me through all of life’s challenges, so that we can support and take care of each other. And most of all, someone who I will love and who will love me in return.

I am very much looking forward to hearing from you and anything you would like to share about yourself.

Yours sincerely,

      Adam Emerson

Amy pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks. He sounded so full of anticipation, so hopeful. Not for the first time since she’d arrived, she wished things were different. Wished
she
was different.

Pushing aside the thought, she read the letter again. She couldn’t help smiling at how formal he sounded. Almost nervous. It wasn’t like him at all, and yet it was. She imagined him sitting down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper, planning what to say, writing it down, maybe discarding it and starting again, working on it until he was happy.

I do not think I am unpleasant to look at.

That part made her shake her head. Not unpleasant to look at was such an understatement when it came to Adam. She thought of his beautiful blue eyes and his handsome face, his dazzling smile and his tall, strong frame. As far as Amy was concerned, he was as far from unpleasant to look at as it was possible to be. He was perfect.

Sighing, she replaced the paper in the envelope and put the letters back into the drawer. Maybe she’d read the rest another day, when she was more emotionally stable than she apparently was tonight. Getting through them without crying would be a good start.

For now, she had to get downstairs and start dishing out the supper. The splashing had stopped and there was no way she would allow Adam to do anything else this evening. If he tried, he was going to have a fight on his hands.

Smiling at the thought, she wiped away the rest of her tears and headed for the stairs.

“Enjoy your hay.” Amy patted Stride’s shoulder and left him eating in his stall, the picture of contentment.

After three days at the livery bringing the horses in from the paddock was becoming her favourite part of the day, the only time she really got to interact with them. She also liked working alongside George. During the day he was usually either outside, doing repairs and maintenance or working with the horses.

In the stall next to Stride’s Clementine stopped eating and eyed Amy warily as she leaned her arms on top of the door. The nervous horse pressed herself into the farthest corner and pawed at the floor.

“It’s all right, girl,” Amy said, keeping her voice low. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The white horse stopped kicking up straw, but still looked like she wanted to bolt. Amy watched her for a few more seconds then backed away and walked to where George sat at his desk by the front doors. The front entrance was closed and a kerosene lamp on the desk cast a soft glow.

George’s lined face wore the worried frown working on the ledger always seemed to produce. Amy didn’t know what was in the leather-bound black book, but there was little doubt it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. She longed to help in some way.

There was a wide area beyond the desk in which barrels, sacks of feed and sundry other items were heaped haphazardly around each other. Movement caught her eye as a plump brown rat burst from behind a wooden box and dashed towards the open back doors.

Amy yelped, putting a hand to her racing heart. She was getting tired of being startled by the livery’s copious resident rodents.

“You need a cat in here.”

“Cats need feeding,” George said, not looking up from his ledger.

“They’d be eating rats and mice. Besides, I’m sure you’d save enough in what they’re stealing now to feed a cat or three. I swear I’ve never seen rats so fat. I’m surprised they can still run.”

A grunt was his only reply.

Amy studied the mess around him. “I think this area is wasted.”

George raised his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amy walked forward amongst the miscellaneous boxes and sacks. “Just, it’s kind of a mess and it’s the first thing people see when they come in.”

He looked around him. “I have to put it all somewhere.”

She picked up a rusting metal feeder that obviously hadn’t been used for some time.

“Maybe not that,” he said.

“But does it have to go here?” she said, putting the basket down and spreading her hands to encompass the whole area.

“It’s always been there.”

“But does it
have
to be?”

He scrunched up his face like agreeing with her was painful. “Maybe not. But if it wasn’t, where would I put the lot of it? And why would I want to move it anyway?”

Ideas were sparking to life. “You sell saddles and bridles and all the other horse stuff, but it’s all in that room where no one can see it.” She pointed towards the small room which adjoined the main building and housed a collection of horse related paraphernalia, some of which had been covered in thick dust before Amy cleaned it.

“If a person comes in wanting anything, I take them in there.”

“I know, but they have to
ask
. If you moved all this in there and moved all that out here and displayed it all nicely, someone who hasn’t necessarily come in here for that may see something and decide to buy it. But you need to have it where they can see it. This area is perfect.” She held her arms out to either side of her and faced him, smiling. “You could put hooks on the walls to hang saddles and have some shelves for the smaller items.”

He looked unconvinced. “You sound like Zach. He always has all these big ideas. But it sounds like a whole lot of work for nothing to me.”

“I’ve seen how shops do it in New York, the way they get people into the stores so they’ll buy things. It will work, I know it will.”

“This ain’t the big city, girl.” Frowning, he turned back to his ledger.

Amy picked her way to his side and sank to her knees, taking his hand in both of hers. He seemed startled at the contact, his eyes widening.

“Please, George, I know something’s wrong.”

A flash of anger crossed his face.

“I haven’t seen what’s in the ledger,” she said quickly, “but I see how worried you get when you work on it. I want to help. It won’t take much work and no money. I’ll even do it in my own time, if you like. I might need help moving some of it, but I can do the rest myself. Please let me do this. Please?”

She stared up at him, silently pleading with him to agree.

His expression softened, just a little. “I can’t decide if you’re the best worker I ever had, or the worst.”

She grinned. “Does that mean I can do it?”

He heaved a sigh. “I’ll probably regret this, but we can start on it tomorrow.”

She squeaked in excitement. “Thank you! It’ll be great, you’ll see.”

“Hmm.”