A Bride at Last (32 page)

She crossed her arms. Wasn’t that the name of the man Silas told her to stay clear of? “You know of someone hiring?”

“I know you’ve had difficulty finding a job since Silas hasn’t made good on his promise to marry you.”

Instead of her body flushing, she suddenly grew colder. Why couldn’t this town keep sensitive information to itself? “Yes, but . . .” Did she really want to expand on her situation? “So do you know of an open position?”

His gaze took in the top of her head, moved down, lingered where it shouldn’t, and hit the bottom of her feet before he looked her in the eyes again.

She hugged herself tighter and searched the street for a familiar face.

He rubbed his scruffy jawline. “I figured I could use a woman about my place.”

“
A woman
?” The iciness that had resided in her limbs melted with the uptick of her heart. Did he really think such a proposal would be enticing? “I do not need a position as your woman.”

“Now, hold up, sister.” He crammed his hat onto his dirty blond hair. “You might not like how I said it, but I’ve got as much to offer as any other man around here. Maybe more.” He leaned over to spit. “And if you’re so uppity you won’t consider marrying, I could just hire you as my cook.”

“Cook?” She bit her lip. If she couldn’t find a job, would cooking for this man be a bad idea? Working for a rake would be leagues better than seeing him at Mrs. Star’s. Not that she’d ever work for Mrs. Star, but cooking was better than nothing.

“I’d pay you a dollar a day for three meals.”

That’s about what she’d made teaching.

“The problem is, I live two hours out of town. I doubt you could afford to pay for a horse along with a place to stay, so if you stayed with me—”

She took a step away. This was definitely the man Silas had warned her away from. “So you’re offering me a job I can’t take without ruining my reputation? And somehow you think that’ll make me reconsider becoming your ‘woman’?”

His upper lip curled. “Marrying me ain’t that bad of a deal. You can even keep the thirty dollars you’d earn working for me each month. I know men who give their women allowances. Thirty’s generous.”

He’d pay for a wife? Silas jilting her looked rosy in comparison.

She jammed her hands onto her hips. “No thank you, Mr. Parker. Don’t bother asking me again.”

“I don’t think you understand how you ain’t gonna get many offers for work.” He stepped closer—the smell of hair cream and a hint of alcohol invaded her nostrils. “Your best bet is marrying, and since Silas ain’t gonna do it, who else is going to—”

“Mrs. Crismon!” She hollered and waved to the older woman thankfully walking out of the tailor’s across the street. “Excuse me. I’m to meet up with her.” Without bothering to give Ned a last glance, she skirted him and did her best not to run across Main.

“What’s going on, Miss Dawson?” Mrs. Crismon, the gray-haired school board member she’d practically begged for a teaching position, frowned over Kate’s shoulder, then back at her.

“I was getting thread for Fannie when Mr. Parker offered me, uh . . . a position.” She grimaced at the thought of expanding on what that entailed.

“I hope you said no.” Mrs. Crismon shot a right-frightening glare across the street.

“Yes.” She gulped and took a calming breath. “You were a good excuse to leave him. I hope you don’t mind me walking with you to the boardinghouse.”

“Of course not, dear.” Mrs. Crismon took her elbow, laying a comforting hand on her arm. They strolled down the block before Kate had the nerve to look behind her.

“He’s slunk off.” She let out a long exhale.

The women walked in companionable silence toward the boardinghouse. She’d hoped to have gotten back to Fannie’s before the quilting women arrived so she could hole up in her room, but now that Mrs. Crismon knew she was available, sequestering herself would only invite them to talk about her in quiet, pitying tones.

So once they reached the boardinghouse, Kate set out the snacks Fannie had prepared as the women came in.

She was soon sitting behind her quilt block as small talk floated gaily around her. Her stitches from last week had veered to the left. Should she pull the thread or wander back to the middle? She rolled her needle between her fingers.

Starting a business that dealt with any kind of sewing should be stricken off her list—that was certain.

“Are you all right, Kate?” Fannie held up a kettle. “Do you want tea?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want to talk about something? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Nancy’s lips plumped with worry.

Nancy, Fannie, Rachel, and Mrs. Crismon stared at her from around the quilt. She’d rather curl up in a ball than admit in front of near strangers how much trouble she was in, but then, they might be able to help her figure out what to do.

Because she was definitely in trouble.

“I need to find someone in town desperate enough—or maybe generous enough—to let me stay with them in exchange for being a housemaid. I’m not looking for wages anymore, just a bed.”

Mrs. Crismon—who sat on the edge of the divan with the posture of a queen—threw a glare at Fannie.

Kate shot an apologetic glance toward her hostess. “Mrs. Langston has been kind to let me stay without being assured of payment. However, she’s turning away boarders because of me, so I need to find other accommodations for her sake as well as mine.”

“I wish I could afford another maid.” Fannie frowned and poured Mrs. Crismon tea. “But my two are good workers—it’d be unfair to fire them. And I’ve already got a cook.”

Mrs. Crismon pointed her needle at Kate. “Did you put up an advertisement at the mercantile?”

Kate nodded.

“The post office?”

“I—”

“I’m afraid my husband isn’t being helpful there.” Fannie apologized for cutting Kate off, then sighed. “I’ve heard Jedidiah’s warning people away from her when he catches them reading her advertisement—says mail-order brides are as unreliable as they come.”

“I’d like to knock some sense into him.” Mrs. Crismon’s shoulders shimmied with indignation.

“Me too,” Fannie muttered.

Mrs. Crismon crossed her arms and continued, “Your Mr. Langston and that dreadful Mr. Parker and all the others stewing in the post office, talking badly about spinsters and old maids and single young ladies . . . Well, I haven’t seen anybody near as bad as they are since I was in California with my daughter, who was giving birth to her fifth. That Bachelor’s Club of Grass Valley was just about as vindictive.”

Fannie’s shoulders slumped. “If it hadn’t been for me—”

“Nonsense.” Rachel interrupted. “You made a mistake more than twenty years ago, from which you repented, and since then you were a good mother and a good wife. You’re not at fault for Jedidiah choosing to baste himself in his own bitter juices.” She tied off her thread and reached for another spool. “Maybe the proprietress at the millinery might have a job. Have you tried her for work, Kate?”

“Yes.” Who hadn’t she tried?

“Did you talk to my daughter-in-law, Eliza? She could find a position for a woman even if there weren’t any to be had.”

“I did.” Kate swallowed against the warmth creeping into her throat and reaching up to heat her eyes. Eliza had given her a whole list of people to ask after, but the second she’d given her name, many of them cocked their head with suspicion. At least now she knew why her name had caused such a bad reaction with some of them. It appeared that Mr. Langston had been talking her down something fierce.

“Have you talked to Silas recently?” Nancy threaded her needle with a long, brilliant piece of indigo. “Maybe he’s got his head back on straight.”

“I asked him for work or money until I found a position. He said he didn’t have enough—”

“Like you do.” Mrs. Crismon scowled.

She pressed her lips firmly together. As much as she wanted to lash out at him herself, she didn’t want the ladies to think terribly of him. “He’s looking for somewhere for me to stay and paid Fannie for the week.”

“He needs to be taken down a notch, considering how he jilted you.” Mrs. Crismon placed her empty teacup on her saucer with a clank. “Perhaps if his name was sullied like yours is by the men at the post office —”

“Oh no, I don’t want to destroy him.” She swallowed hard. “He’s a good man. He’s just—”

“Wounded?” Rachel reached over and clasped her hand. “He’s made a lot of mistakes—and he’ll admit it—but underneath it all, he’s afraid, not malevolent, right?”

Kate nodded. “He thinks he’s doing what’s best.”

“What’s best is giving that boy a mother and living up to his word.” Mrs. Crismon clucked her tongue as if admonishing Rachel and Kate for letting him off. Then she straightened and snapped her fingers, her face alight. “You should sue.”

“What?” Fannie and Kate chimed together.

“Sue?” Nancy scoffed. “What could she sue for?”

“In ’81, I think, one of the members of that Bachelor Club I was talking about ordered a mail-order bride. But as soon as she came, they talked him out of it. So he refused to marry her. She was a smart one, though—sued him for breach of contract and won two thousand dollars, if I remember right.”

Kate’s mouth slowly dropped open. She’d never had that much money in her life. “But I’m not a mail-order bride.” Not this time at least. “I don’t have a contract with him.”

“Verbal contract, honey. I’m sure you wouldn’t have spent your every dime coming to Kansas unless you had a promise of some sort.” She frowned. “You did have a promise from him, right?”

She licked her lips and thought back. His kiss was almost all she could remember about his proposal. “He said if I came there’d be a wedding, the best he could afford.”

“Ha! That’s a promise if I ever heard one.” Mrs. Crismon snipped her thread with enthusiasm.

Rachel fidgeted as if her seat were made of upended nails.

Kate’s hands trembled. Could she sue Silas? He’d promised her a wedding, and she wouldn’t have come unless he had. But how could she take his money when she’d be taking from Anthony as well? “No, I wouldn’t do that to him or Anthony.”

“Can you go home?” Nancy questioned softly.

“I wrote my sister.” She shrugged. “But I’ve not heard from her yet.”

“If you’re looking for a bed, well, I don’t have an extra bed, but I’ve had visitors stay overnight in my barn.” Rachel shrugged. “Never had them sleep there through the winter, though—not sure it would be pleasant.”

“Thanks. If I truly can’t find anything, I might have no choice, but I’m hoping to remain in town so I can visit with Anthony.” She’d be nothing but a burden to the Stantons, since they had plenty of children to do chores. “But if I wasn’t able to earn money or be near Silas, I’m not sure what good it would do me.”

Rachel folded her hands in her lap, her quilt block forgotten. “You’d rather work things out with Silas than go elsewhere.” She said that with more conviction than Kate could’ve mustered.

She nodded and kept her eyes off the others, in case they were pitying her for wanting to reconcile with him. But it was true. She wasn’t ready to give him up. Finding a job would only free her up from taking advantage of Fannie’s good graces. She’d still be praying for Silas to change his mind . . . unless he held out so long she changed hers first.

“Then what about some good old-fashioned courting?”

She shook her head as she let out a sad chuff. “We didn’t do any of that in the first place, so—”

“Exactly.” Rachel patted her legs. “Force him to spend time with you . . . in a manner he can’t resist. Sort of like my husband did with me. Though he wasn’t officially courting me, the reading lessons he asked me for forced us together long enough to admit our feelings.”

“I saw Silas look at you at church.” Nancy smiled. “I bet you could win him over with a little feminine wile.”

“But he’s told me he doesn’t need my help on his farm.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find plenty of excuses to be there.” Nancy batted her eyelashes.

Could something as simple as forcing Silas to spend time with her work? “I might as well try it.” She laid down her needle and folded her hands. “Got any good ideas?”

“Excuse me.” Fannie stood and rubbed her hands agitatedly on her skirts. “I should check on something in the kitchen. I’m sure I couldn’t come up with anything to help you anyway.”

Frowning, Kate watched the older woman slink out of the room.

Jedidiah refused to trust Fannie because of a past mistake, so if Silas couldn’t trust her for the same reason now, would he ever? Would whatever these women came up with change the heart of the problem?

Was she foolishly pining for the trap Fannie found herself in now?

After collecting her last basket with mittened hands, Kate waved to the stable boy who’d brought her to Silas’s as an excuse to exercise one of the livery’s stabled horses.

She marched toward the door and took in several deep, icy-cold breaths. Before knocking and disturbing their morning routine, she waited until the buggy disappeared. If there wasn’t an easy way to send her back to town, perhaps Silas wouldn’t try to suggest she leave.

“Kate?”

She jumped at Silas’s voice behind her and turned. What was he doing outside this early? His hair wasn’t combed, and his face was red and sweaty. His long wool coat was unbuttoned as was the top of his plain white shirt. The laces on one boot undone.