Mail Order Bride: The Master: A Historical Mail Order Bride Story (Mail Order Brides) (2 page)

Matthew trotted all the way to the train station to keep up with the Master’s long stride. His heart thundered out of his chest with pride and excitement. He had helped the Master, and he was helping him still. What other boy in the village could claim that?

By the time they reached the station, Matthew’s forehead dripped with sweat. The Master strode directly onto the platform, but Matthew hesitated and hung back around the side of the station building. Should he stick by the Master, even when he met his bride for the first time? Should he make himself invisible until the Master called him to carry something?

The Master seemed to have forgotten his young assistant. He scanned the platform just long enough to determine there was no one on it. Then he went into the station building. Matthew peeked in the door after him.

The building was deserted except for a young lady sitting on one of the benches. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Her long chestnut curls hung down her back, and her pale skin offset her ruddy apple cheeks. Matthew understood Alan’s comments about her, and liked her the moment he set his eyes on her. She looked like she’d make a good wife for the Master.

The Master halted just inside the doorway. He gave the interior of the station the same sweeping glance he gave the platform. Not another soul moved in the building, not even Ennis Patterson, the station master.

The Master moved through the benches and approached the lady. Matthew skulked over and hid between two other benches, where he could hear their conversation.

The lady looked up at the man standing in front of her. “Are you Polly McLane?” the Master asked.

“Yes.” A cautious light broke across her face. “You must be Brian Buchanan.”

The Master inclined his head. “Yes, I am.” He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

Polly started to stand up, but the Master interrupted her.

“Please, don’t get up. I’m terribly sorry I’m so late. School didn’t get out until just a few minutes ago.” He sat down on the bench next to her, still holding onto her hand. “I thought I’d conduct you to the hotel, if you don’t mind. You can stay there until Sunday morning. Will that be all right with you?”

“Please don’t apologize. You explained it all in your letter, and I quite understand.” Polly glanced around the station. “I hope my presence here hasn’t caused too much disruption for you.”

The Master’s sharp eyes glinted in the sunbeams slanting through the low windows. “He’s been here, hasn’t he?”

Polly’s eyes flew open. “Who?”

The Master clenched his jaw. “You can tell me the truth. I know Noah Bartlett came here to see you.”

Polly looked back down at her hands. Her fingers knotted in her lap and twisted around each other again and again. “How did you know?”

“His son, Felix, is one of my students,” the Master told her. “He can’t stop himself from bragging about his father’s notorious exploits.”

Matthew barely heard her words but as she spoke, a tear fell into her lap. “It’s nothing.”

The Master set his mouth in a hard straight line. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” Polly shook her mane of curls but when she looked up at the Master, another tear streaked down her other cheek. “Can’t we just go to the hotel? I’ve been sitting here waiting for you ever since the train came in. I’m exhausted. Let’s forget all about it.”

The Master covered their interlocked hands with his other hand and pressed Polly’s hand between both of his own. “Polly, listen to me. I know you’re tired, and after meeting Noah Bartlett, you’re probably distraught as well. But listen to me. We’re going to be married on Sunday. You must trust me. Tell me exactly what he said.”

Polly looked into his eyes, but she still hesitated. Matthew held his breath behind the bench. Her lower lip twitched and started to quiver. At last, she dropped her eyes again and burst into a flood of tears.

“He said,” she hiccupped. “
he said he’d kill us both if we did anything to get him in trouble with the law. He said he’d kill you if I told you what he’d done.”

“What did he do?” the Master demanded. Matthew never heard his voice so hard and cold before.

Polly sobbed softly for a moment. “Nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

The Master scowled at her. Only the soft puffing of her sobs echoed through the station.

“When he first showed up,” Polly said. “I thought he was you. I thought you’d come to meet me. I was standing on the platform, and I walked toward him to meet him. I smiled at him. Do you believe that? I smiled at
him
.”

“You thought it was me,” the Master muttered.

“All of a sudden,” she went on. “he started laughing. I’ve never heard such a horrible, wicked laugh in my life. He laughed in my face. I still didn’t understand. I still thought it was you. I thought, how can I marry this man?”

“So what did he say?” the Master asked.

“He said I was just what he thought I would be,” Polly told him. “He said I looked like a pretty good piece of work, and that I should have been able to find a man back East. He said there must be something wrong with me, if I came all this way to marry someone I couldn’t tell from a stranger on the street. Then he laughed at me again.”

“So when did you realize it wasn’t me?” the Master asked.

“About then,” Polly replied. “He started talking about you. He said you were a regular dandy about town, and that you had a pretty high opinion of yourself. He said you always paraded around town in a black coat that made you look like a woman.” Polly choked on a laugh in spite of herself.

The Master snorted, but didn’t interrupt her.

“What else?” he asked. “Did he harass you at all? If he did, I’ll have him thrown in jail.”

Polly shook her head. “If you can believe it, he never laid a finger on me. Do you believe that, with all this blubbering? You would think he molested me or some other terrible thing. But he didn’t. He didn’t have to. He said we wouldn’t be getting married on Sunday, and that I would be going with him as soon as he got rid of you. Then he said he’d kill me if I told you about all this.”

Polly stared into the Master’s eyes. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you as a result of my telling you.”

The Master picked up the hand he held clasped between his palms. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss against the knuckles of her slender hand. “I’m glad you told me. But listen to me and remember this. Whatever else happens, we
will
be getting married on Sunday. We’ll be getting married on Sunday if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Polly pleaded. “Let’s forget all about it.”

“I won’t forget it,” the Master declared. “and I won’t let him get away with this. He’s a coward, if he goes around terrorizing helpless women in train stations. I’m not afraid of a man like that.”

“But what can you do?” Polly cried. “He said he’s killed better men than you for looking at him the wrong way. How will you stop him?”

“Don’t worry about that,” the Master told her. “But I want to make this clear to you. Whatever else happens, we won’t keep secrets from each other. If Bartlett ever comes near you again, I want you to tell me.”

“He said he would kill me if I told you,” she repeated. “From the way he acted, I could believe him capable of it, too.”

“Oh, make no mistake,” the Master replied. “He’s more than capable of that and much more. But you and I must be stronger than him or anyone else like him. If he comes near you again, if he speaks to you or looks at you on the street, I want you to tell me. Promise me you will.”

Polly kept her eyes down, but she nodded.

“That’s right,” the Master told her. “We’re going to be man and wife, and I need to know that we trust each other. Now, let’s get you to the hotel. I’ll send the porter around for your luggage, and I’ll order a hot bath for you.”

“Thank you,” she answered.

The Master raised her by the hand from the bench. Polly glanced back as he led her toward the door. “Who’s your shadow?”

“Him?” the Master replied. “That’s Matthew Burke. He’s my star pupil.”

“Can he be trusted?” Polly asked.

“Absolutely,” the Master returned. “He’s the one who told me Bartlett was going after you. He overheard Felix bragging about his father coming to the station ahead of me to meet you.”

“So why did you bring him along?” Polly asked.

“Like you, he was most concerned about my safety,” the Master told her. “He insisted we flee the territory to get away from Bartlett.” He laughed a soft, polite laugh. “I brought him along to show him that everything was okay. I thought seeing
us together might reassure him.”

Matthew shrank back when he heard them discussing him as if he wasn’t there. But the next thing he knew, the Master offered Polly his arm and they sailed out of the train station without another thought about him.

He wasn’t sure if the Master intended his last comments as a dismissal or not, so he tagged after them to the hotel. But he made sure to keep well behind them. Even from there, he noticed the Master standing taller and straighter and more self-assured than he normally did.

The Master strutted around the village like a king surveying his domain, flipping his frock this way and that. But now—now, he held his head high like a Lord, showing the world the lady on his arm. Matthew felt quite insignificant slinking several paces behind them. And he cherished his insignificance. He groveled and worshiped the Master more fervently than ever for his lordly superiority.

At the hotel, Matthew snuck into the lobby after them to watch the Master deliver Polly to her destination. He immediately took charge of all Polly’s arrangements.

“This is Polly McLane,” he told the clerk at the front desk. “She’s checking in until Sunday morning.”

The clerk started to say, “No problem, Mr. Buchanan,” but he checked himself when he saw the Master’s expression and mumbled a modest, “Yes, sir,” instead.

The clerk entered Polly’s name in the ledger. Polly reached for the handbag hanging from her elbow, but the Master laid his hand on her arm.
“Stop. You keep your money to yourself. I’ll take care of everything.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Polly told him. “I’m quite prepared to take care of myself until Sunday.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” the Master insisted. “Now that you’re here, you’re my responsibility.” He turned back to the clerk. “You can charge all her expenses to me.”

“Yes, sir,” the clerk chirped back.

“I want you to give her the room on the second floor at the back,” the Master ordered. “The one with the double doors overlooking the church yard. She needs a large room with plenty of air and light.”

“Yes, sir,” the clerk parroted.

“And I want you to order a hearty supper for her,” the Master continued. “and a hot bath this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” the clerk replied.

“Really,” Polly whispered to the Master. “This isn’t at all necessary. I can look after myself.”

“Nonsense,” the Master replied. “Nothing is too good for you, and you’re going to be my wife, so I’ll pay for everything. You’ve traveled a long way to get here, and after the ordeal you just had, you need to relax and settle your nerves. You have a big day on Sunday. You should reserve your energies for that.”

“I’ll be quite all right,” Polly insisted.

“I only wish,” the Master continued. “
that I could stay here with you. But it wouldn’t be seemly. You need someone to protect you, just in case Bartlett comes back.”

The clerk’s head shot up at the mention of Bartlett’s name, but he said nothing. He took his keys from the hook behind the desk and came around to them. “If you’ll follow me, Miss, I’ll show you to your room.”

“And one more thing,” the Master ordered. “I’d like someone to go around to the train station and pick up Miss McLane’s luggage. You can bring it here, and I’ll pick it up Sunday afternoon.”

“Very well, sir,” the clerk replied.

The Master pressed Polly’s hand. “I’ll leave you now. You must take care of yourself until I see you again. I only regret we can’t spend more time together between now and Sunday.” His eyes flew open at a sudden thought. “Why don’t we have dinner together tomorrow night?”

“Do you really think so?” Polly exclaimed. “I would love that.”

“Wonderful,” the Master replied. “I’ll come here tomorrow evening and we’ll have dinner together.”

“Oh, thank you!” Polly cried. “Thank you for everything.”

“Think nothing of it,” the Master returned. “It’s the least I can do. You must let me know if there is anything more I can do for you before Sunday morning.” He turned back to the clerk, who waited for Polly at the foot of the stairs. “If Miss McLane requires anything at all, you’re to charge it to me immediately. You’re to spare no expense for her comfort. Do you understand me?”

The clerk bowed his head. “I understand perfectly, sir.”

The Master stared into Polly’s eyes and brought her hand up to his lips. “Until tomorrow, my dear lady. Please be well until then.”

The Master whisked out of the hotel.