The Bartender's Mail Order Bride

“
H
e doesn’t even know
I exist.” Nutmeg Archer ran her hand alongside the stalls in the barn as she watched her brother brush the white mare, Regalo.

Hank’s hand moved in long strokes along the horse’s back and reached its tail. He set the brush down and looked around for a different brush among the set stacked on the windowsill. “Mh-hmm.”

“I mean, really, the last year since he’s been here, I’ve practically fallen in front of him every chance I got and nothing. Not one thing.”

Hank turned toward the wall, his eyes searching the rack of bits, bridles and horse tack. “Right.”

“Am I that awful, Hank? I know I’m not as pretty as Clara, but I’m not that horrid, am I?”

“Yes,” Hank said as he reached up for his favorite bridle.

Meg whipped her head toward her older brother, her blue eyes flashing as her strawberry blonde pigtails flipped behind her.

“Hank Archer, did you just say yes?” she said, her hands on her hips.

“What? Uh, no?” Hank asked, startled away from his horse preparations by her raised voice.

“Ugh,” she said as she plopped onto a barrel in the corner and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Hank tipped his hat up and leaned against the stable wall as he set down the bridle he’d pulled out. He smiled at his sister, his laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Meg. Truly, I am. But no, I wasn’t listening too much. Who are you talking about? Who is
he
?”

Meg let out a big sigh. She’d never told anyone how she felt about Sam Allen, the bartender at the Occidental who’d been a friend of Hank’s for several years. And with Hank’s level of interest, she couldn’t decide if she should start now.

She and Hank had always been close—but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his teasing about such a delicate matter as her feelings for Sam Allen. If she actually did tell him that her heart sped up every time he entered the room or her palms glistened when he spoke, she’d likely never hear the end of it.

She’d only brought it up because now that she’d heard Sam needed a bride—and quick—and had put an ad in the
Groom’s Gazette
to find one, the clock was ticking and she knew things weren’t going to go in her favor.

Hank picked up the brush and started on the other side of Regalo, his strokes falling into a rhythm.

“Maybe you should talk to Clara about this. I mean, she’s a woman.”

“Well, I hope so.” Meg laughed as she threw her braids back over her shoulder. She wondered if maybe the reason she was invisible to Sam was because of her simple manner of dressing. Besides the fact that she’d worked on the ranch for the most part after she’d finished her schooling, she hadn’t had the chance to learn much about “womanly” things from her mother before she’d died. As the oldest daughter in the family, there’d been no one to teach her after that, and her skills in that area were lacking. Clara had offered to help, but they hadn’t had the opportunity yet.

“You know what I mean,” Hank said, his eyes narrowed at Meg. “I certainly don’t know what to tell you, especially if you don’t want to even tell me who you’re pining for.”

“Well, thank you anyway.” Meg slowly walked toward the house, wondering how she might make her feelings known before he accepted one of the mail order applicants.

She was still lost in thought as she reached the porch and almost ran into Clara on her way out.

“Oh, goodness.” Clara laughed as she tied her bonnet under her chin. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Yes,” Meg said as she sat on the porch swing and started rocking.

“Anything I can help with?” Clara rested her hand on Meg’s shoulder.

Meg smiled at the thought of how nice it had been to get to know Clara since she’d married her brother. It had been a bit of a rocky beginning, but she felt grateful that Clara had cast such a friendly, maternal feeling over the household—something they hadn’t had for quite a while, since their mother died.

“No, I’m hopeless.” Meg cocked her head sideways at Clara. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m heading to the Occidental to meet Suzanne and Sadie. They’ve got some letters in response to Sam’s ad and I’m anxious to see.”

The blood drained from Meg’s face as she sat up straight on the swing. “Oh, that sounds lovely,” she managed, wishing her fluttering heart would settle.

“It does? I hadn’t thought you’d like that sort of thing, but I’d love it if you’d join us,” Clara said. “Get your wrap and bonnet and I’ll wait in the buggy.”

“Thank you, Clara. I’ll be right out,” Meg said, trying her best not to sound too eager as she ran in the house.

She ran a brush through her hair with absolutely none of the time and care her brother had just given the horse as she raced to pin it up under her bonnet. She turned toward the door and then back around again, quickly changing her dress before she realized that she had no idea if Sam would be there or not. No matter, though. She was determined to make him notice her, one way or another.

“
I
hardly know
what to say to him about the whole thing.” Suzanne set the letters down on the table as they waited for their lunch.

Sadie, Suzanne’s identical twin sister, lifted her glass of lemonade and nodded to the waitress for a refill.

Meg smiled as she looked around the room, admiring the restaurant that her friends, Sadie and Tripp, had opened not too long ago. She was pleased that it was bustling and that Sadie looked so happy, apparently glad that she’d agreed to come to Tombstone from Chicago to be Tripp’s mail order bride.

“How’s the new help working out?” Clara asked Sadie, whose hawk-eyed gaze followed the young girl around the room.

“I’m not sure yet. I really would prefer to be doing it myself, but Tripp just insists that I not be on my feet that long every day until after the baby comes, and maybe not even then. I can still help out in the kitchen, and actually, that’s helped him a great deal, but he doesn’t want me running around all day and night.”

Clara patted her hand as she looked at Suzanne. “I know it’s not what you would prefer, but I do think it’s for the best. I mean, given your family’s propensity for twins.”

“Your family now, too,” Meg said, her eyes twinkling as Clara turned crimson.

“Don’t say that, any of you,” Sadie said as her face blanched. “I love the twins, and I loved
being
a twin, just not sure I’m up to raising them.”

Meg looked from Sadie to Suzanne, thinking of her own twin sisters as she shook her head and wondered how their parents ever told them apart.

“Oh, here he comes,” Sadie whispered behind her napkin as the other girls straightened, looking away.

Except for Meg. Her heart fluttered as he strode toward them, his lean, long legs making quick work of it. He wore his bartender’s vest and had his sleeves rolled up like she’d seen card dealers do, and to her, his black hair and crystal blue eyes gave her trouble keeping her sigh inside.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, his white teeth flashing as he smiled and took a quick bow.

Meg noticed that they all were looking mostly down at their plates rather than at Sam, and she wondered what was going on that she didn’t know about.

Sam looked quizzically at them all in turn, and when his eyes met Meg’s, his eyebrows rose questioningly. She had no answer for him but a shrug of her shoulders.

Finally, Suzanne picked up the letters and fanned herself with them. “Have a seat, Sam. We have some things we need to discuss.”

His eyes narrowed as he pulled a chair over from the closest empty table and sat down, leaning forward.

“So, how many lovely brides do I have to choose from? Mother arrives soon, and since I told her I was married and I really don’t want to disappoint her, I need to get moving.”

His smile tugged at Meg’s heart—not least because she couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. A stranger, no less.

Suzanne cleared her throat and handed the letters to Sadie, whose eyes widened as she looked from Suzanne to Clara to Sam.

“Sadie has something to tell you,” Suzanne said, again fascinated with something on her plate.

After a quick cough into her hand, Sadie said, “Sam, I’m afraid it’s not good news. Not good at all.”

Sam stared at her for a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly. He sat back slowly in his chair, his arms folded over his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, of course, you remember the ad that we put into the
Groom’s Gazette
on your behalf,” Suzanne cut in.

Meg remembered the ad Clara had shown her. She’d thought it sounded wonderful and exciting.
Hard-working, responsible bartender seeks wife immediately. Good, kind man with steady income and decent home.

“Yes, I remember,” Sam said slowly, his eyes roaming about the group of ladies.

Sadie continued. “We’ve had several responses, but they were not what we hoped for. It appears that they have all been negative, which is unusual that we received them at all. Normally, I wouldn’t imagine that ladies would send a letter to decline, but they have.”

“Declined?” he said, running his hands back through his hair.

“Now, Sam, from what I see in the letters—and that’s the reason they wrote—it wasn’t
personal
, by any means. Many said that you sounded like a wonderful man. But there was one common thread…”

Meg hadn’t been in the conversation before, and was quite curious how anyone could possibly turn down such a wonderful offer—for such a handsome, exciting man.

“Did you put a picture of Sam in the ad?” Meg asked, still incredulous—if secretly pleased—that there were no takers.

“No, dear, that’s not commonly done,” Clara said, patting Meg’s hand before she looked away.

“It…they…the ladies seemed to have a concern about your profession,” Sadie said finally, setting the letters back down on the table and casting a sorrowful glance at Sam.

“What? But why? It’s a perfectly honorable profession, and I like it. I get to talk to people all the time, help them have fun or solve a problem. It’s not what they think. I don’t even like alcohol.”

Sadie covered his hand with hers. “But surely you must understand how they might have that perception. Isn’t that exactly the same reason why you don’t want your mother to know you’re a bartender? Because she’d feel the same way these ladies do?”

He sat back in his chair again with a whoosh of breath as he wiped his forehead of its sheen.

“When you put it that way, I suppose I can understand.”

“I think they are utterly wrong, all of them,” Meg said, a little more loudly than she’d anticipated, she realized, when all eyes turned to her. “Well, what I mean is, I believe there are people who wouldn’t feel that way. You just haven’t found her yet.” For the first time, she found herself casting her own eyes down at her plate.

“Thank you,” Sam said, and she felt warmth creep into her cheeks as he turned to her. “I hope you’re right. I don’t have much time left. I still need to sort out a new job before she gets here, as well as get married.”

His head dropped into his hands as he groaned.

The girls all looked at each other once more, before Sadie said, “Don’t worry, Sam. We have a few more days, and I’m sure we’ll get some more responses. Let’s not be too discouraged.”

Sadie’s voice was bright, but as Meg looked at her, her face showed that she was anything but hopeful.

Meg’s heart sunk at Sam’s defeated demeanor and sagging shoulders. “I just don’t want to disappoint my mother. She’s been very good to me, and has been through a great deal lately. And if I remember correctly, it matters very much to her that I have a respectable position, and a nice family. In fact, I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t flat out told her that it was true.”

Clara sat straight in her chair. “Sam, let’s just give it a little more time. Something will turn up. I mean, someone.”

Sam let out a deep sigh as he said, “I sure hope you’re right.”