Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3) Read online

  I was confused. “Ab … what?”

  “Distasteful,” said Pastor Kinsley.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had a hard life. I hope you find someone who’ll take you in and give you shelter. I cannot bring you home.” He glanced at Mrs. Hershey. “Censor me all you want, but my family would object strenuously if I married her. I would never hear the end of it from my mother, and I do not cross my mother. Ever.” He glowered unhappily. “I could also say that you’ve deceived me.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  “I wonder if you knew about this, but kept it from me? Who’s to say you’re not culpable. This mail order scheme of yours is an utter failure.”

  “It is not,” she objected, looking astounded. “I’ve had smashing success before. I’ve two successful couples now, and I have every hope Celia will find a husband, making it three. I had no clue she was with child. She told me nothing about being married before. I’m in the dark as much as you are. I would never deliberately deceive anyone.”

  “Well, I’ve been deceived. Now I must be going.” He tipped his hat to me. “Good day, Mrs. Wellington. I hope you find yourself in better circumstances real soon.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

  “Well, that’s that, I suppose,” muttered Mrs. Hershey. “I am shocked by the outcome.”

  “He didn’t have to pay me. I don’t deserve the money. You can keep it.” I slid the coins towards Pastor Kinsley. “Somebody can buy food with that.”

  The preacher’s expression remained grim. “She’s without protection now. Where will she stay?”

  “I suppose I’ll take her home. I don’t know what else to do.” Pulling out a chair, she sat, her shoulders slumping. “What a muddle.”

  “There’s a room above the Men’s Emporium. Buddy Wexler was looking for a tenant. It’s nothing much, just a small room with a shared water closet.”

  “You live there.”

  “I do, on the other end of the hallway. That’s how I know it’s available. It had the sign out this morning.”

  “That’s something,” said Mrs. Hershey, sitting a little straighter. “We can get her settled there, while I find her a husband. There are other eligible bachelors in town. I take this failure personally, Nicolas. It grieves me to know she won’t be married, and she certainly needs a husband. She’s about to give birth, for heaven’s sake.”

  Pastor Kinsley glanced at me. “How far along are you?”

  “I’ve no earthly idea.”

  “You haven’t seen a doctor?” Mrs. Hershey’s brows had drawn together.

  “No. Never saw one of those.”

  “Oh, my stars. She needs to see Doctor Baker as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ll get her settled and arrange an appointment.”

  “That’s so kind of you, Nicolas. You’re a good man. You’d never leave a woman in her condition to the streets to fend for herself.”

  His eyes skimmed over me. “I have a feeling I might regret this, but sometimes we’re asked to do things we never thought we would. He does work in mysterious ways.”

  These strangers seemed to be deciding my life for me, talking about me as if I were a piece of unwanted furniture that needed to be moved around. “What if I don’t want to stay here? I can’t afford a room anyhow, not for long anyway. I’d only be a burden to you people.”

  “I’ll pay for the room,” said Nicolas. “I’ll get the discounted rate. It’s nothing to write home about, but it’s got a bed and a dresser. I can provide you with pillows and blankets.” He got to his feet. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  Something in his smile made my belly flip over in teasing little tingles. Or was that the effect of eating all that sugar? “All right.”

  “We need to get real food in you as well.”

  “I’d love some supper. I sure am hungry still, although that cake was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  I scrambled to my feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Hershey. This whole situation is my fault. Earnest Hobart had every right to refuse me. I worried it might happen, but I prayed it wouldn’t. I was dishonest as can be in my letters. I just didn’t have much choice in the matter. I hope you can understand that. I never meant to be a liar like that. Life’s been hard lately, especially after Lloyd died. I thought I could manage on my own, but I can’t, not stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You don’t need to explain, Celia.” Mrs. Hershey stood, clasping her hands before her. “Plenty of women lose their husbands and are destitute. If you’re not near family who can help, it’s a dire situation indeed.”

  “My family’s dead, and my brothers and sister are elsewhere. I was a surprise baby to my parents. They were pretty long in the tooth when they had me. By the time I grew up, everybody had already left. They got families of their own now. I didn’t want to burden them. I really was hoping to find a husband.”

  She patted my shoulder. “Don’t make yourself uneasy, my dear. I’m going to do everything in my power to see you happily married.”

  “Is this your only bag?” asked Nicolas.

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Hershey eyed the worn leather satchel. “She’s going to need more things than that.”

  “I have a change of clothes. That’s about all.”

  “People have donated clothing to the church,” she said. “I’ll ask Mrs. Kelly for help as well. She’s always been generous with the orphans and widows fund. I’m sure she’ll do something for Celia.”

  “It’s going to be just fine,” said Nicolas. “Don't worry so much.”

  “I can’t help feeling dreadful.”

  He escorted me to the door. “No harm’s been done. Mrs. Wellington will be well taken care of.”

  The kindly pastor had my attention, as curiosity propelled me to ask, “You sure are handsome for a preacher. I didn’t see a wedding ring. Why aren’t you married?”

  Startled by the compliment and the blunt question, he blinked rapidly. “I … um … ”

  Mrs. Hershey’s laughter filled the room. “My dear, you’ve just asked the one question everyone in town has wanted to ask, but never dared.”

  Chapter 4

  “I’ve never been married because I’m too busy sorting everyone else’s life out.” He glowered at Mrs. Hershey. “This woman is in need of lodging. I’ll speak with you later about the details.”

  She smiled strangely, her attention drifting between us. “I’ll go see about Doctor Baker. Don’t trouble yourself with that.”

  We were nearly out the door. “Thank you. We’ll be in the restaurant after I get the key from Buddy.” His hand fell to my back. “Off we go.”

  “Thank you again, sir. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

  “It’s my job to take care of people,” he murmured.

  Strolling past the nave of the church, my eyes skimmed over empty pews, noting light green walls with ornate, white trim. “This is pretty.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  The pews were stained oak, the wood new smelling. “I’m fond of church, cause I love to sing. Haven’t been in ages, though. I had to put the horse down after she injured her foot. Walking ten miles in my condition made everything a chore and a half.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “How long have you lived in Boot Creek?”

  “Five years.”

  Leaving the church, we emerged into the yard, with a busy thoroughfare just beyond the white picket fence. Several people strolled by, paying us little notice, although a few greeted the pastor.

  “Hello, Kinsley. How goes it, preacher?” asked a rough-looking man in a wrinkled tow shirt and vest. A six-shooter hung from each hip.

  “It’s good, Lamont, and you?”

  “Things are as fair as can be expected.” He eyed me. “Who’s this ragamuffin?”

  “She’s new to town.” He steered me onward, not wanting to stop to talk. “Have a goo
d day, Lamont.”

  “You too, pastor.”

  “Ragamuffin?” I muttered. “I guess I must be a sight. Haven’t seen a mirror in years. Don’t know what I look like, really.”

  “It’s of little consequence.” We neared the Men’s Emporium, which was an enormous two-story building with wide windows. We did not enter from the front, as Nicolas led me down a narrow alleyway to the back. “The living quarters are only accessible here. Buddy doesn’t want the tenants going through the store.”

  “Oh.”

  The rear of the building faced what looked like a warehouse. “A garden.” Someone had fenced in an impressive array of vegetables, the greenery brimming with tomatoes, beans, broccoli, and carrots.

  “This belongs to the Wexler’s.” A high fence surrounded the garden; the latch had been secured with a heavy-looking lock.

  “Looks mighty good to me. Best looking garden I’ve ever seen.”

  He held open a door. “Mrs. Wexler gives away what they can’t eat. She’s a generous woman. I’m sure she’ll offer you produce sooner than later. It’s a shame to let perfectly good food spoil. I’ve eaten plenty of tomato sandwiches.”

  “Gosh, I sure hope so. I love tomato sandwiches.” We stood in a small entryway, facing a staircase. “This looks clean.” The wooden walls held hints of rain damage.

  “I’ll get the key. Wait right here.”

  I stared after him, thinking he was possibly the most handsome man I had ever met. He’s just being kind because he’s a preacher. Don’t go getting any strange ideas about him, Celia. “I’m not,” I whispered to myself. “He’s a breath of fresh air, though.”

  “Pardon?” Nicolas approached, smiling. “You say something?”

  “I just think the air smells awfully nice around here, sir.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I suppose.” Pointing to the stairs, he said, “After you.”

  Grasping the banister, I took the first step. “Thank you.”

  The second floor revealed a short, dark hallway with several doors on either side. Nicolas unlocked a door on the end, exposing a blackened interior. “I’ll just open the curtain here.” Pushing aside the heavy drapes, light streamed in, falling across a thin carpet. The sparse furnishings included a small bed with a slightly stained mattress and a dresser. “It’s not much, but I’ll bring you some linens. I’ve a maid that comes twice a week to wash things.” He glanced at my dress. “She could take care of your clothing, as well. No charge.”

  “I can’t remember the last time this was washed.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it could use some … freshening up.” Moving towards the door, he said, “Let me show you the water closet. It’s for the tenants to use at will.”

  “What’s a water closet?”

  “I’ll show you.” At the end of the hallway, he opened a door. “This is a water closet. Mrs. Wexler spared no expense here. We’ve indoor plumbing and a working loo.”

  My mouth fell open. “You don’t say.” I gazed at the copper tub encased in a carved wooden cabinet. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “No need to go out to use the privy.”

  “I sure am looking forward to this.” I ogled the contraption on the loo. “I hope I don’t break anything. It looks complicated.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Now, let me get your bedding.”

  Wandering to a mirror that hung over a ceramic bowl, a woman with grayish skin and dark eyes stared back at me. I hadn’t seen myself in years, and shocked, I could only stare. The unhappy realization came hard and fast. I was not especially pretty, nor clean. You are a ragamuffin.

  “Gracious be, I’m a sight.” Most of my hair remained hidden beneath the bonnet, but the strands near my forehead were a dullish brown. “Maybe I shouldn’t look in mirrors.” I turned the other way, feeling disheartened by what I had seen.

  “I’ve got your things.” Nicolas appeared in the doorway. “Let’s make your bed, so I can take you across the street for a bite to eat.”

  “You’ve been really nice to me, sir.”

  “It’s nothing.” He grinned. “It’s my job to help those in need. You’re not the first person I’ve assisted, Mrs. Wellington. You won’t be the last.”

  I followed him to my room, watching as he made the bed, accomplishing the task quickly. A simple looking blanket and a thin pillow now lay upon the mattress.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s grab a bite. I’m starving myself.”

  “I can pay for the room. I got some money from selling my land.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself about that right now.” He moved towards the doorway. “Let’s have a meal, and then I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Wexler. She’ll want to meet her newest tenant.”

  “Who lives here besides you?”

  “An elderly lady and a young couple with a baby. You’ll meet them all shortly.”

  “All right.”

  He led me to the staircase and down, exiting via the back door. “Walking through an alleyway to get to and from your house isn’t exactly dignified, but that’s what living in town’s all about, I suppose.”

  “I don’t mind it in the least.” The space between the buildings looked litter free, and I had not seen a single rat.

  After emerging onto the street, he guided me across to the hotel, where a restaurant occupied the first floor. It being late afternoon, there were few people in the dining room, and the waitress seated us immediately. Never having eaten in such a fancy place, I felt awkward, wondering if everyone had turned to stare at me, because I felt a prick of discomfort.

  A menu came my way. “Thank you.”

  The waitress wore a crisp white apron. “The special today is Porterhouse Steak with cress and chip potatoes. The soup of the day is Onion.”

  My mouth watered. “I’ll have the special. That sounds real nice.”

  “I’ll have the chicken with mushrooms.”

  “Oh! That’s delicious too.”

  He grinned. “You can have a bite, if you wish. I'm not all that hungry.”

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’ll have coffee,” said Nicolas.

  “What is there to drink?”

  “We’ve got hot chocolate, mulled cider punch, grape juice, lemonade, sarsaparilla, and ginger beer.”

  “I’ll take the mulled cider punch, please.”

  She smiled politely. “I’ll give the cook your order.”

  After she had left, I gazed at Pastor Kinsley, finding his attention elsewhere. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Those intriguing blue eyes focused on me.

  “I was born in Cass County, Missouri. I’m the middle child of fifteen brothers and sisters.”

  I snorted. “Gosh, that’s a lot.”

  “Yes, my family was rather large.”

  “Is that why you left, to escape them?”

  “No, that’s not why I left.”

  “What brought you to Boot Creek?”

  “After I finished seminary school, a friend of mine was heading west. I thought I’d join him.”

  “For adventure? Did you think you might kill some Indians?”

  “No, Celia. That’s not the reason.”

  “Most of the Indians are gone now anyway. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the government, but I think it’s shameful what they did.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t agree with the Indian Removal Act. It led to nothing but wars and senseless killing.” This was a topic I felt passionate about, hating the policy that had been signed into law by President Andrew Jackson. “If you ask me, they could’ve handled that better.”

  Now I had his complete attention. “It was inevitable. It’s tragic, but there’s nothing stopping westward expansion.”

  “Chief Justice Marshall said the Cherokees were their own nation. They were here long before us white folks showed up. My grandparents came over from Ireland. My ma was Irish. Most people came from somewhere else. It’s wrong to toss peopl
e off their own land.”

  “You do hold some strong opinions, Mrs. Wellington.”

  “Lloyd got the newspaper once a month. I’ve had some schooling, so I can read just fine. I used to read them papers back to back, even the advertisements for soap and baking power.”

  “I see.”

  “I do love to read. If I ever get enough money, I’m buying a book or two. I’ve read a book before, but I had to hurry on account that it belonged to my pa’s friend. We were at their place for supper.”

  “You read a book in one sitting?”

  “Yes, I did. It was awfully good too.”

  “Do you remember the name?”

  “Yes, of course. ‘Rip Van Winkle’.”

  “You read that in one evening?”

  “I started after supper. It was less than two hundred pages. So I read about fifty pages an hour. I think we left around ten.”

  He sat back in the chair, eyeing me. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Expecting what?”

  “It just goes to show you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.”

  Then it dawned on me what he meant. “I look a fright, I know. I can’t help it. I’m always trying to improve myself, but it’s hard when you don’t have any money. I’m hoping I’ll end up on my feet soon enough. I know there won’t be too many men who’ll want to raise somebody else’s baby, but I really need to find a daddy for this little boy.” I patted my belly.

  “Little boy?”

  I nodded. “I know I’m having a boy.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.” I smiled brightly, delighted that I had his full attention and he hadn’t chastised me for some of my radical ideas. Lloyd would berate me sideways and upside down for implying the government dealt wrongly with the Indians. I spied the waitress approaching carrying a tray laden with something that smelled delicious. “Oh, my stars! So much food in one place.” My happiness could not be contained. “It’s like Christmas, Pastor Kinsley.”