Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Turner (3 page)

“One more reason ya need a wife, brother. Never have I seen such a mess.” She shook her head in pity. “It’s a good thing Ma ain’t here to see this.”

Eli sighed and nodded. Unable to farm anymore due to their age, their parents had moved to Oregon City the year before, leaving the farm to Tom and Rose. Of course, with Tom being sheriff there wasn’t much farming going on, so he’d leased the land to Harvey Brown and sent the money to his parents. The arrangement worked for all involved, especially now. “She’d prob’ly box my ears.” he said.

“Don’t think I won’t!” Emeline huffed. “It’s a good thing Anson or his brothers ain’t been by. You know how particular Oscar is.”

Eli laughed. His sister had married Anson White, the youngest of the White brothers who ran the stage stop halfway between Clear Creek and Oregon City. Anson was a wonderful man, and Eli and Tom couldn’t be happier he’d married their sister. His brothers, on the other hand, were a little odd, but they loved them and considered them part of the family.

Oscar, however, could be pretty persnickety when it came to disorganization. He liked everything in its place and for things to be neat and orderly. “Your brother-in-law’d prob’ly wanna hang me,” he said with a grin.

“It ain’t funny,” she shot back. “He’d likely faint first.”

Eli laughed louder. “I gotta get to work, Emeline. I’m sorry the place is such a mess. I guess I’m gonna have to mend my ways when it comes to straightening things up.”

“That’ll mainly be yer wife’s job. But ya don’t wanna frighten her away as soon as she gets here, do ya?”

“No, I guess not.” He grabbed his hat off a peg and put it on. “I ‘spect Fina and Lena’ll be by any time to help. I ain’t sure when Rose is comin’. Good luck.”

His sister glanced around the small cabin. “Thanks, we’re gonna need it.”

Eli went outside and mounted his horse. He was suddenly glad he had neighbors like Lena Adams and Fina Stone, not to mention a good family. It would make his new bride happy to have friends and acquaintances nearby. He’d purchased the small piece of land from Fina’s husband Levi several years ago, so his cabin sat in between the Stones’ and the Adams’.

Lena and Fina and their sister Apple (who was married to Brandon O’Hare) were cousins of the Cookes who’d come to Clear Creek as mail-order brides late in the summer of 1861, all the way from England. They weren’t the only ones – three of their other female cousins had arrived just over two months before to get married too. It was all the doing of Harrison and Colin Cooke’s older brother Duncan, who’d inherited an honest-to-God English duchy in ‘59.

Eli was only a boy at the time, and couldn’t have cared less about such things. For a while, he kept calling Duncan Cooke a duck instead of a duke – it took him years to get that straight. He laughed out loud to himself as he kicked his horse into a trot and headed to work.

When he got there, Tom was hanging up wanted posters on the wall. “Howdy, little brother. Is the cleaning cavalry at yer house?”

Eli looked pained. “Yep – and their captain, our lovely sister, wasn’t too happy with it.”

Tom turned to look at him. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse, accordin’ to her.”

Tom laughed. “That’ll teach ya to straighten up. Emeline won’t let ya forget neither. Ya better hope yer wife ain’t nothin’ like her – or Oscar.”

“Emeline said somethin’ like that too. Maybe I shoulda had
him
come over and clean. Least then it’d only be one person on my back.”

Tom tacked the last poster on the wall then sat at his desk. “One look at yer place might give poor Oscar a heart attack. Then what would his wife do?”

“I count it a blessin’ they live at the stage stop and not in Clear Creek. Seein’ as how they just come for visits, I think I’m safe. I don’t expect em’ again for a while.”

“No, but one of us may have to ride out to their place and check on things.” He pointed toward the three new wanted posters behind him.

“What for?” Eli grabbed a chair, brought it to the desk and sat.

Tom turned. “‘Cause of that fella, the one with the bushy beard. Goes by the name of ‘Lizard’ Grunsky.”

“Lizard? What kinda name is that?”

Tom smiled. “Oh, that ain’t nothin’. His two friends on the wall next to him go by ‘Snake’ and ‘Frog’.”

Eli grimaced. “Can’t these outlaws come up with better nicknames than that? Maybe they ought to talk to Cutty and Imogene. At least they name their villains somethin’ decent.”

Tom laughed. “That’s ‘cause Cutty and Imogene are the creative type. Ya read their latest?”

“Nah, is it out already?”

Tom turned to his desk drawer, pulled out a dime novel and shoved it across to him. Imogene Sayer, cousin to Lena, Fina and Apple, had married Cutty Holmes, another distant cousin of the Cookes. Together they penned adventure stories under the name ‘C. I. Sayer.’ They were growing in popularity, too, and now had a publisher in San Francisco that wanted to compile their stories into a large book. “I read it last night. It’s their best yet.”

Eli smiled as he picked up the small book and flipped through the pages. “I’ll read it later.” He looked at Tom. “Ya know I cain’t go out to the Whites’, not with my bride comin’ to town Friday. I ain’t got the time.”

“I know – that’s why I’m sendin’ Bran. Willie thought he saw some men camped near the road between here and the Whites’ a few days ago when he drove the stage through. Best to warn ‘em in case there’s any trouble nearby.”

Eli nodded his agreement. Trouble. First a new bride, and now this. What trouble, he wondered, would Friday bring?

“
C
lear Creek
! Comin’ inna Clear Creek!” Willie the stage driver yelled as they pulled into the tiny town. The only reason Pleasant knew his name was that he’d introduced himself to everyone at the previous stage stop whether they were heading to Clear Creek or not. Lanky of build, a little shy and missing his two front teeth, he was the most personable driver she’d ever met.

And to be honest, she was traveling alone, and knowing the fellow’s name put her more at ease. Maybe that was the point of his introductions – either that, or he really was a friendly sort.

Willie brought the stage to a stop in front of a two-story building with a huge sign on the front: “DUNNIGAN’S MERCANTILE”. It was a pretty place, with two huge windows on either side of the windowed double doors. It would be light and bright inside, something she liked. She wondered what sort of goods they sold – would they have anything like what she’d find in a store in the South, or would there be nothing at all?

That pointed to a larger question: just how wild was this “Wild West” she’d heard about? All she knew was what she’d gleaned from the dime novels Darcy and Michael read and talked about all the time. Silly boys – they’d even managed to suck Benedict and Matt into them. She abhorred them and had never read one herself, figuring they were all a bunch of nonsense. But … were they?

The stage door opened to Willie’s wide grin. She did her best not to giggle at his missing teeth and took the hand he offered. She was here and that was all that mattered. She would now survive, albeit as the wife of a stranger. But she had convinced herself during her long journey that she would make the same decision no matter what, because she simply could not marry Rupert! The die was cast.

Pleasant disembarked and glanced around as Willie climbed back onto the stage to retrieve her trunk and satchel. She’d brought only the bare necessities – for a well-bred Southern belle, traveling with one trunk and one satchel was horrifyingly sparse indeed. But, she was determined she would manage.

The doors to the mercantile opened, drawing her attention. An older man with white hair and mustache and wearing an apron emerged onto the porch, hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and smiled. “Howdy,” he called out to her. “You must be Eli Turner’s mail-order bride.”

She nodded. “You are correct, sir,” she said politely. She glanced this way and that. This appeared to be the main street of the town – and perhaps the only street. Only time would tell about that. “May I inquire as to where Mr. Turner is at present?”

The man smiled again. “Hain’t the slightest idea, ma’am. But you’re welcome to come inside and wait for him.”

Pleasant’s back went rigid. Here she’d traveled all this way, and her groom didn’t even have the decency to meet her? “I hope he has a good excuse,” she muttered to herself.

Willie carried her trunk up the porch steps and set it down next to the older gentleman. “Howdy, Wilfred!” he greeted. “Looks like Eli done got hisself a right purty bride, don’t he? She talks purty too.”

Wilfred looked her up and down as she ascended the mercantile steps. “He sure did. About time we had another wedding around here – it’s been awhile.”

“Yer right ‘bout that,” Willie agreed.

Pleasant was starting to get irritated. “If you two gentlemen are done discussing my nuptials, could you please tell me where Mr. Turner is?”

“Done already told you,” Wilfred said. “Come inside and have a licorice whip while you wait. Maybe a cup of tea?”

Pleasant smiled. Did he just offer her tea? Perhaps they hadn’t meant to be rude, talking about her as if she hadn’t been there. Hopefully the whole town was at least this friendly. “Thank you, I’d like a cup of tea.”

“Right this way, miss.” Wilfred turned around and opened the door for her. Pleasant lifted her skirts and entered the building.

It was just as charming inside as out, and more bright and airy than she’d expected. The high ceiling and white interior lifted her spirits, and the many-colored goods lining the shelves helped. She’d seen so many dark, dreary places on her journey that she’d despaired of seeing beauty again. At least inside – some of the countryside was spectacular, but she wasn’t going to live on a mountain peak next to a giant pine, was she?

A stocky woman with salt-and-pepper hair came out from behind a curtained doorway and waddled behind the front counter. “Wilfred, what are you doing?” she barked. “We have inventory!”

“Yes, Irene, I know.” He turned to Pleasant. “But first I’d like to introduce you to Eli’s future bride.”

The woman squinted, then reached into her apron pocket, pulled out a pair of spectacles and put them on. “Oh. I see.”

Pleasant tried not to smile. Obviously the woman couldn’t manage without them. “How do you do?” she replied with a curtsy.

“Land sakes, a foreigner!” the woman barked.

“She ain’t no furriner, Mrs. Dunnigan,” said Willie. “But she did come all the way from Coloradah.”

“Colorado? I had no idea they talked like that there,” Mrs. Dunnigan studied Pleasant.

“I traveled from Colorado,” Pleasant informed them. “But I hail from Savannah, Georgia.”

“Georgia?” Wilfred said. “Oh, that ain’t that far. We got folks around here from a lot further away than that!”

Pleasant arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Wilfred went to the counter. “Irene, get this woman a licorice whip while I run upstairs and fetch her a cup of tea.”

“Tea?” the woman barked. “What does she need tea for? Where’s Eli?”

Wilfred shrugged. “Working.”

“Working? The day his bride comes to town? What kind of an imbecile is he?”

Pleasant couldn’t hide her smile. She was beginning to like this woman despite her crassness. Between her attitude and her accent, Irene Dunnigan reminded her of certain matrons back home – tough women who’d kept their families together and fed through the war through sheer stubbornness.

Wilfred whispered into Irene’s ear, and her eyes went wide. “Oh. I see. Well then.”

“Is there something I should know?” Pleasant asked.

“No!” Irene barked. “Come here and get your candy!”

Pleasant’s feet were moving before she had time to think. Yes, clearly this woman was used to being in command. A few more generals like her, and maybe the South would’ve won. She looked at Wilfred. “I take it you’re Mr. Dunnigan?”

“Yes, ma’am – all my life.”

Irene – Wilfred’s wife, presumably – smacked him on the arm. “Wilfred, get the woman her tea!” He smiled good-naturedly, turned on his heel and disappeared behind the curtained doorway.

Pleasant listened as he hurried up a set of unseen stairs that must lead to their living quarters above, then turned back to Mrs. Dunnigan. “Is something wrong with Mr. Turner?”

Mrs. Dunnigan stuffed a few pieces of candy into a little white paper bag. “No, but he’s taking care of official business. Never bother a lawman when he’s on duty – that’s something you’d best learn now if you’re gonna marry the man.”

Pleasant gulped before she could stop herself. “Are there … many outlaws around here?”

“Plenty lately. It’s getting so a person can’t travel across the prairie anymore by themselves. Blasted curs are bad for business!” She tossed in the last piece, twisted the bag shut and handed it to her. “Here!”

Pleasant jumped at her loud voice, reached out and took it. She’d never allowed anyone to speak to her in such a manner back home. But she wasn’t back home. This was where she would live now, and she had to get used to these people and their ways.

Mr. Dunnigan came downstairs and emerged through the curtained doorway, a cup of tea in his hands. “Here ya go, Miss … I don’t think we caught your name.”

“My apologies - I forgot to give it. I’m Miss Comfort.”

The Dunnigans exchanged a quick glance. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Dunnigan said. “You can sit in here as long as you like. There’s a table and chairs over by the window.”

Pleasant turned and, sure enough, there was a lovely little table and two chairs. “What a nice spot.” She turned to Mrs. Dunnigan. “Do you take tea there?”

“Nope,” Mrs. Dunnigan informed her with a scowl. “That’s the men’s checker table.”

“Oh,” Pleasant walked over to it. A checkerboard had been painted onto its surface. “So it is.” She set down her teacup then studied the mercantile. “Is this the only store in town?”

“Of course it is!” Mrs. Dunnigan snapped. “You don’t think this town is big enough for two, do you?”

“Now, Irene, how could she know?” Wilfred countered. “She just got here.”

Pleasant gave them a half-smile. “How many people live in Clear Creek?” She was almost afraid of the answer.

“Let’s see,” Wilfred mused. “Must be close to a hundred by now. Town’s been growing by leaps and bounds the last twelve years or so on account of all the younguns folks keep having.”

“You mean children?” Pleasant asked.

“That’s what he said, isn’t it?” his wife barked.

Pleasant gave a slow nod. “Of course. How silly of me.” Egads, was Mrs. Dunnigan offended by everything?

Before she could think about it further, the doors opened to two extremely handsome men, much older than her - both had a touch of grey at the temples. Otherwise, one had sable-brown hair and dark eyes; the other a dark blonde, his eyes hazel. Despite those differences, they had similar enough features to clearly be related.

“Wilfred,” the dark-haired one called in – could it be? –
a British accent
. Then he smiled at Pleasant. “We’ve come for the young lady.”

Pleasant stood. They made her sound like a package they were picking up. “You’ve what?”

The other one approached and bowed. “Colin Cooke, at your service, ma’am. This is my brother Harrison. Mr. Turner has sent us to fetch you for him.”

“Fetch me? Where is Mr. Turner?”

The two men exchanged a look. “He is … otherwise engaged at the moment,” Harrison said. “Allow us to escort you to the hotel – or if you prefer, you may dine with us at the Triple-C and we’ll deliver you to the hotel later this evening.”

Pleasant stared at them, not knowing what to think. What in heaven’s name did
otherwise engaged
entail? “I demand to know where Mr. Turner is.”

Another look exchanged. “Perhaps it would be better if he told you himself once he returns to town,” Colin said.

Pleasant shook herself. Obviously they were not going to be forthcoming. “Mr. Turner aside, may I inquire as to where you are from, sirs?”

“Sussex, England originally,” said Harrison.

“And most recently, Mulligan’s Saloon,” Colin added cheerfully. Harrison rolled his eyes.

Pleasant was tempted to do the same. “Am I to understand that you two gentlemen have been drinking?”

“No, nothing of the kind,” Harrison assured her. “We were helping Mr. Mulligan fix his back porch steps. We saw he needed some help, so we pitched in.”

Pleasant took a deep breath. “Forgive me for insinuating that …”

“Not at all,” Colin replied. “A perfectly reasonable assumption, Miss …?”

“Comfort.”

The two smiled at each other. “Miss Comfort, the hotel or the ranch?” Harrison asked. “Which would you prefer?”

“The ranch of course!” Mrs. Dunnigan barked. “How would you like to be in a strange place sitting up in a hotel room with no one to talk to?”

“Well said,” Colin agreed. “The ranch it is.”

“But … I don’t think …” Pleasant began.

“Nonsense,” Harrison said. “You’ll love meeting our wives, and they love regaling people with tales of … well, hopefully they’ll contain themselves.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want them scaring you on your first day in town,” Colin quipped as he offered her his arm. “Shall we, then?”

She couldn’t argue with their manners, but … “What about Mr. Turner?”

“He’ll be along as soon as he and his brother, the sheriff, lock up the current crew of miscreants,” Colin said cheerfully.

“Outlaws?!”

“Now, now – you’ve naught to worry about,” Harrison consoled, then winked at Wilfred.

The older man’s eyes popped. He went behind the counter, produced a shotgun and cocked it, then nodded back.

Pleasant felt as if she might faint. “What’s going on?”

“As my brother said, there’s no need to worry. Your future husband is a crack shot.”

“Crack shot?” she squeaked. “What’s he shooting at?”

“The outlaws, of course,” Harrison answered. “Now let’s be on our way, shall we?”

A loud bang caught everyone’s attention. They turned to the counter where Mrs. Dunnigan had produced a hatchet and banged it on the counter. “Good heavens!” Pleasant yelped in alarm.

“No dirty outlaw is gonna come in here and steal any of our goods!” Mrs. Dunnigan huffed.

Pleasant, a hand to her chest, stared at the older couple now ready for action. What kind of a town was this? Was the outlaw problem really that bad? And what about Mr. Turner? Would there even
be
a Mr. Turner when the night was done?

“I say Miss Comfort, you’re not looking very well,” Colin said with concern. “The sooner we get you to the ranch the better, I think.”

“B-b-b-but is it safe?” she asked. “If there are outlaws running around, how are we to get to your ranch?”

“Not to worry,” Harrison said. “All the shooting is at least several miles in the opposite direction of our place.”

“Shooting!” she gasped. “As in, they’re shooting at
each other
?”

“Of course,” Colin quipped as he reached for her trunk. “If an outlaw were to shoot at me, I’d most certainly shoot back. And I have.”

Pleasant felt her knees go weak. “Please be so kind as to get me out of this town.”

“Certainly,” Harrison said and deftly snatched up her satchel. He tipped his hat to the Dunnigans, who still stood behind the counter, armed and ready. “Wilfred, Irene. Good day to you.”

Mrs. Dunnigan banged her hatchet on the counter again. “And to you!”

Pleasant cringed as she was escorted out the double doors of the mercantile and into the street. With a man on either side of her, she felt more a prisoner. It made her nervous and she picked up her pace.