Valentine's Rose (3 page)

Rose would settle for the one who didn’t appear to need civilizing.

That was wishful thinking.

She sighed longingly, and then put the foolish notion out of her head. She’d come out here to marry one of those
hard-working settlers
Father McCarthy had told her about. He hadn’t mentioned the advertisement saying anything about English gentlemen.

***

A
t the end of the second block, the railroad agent stopped in front of a two-story clapboard house painted white. Didn’t look like a courthouse, as he’d mentioned. He went off to speak to the officer in charge of the soldiers, and then returned and ushered them up a set of stairs leading to a porch that wrapped around the front.

Before she entered, Rose glanced up at a sign posted over the door. One of the words spelled
House
. She couldn’t make out the first word.
L-a-g-o-n-d-a
. It could be a name.

She’d only gotten as far as reading simple words before she’d left school so she could help her mother take in more washing and mending. Her days had been filled with scrubbing other people’s clothes and her nights with caring for younger siblings while her mother continued to work. Schooling had been a luxury they couldn’t afford, though she’d argued with her mother about having to give it up.

Her throat tightened, and then her eyes began to sting. She would give up anything to have her family back again. That wasn’t possible, so she had to stop dwelling on the past and accept that she was alone. Unloved.

“Miss Muldoon?”

Hearing her name snapped Rose out of her daze. Mr. Hardt sounded concerned. Even stranger, he appeared to have brought them home with him. She glanced around at the paneled walls in the front hallway and the nice furnishings

“Are you unwell?” Susannah put her hand on Rose’s arm in a motherly gesture. She was only a few years older, but she’d stepped into a mother hen role. It reminded Rose that she wasn’t alone, and someone did care about her.

She straightened, determined not to be a burden. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“It’s been a long day,” Susannah murmured, and looked pointedly at Mr. Hardt.

He smoothed down wavy black hair as he hung his hat on a hook attached to a high-backed chair. A looking glass was mounted on the back. Rose gazed at her wide-eyed reflection. A hall tree was what they called it. She’d seen them on occasion when she’d delivered clothes her mother had mended for wealthier customers.

A gray-haired lady chatted amiably with the other women. She ushered them into a front parlor. The woman looked too old to be his wife. His mother, perhaps?

“Is this your house?” Rose asked him.

He looked surprised that she’d asked. “Mr. and Mrs. Fry own the Lagonda House. It’s the only hotel in town.”

Rose felt her eyes widen. She didn’t want to admit she had never been in a hotel. She hadn’t ridden a train before either, until a few days ago. In fact, she hadn’t ventured beyond Five Points for most of her life.

“You ladies can freshen up here before we go over to the courthouse.”

Mrs. Braddock narrowed her eyes at the railroad agent’s remark.

He stared right back at her, giving no indication of being ruffled by her anger.

She spoke softly to her son, instructing him to go wait in the parlor with the others while she had a word with “the nice gentleman.” As soon as Danny was out of earshot, she dropped the sweet tone. “Are we to assume this is where we’ll remain until such time we choose to wed?”

“Until later this afternoon, yes,” he returned smoothly. “You do recall signing an agreement stating you were willing to be married.”

Susannah’s chin went up. “I have every intention of marrying. When I am ready to do so.”

Challenging a stubborn man wouldn’t get her anywhere. Rose knew this well, having lived with her father, the stubbornest man ever created. She hugged her shawl, debating whether she ought to step into the fray. She didn’t want to contradict her friend or offend the railroad agent, but this concerned her, too. She’d been able to reason with her father, so convincing Mr. Hardt to compromise seemed an easy enough task.

“We’re all in agreement about marrying, sir. What Mrs. Braddock is wanting, I think, is a little time to get used to the idea.” Rose held the railroad agent’s gaze, which wasn’t difficult, as they stood eye-to-eye. Most men were uncomfortable with her being the same height—or worse, taller.

Mr. Hardt had no visible reaction. His thoughts remained shuttered behind eyes as dark as the deep blue sea.

Rose’s heart hammered against her chest.
When all else fails, try a friendly smile
. “If you was to grant us a night’s sleep, we’d all be chirpy and looking our best in the morning for them coves you picked out.”

At last, he blinked. “Coves?”

“Gents.”

“Ah...” He pressed his lips together. She might’ve thought he was trying not to smile, if he’d shown a hint of humor. “You’ve missed your calling, Miss Muldoon. As a diplomat.”

She assumed he meant it as a compliment, although that was no guarantee he would relent. “You’re agreeable, then?”

Susannah heaved a sigh. “I’m relieved to hear it. We’ll need some time to settle in and get our bearings. Tomorrow, or better yet, in a few days, we could meet our suitors in an acceptable situation. A social would be a proper venue.”

The railroad agent crossed his arms over his chest. What Susannah suggested didn’t sound offensive to Rose, but there was something about the Boston widow that rubbed Mr. Hardt the wrong way. “The last time we arranged a social, the Land League used the distraction to wreak havoc. No socials.”

“We can manage without,” Rose broke in, “if we might have a look at those men on that list you mentioned.” The way her luck had been going, the handsome gentleman wouldn’t be involved, but if he was, she wanted to meet him again.

“Yes, that would be much better than forcing us to take part in a game of chance.”

Rose groaned at her friend’s remark. Susannah meant well, but Mr. Hardt wouldn’t be calling her a diplomat.

The oncoming storm started in his eyes. Rose had seen her father lose his temper, and that’s what he looked like, right before the gales struck.

“This isn’t a game, Mrs. Braddock. You all came out here to be married, and so you shall be, as soon as possible. I’m willing to allow you to remain here one night, at the expense of the railroad, but you better be ready first thing in the morning. We’ll hold the drawing at ten.”

“What makes you think we’ll agree to a lottery?” Susannah braced her hands on her hips, challenging him. “There’s no rush.”

“Yes, there is. We must put an end these disputes, which means assigning claims, and our policy states the first assignments go to married men.”

Disputes, claims, it all sounded like nonsense to Rose. What did make sense, though, and what she should’ve expected, was the motive. These marriages were just transactions to the railroad...business...and in the end, money. Things were no different out here than at home.

After the initial stab of disappointment, she stated the obvious. “Daub their palms, you mean. Only, we’re to be the grease, and you need to apply it quick.”

“Grease?” Susannah’s frown turned perplexed.

“So he can get whatever it is he wants from these men.”

Confusion turned to shock. “We’re to be bribes?”

“
Brides
,” the railroad agent said firmly. “Miss Muldoon misunderstood.” He held Rose’s gaze, challenging her to contradict him.

He could deny it all he wanted, but she’d lived in Five Points where bribery was a way of life, and she wasn’t as ignorant as he thought. However, nothing would be gained by arguing with him about it. For the moment, she’d hold her tongue. 

Susannah tipped her head to look up at the railroad agent, studying him in a way that implied puzzlement more than anger. “Is this true, Mr. Hardt? Is the reason you’re in a hurry because you have to pay someone off?”

His face went taut.

Rose sent her friend a warning look. Susannah had a way of asking questions that made them sound like insults.

He replied in a tight voice. “The longer we linger and allow you and the other ladies to become a distraction, the more likely there will be trouble. Suffice to say, tempers are short. These men are restless. The sooner you’re wed, the better.”

Rose searched the agent’s stiff expression, trying to interpret what was behind his guarded words. “Are you saying we’re in danger?”

His features softened just the slightest bit, she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching him closely. “No, Miss Muldoon. I wouldn’t allow harm to come to you, to any of you. But part of my job entails seeing that you are matched up, and I intend to do that in an efficient and expedient manner.”

And going about it in the wrong way. Being diplomatic, Rose didn’t say that. She understood the situation. He needed them to get something he wanted. They needed him to get what they wanted. A deal could be struck. “It wouldn’t take long to pick out our husbands, once we meet the fellows.”

His black brows gathered in a frown more thoughtful than angry. “There are over a hundred men signed up for brides. The fairest way to match you up is to draw names.”

“That’s the quickest way, to be sure, but it’s not fair to
us
.”

He reached up and rubbed his fingers on his forehead. His wasn’t the only head aching. Plus, her feet hurt. “What do you suggest?” he asked wearily.

Susannah opened her mouth.

He responded by placing his forefinger over her lips. “Don’t ask me to arrange a social.”

She drew back, startled.

He’d done that to fluster her, or to get her to shut up. Maybe both. Frustration didn’t give him license to embarrass her. But he didn’t act a bit regretful, nor did he offer an apology.

“Your suggestion, Miss Muldoon,” he prompted.

Her suggestion? First she had to come up with one. “The men on that list, why not let them come by here and call on us, one at a time, and we can do our own choosing. That would be proper...and it’s not a social.”

“Interviewing candidates individually could take weeks.” Disappointment clouded his features. He’d expected her to come up with a better answer. That was the best she could do, and it met his requirements. Mostly.

“But the
coves
would all get their chance, and we’d end up married, like you want.”

He shook his head. “I can’t wait that long.”

“
You
can’t wait? This isn’t about you—” Susannah stepped back with a look of alarm when the railroad agent raised his finger. Her rosy skin turned five shades of red. She braced her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Miss Muldoon has a good idea, and I’m sure the others will agree. We’ll meet with the men here, one at a time—or not at all.”

Rose sucked in a sharp breath.
Oh, Susannah. No...
Now was not a good time to teach this man a lesson about not being in charge.

“Very well,” he said in a calm voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “Return tickets can be arranged.”

He would send them back?

Rose shook her head. Her tired eyes began to sting. She couldn’t return to Five Points. There was nothing to return to, save crushing poverty, unbearable memories and a bleak future. So many good men had died in the war, those who’d returned were either married, too damaged to consider, or uninterested in wedding a “giantess.” Immigrating west had been her best chance at a decent life...maybe her only chance.

Casting her pride aside, she grabbed Mr. Hardt’s arm before he could walk away and seal her doom. “You want us to be married quick? Fine then, I’ll marry the first man who’ll take me. Even if he’s the next one who walks through that door.”

––––––––

T
he saloon turned out to be mostly empty. O’Shea stood behind the bar, wiping down the polished surface with loving care. The ornate piece of furniture carved from mahogany and featuring a brass foot rail looked out of place on the sawdust floor, surrounded by barrels repurposed as tables. But it represented a dream, something Val understood even if he’d lost his.

O’Shea glanced up as Val came in. “Back already?”

“Only long enough to sell this land.” Val removed the deed from his pocket. “Know of anyone who might be interested?”

An amused look flickered across O’Shea’s face. “You ought to be aware of something before you try to sell that piece of paper. All the land ‘round here belongs to the railroad. That’ll include what you won.”

Val looked at the deed, incredulous. His stomach pitched. No, he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for a hoax. “You’re saying this is bogus?”

“Oh, it’s real, far as it goes...” The Irishman stopped cleaning the bar and set the cloth aside. “But it’s not worth anything until the railroad says so.”

A valid deed, but worthless?

“What are you saying, that I don’t own this until I take care of some paperwork with the railroad?” To Val’s annoyance, laughter remained in O’Shea’s eyes.

“It’s a wee bit more complicated than that. Hardt’s assigning land first to men who take part in their matchmaking program. Ned Jarvis, the bloke who bet the deed, plans to get himself a bride. Once he’s married, he won’t need that piece of paper. He’s already registered and proved up his claim. He’ll just apply for a new deed from the railroad.”

Heat flooded Val’s face and his temper flared. “Damn rascal tricked me.”

“Looks that way.” O’Shea grinned like it was funniest joke in the world. “But you aren’t from around here. No reason you’d know. I wouldn’t feel too bad if I was you.”

Val didn’t feel
bad
, he felt murderous.

“How much is his land worth?” Was it worth risking a noose for wringing Jarvis’s neck?

“Ah, that depends on who you ask. Six dollars an acre, according to the railroad.”

Val’s jaw dropped. “For prairie grass?”

The Irishman gave a philosophical nod. “Some say its worth lots more. Not for what’s on the surface, for what’s underneath it. Coal.”

Coal?

A shiver ran down Val’s spine. His family’s fortunes had come from coal. Winning that hand of poker had to be a twist of Fate, or what he preferred to call Destiny. He held the deed to land that could be worth a fortune—if he could gain the rights to it before the former owner cheated him out of it.