A Bride in Store (8 page)

So what if Axel wasn’t the prince of perfect choices? Which would be better? Doing the work she dreamed of with a less-than-stellar husband, or looking for some man to keep her who didn’t believe in her ambitions, who might even stomp on them?

And wouldn’t Axel be better than trying to make it out here alone with nothing?

“Kathleen!” Carl’s call was accompanied by a child’s whimpering, which quickly escalated into a full cry.

“I’m sorry.” Kathleen grimaced. “Gretchen woke up this morning with stomach problems, and Carl doesn’t handle illness well.”

Eliza forced herself not to guffaw at the understatement. “I know. He was there when William stitched my face.”

“I better go.” She pushed herself away from the table. “If you want to talk more, come by for dinner.”

Eliza scratched her temple. “Thanks for the offer, but Mrs. Lightfoot’s expecting me.”

Kathleen waddled off and looked back over her shoulder. “Feel free to come another time, then.”

Did she need to do any more talking? It’s not as if she’d ever expected a fairy-tale wedding. A mail-order bride was not a princess, and a struggling mercantile owner was not a prince. If only she could find the man and drag him home so she could decide whether he was worth the trouble of marrying before her stomach tied itself into any more knots.

Stepping out into the wind, she anchored her loose hair behind her ears to keep the locks out of her eyes and walked toward the Men’s Emporium, nodding at the few men who nodded to her. Clearly, a scarcity of women garnered her more male attention than she’d ever received back home.

Could she find someone here willing to court her if she jilted Axel? Considering the three smiles she was given after walking only a block, it seemed it wouldn’t be too hard. Lynville Tate definitely appeared interested. But if she married him, she’d be mucking stalls and milking cows, not running a store.

She blinked her eyes against the heat behind her eyelids before entering the Men’s Emporium, careful not to let the door slam shut with the wind. Customers filled the store’s aisles, and taking
a steadying breath, she looked around, hoping to find someone who didn’t appear to be a customer—her Axel.

They all seemed to be shopping, though, and William only raised his hand in greeting before returning his focus to a man who appeared to be arguing with him. Nobody seemed to need her help, so after the contentious man left, she trudged back to attend the sparse cashbox.

“Could you gather this for Mr. Carmichael?” William handed her a piece of paper. “He’s coming back in an hour.”

“I can. Has Axel . . . ?” She couldn’t say more for fear she’d give away the worry, frustration, and downright apprehension she had at meeting the man.

The door chimed, announcing another customer whose heavy tread thumped on the floorboards.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Langston,” William called.

Her heart stopped. Axel? She summoned up a smile and twirled toward the front.

His dark head had a lot of gray at the temples. Could he have lied about his age? Though his face was quite handsome, and he was certainly tall.

“Hello,” her voice squeaked.

Axel gave her a sideways glance and frowned.

She hadn’t beauty enough to make a man do cartwheels, but was she that disappointing? She reached up to touch her bandage but quickly dropped her hand, wiped her sweaty palm on her apron, and moved forward. “I’m Eliza.”

He gave her a scrutinizing look, as if trying to recall her from memory.

This did not bode well.

“Let me introduce Miss Cantrell.” William came up behind her and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. Surely he felt her nerves tightening every last muscle. “She’s working here.”

“Where’s Axel?” The older man looked past her, then to each side of the store.

Her knees turned to mush. Of course. William wouldn’t have greeted Axel so formally. A relative?

“We don’t know. I intended to stop by your house tonight to see if he was laid up there.” William turned to her. “Eliza, this is Axel’s father.”

She nodded. If his son inherited half this man’s good looks, she had nothing to worry about on that account. She tried to smile but couldn’t quite do so with his scowl directed at her. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Why’s that necessary?” He looked at her as if she were nothing more than a squashed bug, then turned his frighteningly direct gaze onto William. “How long’s Axel been gone?”

“Five days, sir.”

Mr. Langston cut his eyes at her. “And how long you been working here?”

Why was he interrogating them? “Three days. Did you come in for something I could help you find?”

The man stared at his ink-stained hands, then turned his glare back on William. “You hired her without Axel having his say?”

Did he not hear her name? “I’m Eliza Cantrell, sir.”

He turned a blank look at her.

William cleared his throat. “This is Axel’s mail-order bride. She came earlier than expected.”

Mr. Langston blinked. Twice. Then started to shake his head slowly. “Axel wouldn’t order no mail-order bride.”

She swallowed. Hadn’t Axel informed his parents about her? “I’m so sorry. I thought he would have mentioned my coming.”

“No.” His jaw worked hard. “My boy’d never do such a thing.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, trying not to shrivel like a piece of bacon in the hot, roiling stare he aimed at her forehead. What did he have against mail-order brides? Hadn’t Kathleen said he’d married one? And why hadn’t Axel informed his parents she was coming?

She did come six days earlier than planned, but surely Axel wasn’t planning to spring her on his family the day of their wedding. Especially since Mr. Langston didn’t seem to be taking the news well.

William squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe we should wait until Axel returns to discuss this further. Did you come in for something?”

Mr. Langston took his lethal stare off her and handed William a broken steel pen point. “I need another handful of these.”

William left to gather the pen points, leaving the two of them alone.

Her hands trembled as she smoothed her apron skirt. “I’m sorry I’m such a surprise.”

“Not a surprise—a blow straight to the gut is what it is.” He looked to the ceiling. “That boy ain’t got no brains.”

All right, maybe talking to him wouldn’t be beneficial. Though if she jilted Axel, she definitely had a supporter. “I have a love for business, sir. I grew up under my father’s tutelage, and Axel wanted help running the store. I’m not . . . I’m not worthless.”

“Right.” His jaw set like concrete, he looked over her shoulder. “Will’s got my tips.” He sidestepped her as if she were nothing but a pothole in his path.

She shivered in the wisp of air he left behind and fingered a flannel shirt dangling off a shelf’s ledge. For once, she had no desire to fold an item up nice and crisp and lay it perfectly atop the others in the stack.

She dropped the sleeve. It could hang there for now.

Or not. Snatching it off the shelf, she flicked the shirt out and started folding.

“What’s wrong with her face?” Mr. Langston’s voice was lowered, but not enough that she couldn’t hear.

“She came the day the train was robbed—”

“Well, that’s not a good sign.”

“Evidently, she held out on one of the thieves and he made her into an example.” William put the nibs and a bottle of ink in a small sack. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Worse?” He grunted. “Seems to me stubborn women usually get what they deserve.”

Stubborn? Would he rather she’d thanked the man for stealing her savings? She creased the shirt’s collar with more pressure than necessary.

William rolled the top of the sack and tallied the price.

Why didn’t he defend her? He’d seemed sympathetic. Or maybe he’d simply been pretending, knowing he’d have to work with her.

Mr. Langston swished around in his pocket for coins. “Put it on my account.” He scowled back at her for a second. “Heard the sheriff nabbed the train robbers this morning. Got some loot back.”

“Thanks for the information, Mr. Langston.” William handed Axel’s father his purchases. “Have a nice day.”

“We’ll see.” He clomped past her, but she kept right on folding.

Maybe there was a divine reason her fiancé had not been around when she arrived. Though she’d not really asked God what to do, was He warning her not to marry Axel through his father’s misgivings?

And if that was so, would He provide her with a way out of Salt Flatts? The sheriff having hauled the robbers in this morning might not be a coincidence. Maybe it was her train ticket home.

Chapter 6

The next day, Eliza quit an hour early so she’d be certain to catch the sheriff. She tried not to run, but yesterday the lawman’s doors had been locked after she’d left work.

If she chose not to marry Axel, she’d need money to fend for herself until she found work or figured out where to go.

Something wasn’t quite right. William seemed uncomfortable talking about Axel, Irena refused to tell her anything she knew, none of the townsfolk who’d learned of her impending marriage had congratulated her, and Axel’s father hadn’t even known about her.

The jailhouse door stood ajar, and she stopped to catch her breath before entering.

She stepped into the jailhouse and wrinkled her nose at the smell of unwashed bodies. A short man with a leer stared at her from the cell in the back, his hands hanging through the bars.

She quickly broke eye contact and headed for the lawman behind the desk. “Sheriff Quade?”

“Yes.” The older man with a long, well-groomed mustache looked up from his work and squinted. “Have I talked to you recently?”

She put a hand to her stitches, no longer covered with a bandage
but still painful, and quite itchy. “Yes, sir, the day one of those men backhanded me with a gun.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose you want your stuff back.” He sighed.

Didn’t everybody want to claim their things? “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but I really need—”

“No need to apologize.” He rubbed the top of his brow. “No one’s been happy with me today, and I’ve had to deal with
them
.” He jerked his thumb back at the cell.

Behind the short thief, a man with a long yellow-white beard slumped in a chair and leaned over to spit. The other criminal lay prone on a bunk with his hat over his head twiddling his thumbs. Thankfully, he seemed content not to look at her. He’d probably smile proudly at the damage he’d done to her face.

It looked like the sheriff had captured them all. “I’m Eliza Cantrell. Is there some process I have to go through to get my money?”

“No, ma’am, but you won’t get much unless we find their stash—and they haven’t been helpful in that regard.”

The short robber smashed his face between the bars. “I might be able to find you a few dollars iffen you want to come in and entertain us for a while.” His sloppy kissing noises ran cold chills up her torso, which bloomed into heat.

“Shut up, boy.” The sheriff glared toward the cell, but didn’t so much as move. His lips pursed sympathetically. “Sorry, can’t exactly hang ’em for running off at the mouth, nor expect manners from a bunch of reprobates.”

“Oh, I’ll be real sweet to her, Sheriff.”

Sheriff Quade stood and beckoned her outside, the front door shutting off the string of profanities hurled at her.

She put her cold hands against her cheeks.

“I should’ve known better than to let a lady come inside.” He pointed to a bench, and she sat. If only she were still wearing her bandage, her heated face would be at least partially hidden from sight.

Who’d have thought she’d want that horrid piece of cloth back on?

Sheriff Quade thumped his boot onto a crate and leaned over his knee. “The thing is, they didn’t have much money when we captured them. My deputies went back to look for a hideout that may or may not exist, but I don’t want you holding out hope.”

Her stomach sank low. “So I may be out of my money forever?”

“Highly likely, ma’am.”

“I’ve got nothing?” She couldn’t leave town if she had no money. As a last resort, she could write her brother, but he’d given her all she was due.

She definitely shouldn’t have told Zachary she’d be just fine without him. He was spiteful enough to make her eat her words.

“We recovered a little—what was on their persons when we caught them—so I can get you a percentage according to the claims made.” Without waiting for a nod from her, he slipped inside. His muffled command for silence only caused loud laughter.

She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly through her pursed lips. If she found a job right away, maybe Mrs. Lightfoot would let her stay a little while longer for nothing . . . but if she jilted Axel, would she be able to find a job in the town he’d grown up in? Would she even want to stay?

The door swung open again, and the sheriff handed her ten dollars. “That’s all I can give you.”

“That’s it?”

“As I said, we didn’t recover much, but tell me where you’re staying, and if we find anything, I’ll personally deliver any more that comes in.”

She slid the single bill from his grasp, turned her head away from his sympathetic brown eyes, and blinked back moisture. Ten dollars. She had no choice but to stay. “I’m residing at Mrs. Lightfoot’s.”

“Ah, yes. At least you can pay your board now.”

But not for next week and the week after that.

“If you can’t find me there, I’ll soon be . . .” She bit her lip. If she
did marry Axel, the sheriff would figure out her new living arrangements. “Well, you can inquire after me at the Men’s Emporium. I’m working there.” Working. Maybe she could convince William to pay her for helping at the Men’s Emporium. Though a week’s wages wouldn’t be enough to do much either.

“Interesting choice, but I’m glad you found work.” He tipped his hat. “I best get back.”

Eliza watched the sheriff disappear, then stared at the cash in her hand. All night she’d tossed and turned, anticipating getting her money, having the freedom to say no to Axel. But ten dollars instead of five hundred wouldn’t get her anywhere. She folded the bill until it was a tiny little square.