Mail Order Bride- Fall Read online

  The final consensus of the general population, at the end of the day: Far better Miss Letitia Burton find herself a husband, like any other self-respecting female, than to take up some profession which would only shun and scold her.

  Chapter Two

  “DREAMS,” MUTTERED LETITIA, in a tone that sounded distinctly disgusted.

  “What’s that, Letty?”

  “I said, dreams.”

  “Something wrong with dreams?”

  “Only if they’re your own, and they don’t conform to public opinion.”

  She was slumped tiredly at the Forresters’ kitchen table—the hub from which all familial social activity seemed to be generated—while Camellia, listening with only half an ear, stirred up the batter for her husband’s favorite chocolate cake. Letty, her medical studies progressing by leaps and bounds, had been asked by Dr. Havers to accompany him to an outlying ranch, where one of the farmhands had somehow gotten his arm stuck through by a pitchfork’s tines.

  “Durn fool,” Gabe, with Letty beside him in the surrey, had complained all the way out along the main dirt road. “Dunno how you’d do such a blockheaded thing to yourself, ’less you weren’t tendin’ right smart to business. It ain’t the piercin’ that’s the problem, mind you; it’s all the filth and muck that those tines were prob’ly swimmin’ in that could cause real trouble.”

  “Sepsis, you mean.”

  He had sent her a sideways look, pleased by her perception. “Darlin’, at the rate you’re goin’, I can soon let you take over my practice whilst I retire to the sunny south.”

  “Doctor,” she had reminded him with a smile, “you are in the sunny south.”

  “Huh. So I am. Well, all I can say is, the smartest thing those people did was to send for help, ’steada tryin’ to treat the damage themselves. It’s real tricky, dealin’ with infection, Miss Burton. You remember that.”

  Now here she sat, many exhaustive hours later, in what had become her uniform of full-length white apron—to cover her pretty dress—and fluffy white mob-cap—to cover her pretty hair—both presently spattered with some unidentifiable and disgusting splotches. Collapsed in a chair, while her compassionate sister cosseted her. That was fine; she could do with some cosseting.

  “Tough case?” Camellia asked, as she poured her mixture into a pan, already greased and floured, and set the whole thing inside a hot oven. She had learned, over the course of the past few months, that conversation with the aspiring student meant using medical jargon.

  Letty shivered. “Worrisome. The patient may lose his arm. And he’s but fourteen, Cam.”

  In response to a concerned question, she described in only casual detail the extent of the wounds (giving, with respect for her sister’s sensibilities, a much abridged edition), and the possibility of suppuration and poisoning despite the record amount of carbolic acid used as antiseptic.

  “His name is Willie O’Day, and Gabe brought him back with us, to the office, to ensure he follows orders about cleanliness.” She yawned. “I’m to rest a bit, then return to see what else needs to be done.”

  “Are you staying here, or are you going back to your own room at McKnight’s?”

  Another huge yawn. Eyes squinted until tears formed, and facial bones emitted a soft creak of protest. “I’ll just fall over, right here on your kitchen floor, Cam, if you let me.”

  Camellia, hauling out a basin of the potatoes she was about to peel, chuckled. “Even as tired as you are, Letty, dear, I doubt you’d find the floor very comfortable. Ben won’t be home for hours yet. You just take yourself on upstairs; the spare room is always made up fresh for visitors.”

  “Canny Cam.”

  “And the dreams?”

  She shrugged. “I do believe I’ll have to ignore the opinions of those who think they should be directing my life, and simply do my own directing.”

  “M’h’m. I’d say that’s the wisest course of action.”

  The medical office, designed and built per Gabriel’s fussy specifications some five years ago on a shady side street, contained everything necessary for professional curative care, and a surprising amount of space.

  One entered immediately into a reception area, whose walls were papered, whose plank floors stood covered with a large carpet, whose upholstered furniture was conducive to comfort. Directly to the left lay the consultation room, also papered, and bordered in wide rich dark trim. Here were the roll-top desk and castered chair, a spare single-wide iron bed and mattress, the examination table, the storage cabinet holding a multitude of small drawers (containing who knew what—potions to be mixed? medicaments to be dosed? herbs to be crushed and steeped?) and shelves upon which rested various pieces of equipment.

  At the back of the house one could find a small windowed chamber, available for use as a mini-hospital room, if you will, minus the horrifying connotations; and a spacious kitchen and dining area with all the accouterments. What occupied the second floor was anyone’s guess; those were the doctor’s private quarters, and no one had climbed the stairs to visit (or, if some particular lady had, on occasion, she wasn’t talking about it.).

  The patient, dosed with Gabriel’s favorite sleeping tonic / painkiller of laudanum, lay dead to the world upon his cot, segregated from the rest of the house, in the space designated for those requiring special care.

  When Letitia made her way there through the shadows of a sweet September afternoon, the doctor was taking a well-deserved nap in his office. She reached up to the top of the door and stilled the clapper of its bell before inching quietly inside.

  At the careful sound of her footsteps, Gabe raised a tousled head and bleary red-rimmed eyes from his desk.

  “You look terrible,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you get some sleep on the bed?”

  “Letty, honey, a scoldin’ is much more effective if it’s administered in normal speakin’ tones. No need to lower your voice; Willie boy is down for the count.”

  “Oh. Not likely to rouse for a while, you mean.”

  “Yep, that’s about it.” He yawned, scratched somewhere below the desk at an unseen itch, and yawned again. “Well, Miss Burton, I must compliment you on doin’ a fine job today. I would take my hat off, if I were wearin’ one. And I will admit to bein’ wrong.”

  “Wrong? You?” She almost snorted her derision.

  “Mark my words, b’cause it don’t happen often. But, over the past few months, you’ve proven that you do have a callin’ to the medical profession. I’d be proud to have you work with me whenever you get a chance.”

  Letitia beamed. “Oh, Gabe, thank you! You don’t know what it means to hear your praise!”

  The doctor’s eyes twinkled as he attempted to sit up straight—or lean back farther. “I sure do. Been in your shoes a time or two myself. Think I can persuade you to watch over our patient for a bit, whilst I go forage for some supper somewhere?”

  The old flimflammer. How well he understood the knack of sweetening with honey before presenting the medicine! She laughed. “Of course I can. But wash your face, first, before you go. And change your shirt; that one is disgusting.”

  Even as he disappeared to another room, to follow orders, he protested: “I’m a grown-up man, Letitia. Graduated from college ’n’ everything. You don’t haveta tell me what to do.”

  “Apparently someone does,” she murmured, low enough to ensure that she had the last word but that he couldn’t hear it.

  While he was gone, she would have time to think things over and decide how to break the news to her employer—and her mama hen of a sister—that she was engaged to be married.

  Chapter Three

  “YOU’RE WHAT?” GABRIEL roared.

  “Ssssh! Ssssh!” Letty implored, covering her ears. “You’ll disturb Willie with your shouting.”

  “No chance, that boy is deep in the arms of Morpheus and he ain’t stirrin’ till t’morrow noon. Now just what have you got—”

  “Marriage, Doctor. I’m getting ma
rried!” She all but stamped her foot in frustration.

  “Great gobs of mud, girl, can’t any of you Burtons go ’round the block a couplea times before havin’ to get hitched right away? How’s a man s’posed to get any of you in between husbands, when you’re so all-fired set—”

  “It’s what we had promised to do; it’s what we were expected to do!”

  “Expected?” Unable to sit still during such a contretemps, Gabe had been pacing back and forth in his office ever since Letitia, who hoped that telling the doctor would be slightly easier than telling her sister, had informed him of her impending nuptials. No such luck. “What, y’ mean this was predestined since birth, or somethin’?”

  From the frustration of fending off such a vehement rejoinder, she was now overcome by the discouraging urge to burst into tears. “We discussed the situation, we four girls, before we ever left St. Louis,” she explained, swallowing hard. “And it was decided that—”

  “Oh, you each made the decision? Cut your palms and swore a blood oath on y’all four gettin’ hitched, soon as possible, didja?”

  “You needn’t be sarcastic, Gabe. And I don’t see what business it is of yours, anyway. I was only trying to be considerate, by telling you first. Camellia doesn’t even know yet!”

  Silence, broken by the sudden creak of a windmill, several streets further on, as a night breeze blew through the blades, and young drugged Willie’s snores. Gabriel raised his eyes to heaven and counted slowly aloud. His supper of beef stew and biscuits had decided not to sit easily on his stomach, at being so informed of great changes about to come. Or perhaps it was the cheap rotgut they served at Sittin’ Eat, known more for their cuisine than their alcoholic beverages. And even that wasn’t much.

  Once he had reached the magic number of ten, and his complexion no longer resembled that of a raging bull’s, and the steam was done exploding from his ears, and his nostrils had stopped flaring, he plopped into his chair and extended a hand to her.

  “You’re right, my dear Miss Burton. Imagine that: twice in one day I’ve admitted to being wrong. At any rate, I do apologize. Now sit here, and tell me all about what’s going on. I assure you that I will listen to the end without comment.”

  “Well...” Mollified but still wary, Letty accepted his invitation and took a seat.

  Perhaps he wasn’t fully aware of the Burtons’ background, she began to explain. The four of them had been left nearly destitute, thanks to their father’s—um—improvident investments. They needed financial support, above and beyond whatever amount of cash the sale of their jewelry might engender, and they needed it quickly.

  “So we all decided that the best way to do that was to become mail order brides. Camellia started us off, by moving all of us down here and marrying Ben. And that’s been a success, hasn’t it?”

  “Stellar.” But not, Gabe knew, without some tears and temper and a lot of hard work. Of course, that’s true of any relationship, isn’t it? Which might have been part of the reason Gabriel Havers had remained a bachelor into his late twenties’. Thus far.

  “Then Molly, who has always been an impatient person, decided to take matters into her own hands, without advice or counsel. Well.” Letitia managed to look down her nose at those misguided efforts. “We see how that idea turned out.”

  In a surprising move, he reached over to take her hand. “But, Letty, dear, isn’t that exactly what you’ve just done?”

  Caught, she flushed a deep and becoming peony-pink. “Uh.”

  “Ahuh. Well, go on, then. Tell me what you’ve done.”

  She, along with the rest of Turnabout, had watched the cataclysmic mistakes of Molly’s hasty marriage, and then the heartening developments after. So it seemed that events would soon be satisfactorily settled for Burton Girl Number Two. Letty really felt that it was now her turn.

  “Much as I have enjoyed my medical studies, Gabe, much as I have appreciated working with you, I would like to feel safe and established in my own home, with my own husband. So I—ahem. Well, I put myself on the auction block.”

  “Advertised, you mean.”

  “Exactly. Almost immediately, in fact, once Molly told us about Quinn.”

  Hmmm. A bit of sisterly rivalry there? If she can do it, so can I...

  “And you have a taker,” Gabriel guessed, with a crooked smile, “since you’re finally willing to ’fess up. Naughty girl. So, c’mon, give.”

  His name was Reese Barclay, currently residing near Denver, and he was making his way here to Turnabout as they spoke. In fact, according to his travel plans, the man should be here any day now. He had enclosed no likeness of himself in the several letters she had received, but he had described his looks as fair-to-middlin’, with hair halfway between brown and buff, and eyes that speckledy color of a trout you see jumping out of a river into the sun.

  “A poet,” Gabe approved. The young fellow must have some experience with women, if he could put words together that might touch, then bind, a maiden’s susceptible heart.

  “He has some scars—I’m not sure where, but he wanted to warn me so I wouldn’t be shocked by his appearance.”

  “Any idea what he does for a livin’? How he’s gonna support you?”

  “He—uh—he didn’t go into great detail. I gather he has some experience in—in a great many fields...”

  The doctor’s thick brows twisted, as always when he was considering both sides of an issue being presented. “And your plan is to be married as soon as he gets here?”

  “Oh, no!” Letitia’s spine straightened and her chin went up. “Not at all. We’ve both agreed to try each other on, first, before any decision is made.”

  “Letty. What does that mean, to try each other on?”

  Her hand, freed from his, described an aimless circle in the air. “Well...get to know one another. Courtship. Romantic walks in the moonlight. Dinners together. Talking. You know.”

  No, Gabriel didn’t exactly know. His sigh expressed the regret he occasionally felt for having missed out on that part of life. There were certainly times when he would have appreciated being blessed with a loving companion by his side, for support and compassion and sharing. Now, with this discussion of a potential wedding in the future, was one of them.

  She was following in her youngest sister’s footsteps, all right. Molly had demanded exactly the same considerations of Paul (who was besotted enough to agree to every one of them). Or perhaps it wasn’t just these two. Perhaps it was most females, everywhere. He wanted to think about that.

  “So you’ll have a trial betrothal, if I’m hearin’ you right. And he’s agreed to this?”

  She nodded.

  “He has no problem uprooting himself from wherever—Denver, you said—he’s settled?”

  “Apparently not, since he agreed to that, as well. In one of his letters, he called himself a rolling stone that gathers no moss.”

  “A vagabond, then, not puttin’ down roots anywhere. Oh, Letty, Letty.” Shaking his head, he reached for the bottle of rotgut he kept hidden in a bottom desk drawer. “Have you learned nothin’ from Molly’s sad experience?”

  Again that precocious triangular chin raised up. “Well, I hope I’m not such a fool as to simply accept whatever he tells me. Once he arrives here, and I’ve introduced him around, I intend to ask Paul to find out what he can about this man who plans to take part in my life. After all, the sheriff is almost a member of my family, isn’t he? He should be delighted to save me from the disgrace Molly fell into.”

  Ahuh. Definitely a sisterly rivalry. He wondered if the two had shared a single room at Mrs. McKnight’s boarding house, and how they had gotten along. Any knock-down, drag-out cat fights?

  “And meanwhile?”

  “Meanwhile, what? You mean here?” The remarkable moonstone blue eyes flashed with independence and humor. “Oh, I intend to keep working with you, if you’ll have me. Marriage won’t interfere with what I hope to accomplish. And I am a help to you, Gabe, am I n
ot?”

  “You are, most assuredly, a great help to me, my dear,” he could promise her warmly and sincerely. “And you’ve not mentioned a word of this yet to Camellia?”

  The long black lashes swept down. As forceful a protest as the doctor had just bellowed forth, she knew that her sister’s would, most likely, be more so. Doubled, in fact, by Ben.

  “Well, honey, I’m honored by your confidence, I truly am. Your secret is safe with me until you decide to spill the beans. And I’ll back you up, any way I can.”

  “Thank you, Gabe. I knew I could count on you.” Rising with her usual graceful elegance, Letitia gathered up her things. “I checked on Willie, just before you returned, and he’s still sleeping soundly. No sign of fever or distress.”

  “Good girl. Then I reckon it’s time for you to skedaddle on home. C’mon, and I’ll walk you back.”

  Letitia had bravely crossed one Rubicon. There was still another crossing to come.

  Chapter Four

  “YOU’VE GONE AND DONE what?” The words, so similar to Gabe’s, came out in a baffled roar exactly like his.

  Letty sighed. She had stopped by her sister’s house just at dinnertime, with a fresh apple pie from the bakery for sweetening, and joined in the convivial conversation around the table. They touched on Ben’s plan to take himself and his wife over to Manifest next week, with the hope of finally getting his second store up and running. They discussed the welcome fact that Turnabout’s Lumber Mill, on the very outskirts of town, was hiring a couple more day laborers. They conferred about the increasing intensity of Paul and Molly’s romance, and what a delight it was to see both of them so happy, and wondered how soon anyone might expect a wedding date to be set.