The Bartender's Mail Order Bride (8 page)

M
eg had been completely
positive that she was making the right decision when she wrote to Sam, so her reaction now was disconcerting to her. Her palms began to sweat and her heart just wouldn’t go back to a normal rhythm.

“Hello, Nutmeg,” her father said. He’d taken off his hat and held it in front of his chest, his dark hair with gray at his temples combed neatly.

“Hello, Papa,” she said, encouraged that his tone was calm and that she saw no fire in his eyes—at the moment, anyway.

“Good afternoon, Suzanne.” Beau nodded to Suzanne, who smiled in return, but kept glancing at Sam and James across the room.

Beau followed her eyes. “Ah, I see your…Mr. Allen is here.”

Sam looked up from the array of hardware James was describing and his eyes moved from Meg to Suzanne and rested on Beau. Meg felt a sense of relief as he excused himself from James and came to her side. She knew her father had a huge heart and was just big and blustery when things confused him, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

“Hello, Sam.” He held out his hand for Sam to shake. Sam took a quick look at Meg and reached out, giving his new father-in-law’s hand a hearty shake.

Meg felt a little spark of hope in her chest and she smiled. “Papa, what brings you here?”

“Oh, I saw Sam’s buggy outside and was hoping that you were here. Haven’t talked to you since the…well, since yesterday. Seems like it’s been much longer. I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you.”

“Oh, Papa, I—”

Beau held up his hand, quieting her. “Please, Nutmeg, I really came just to speak with you for a moment. Sam, might it be all right if I take my daughter next door to the Occidental? Maybe for a cup of tea?”

“You don’t need to ask my permiss—” Sam started, but Beau cut him off as well.

“It would be proper, as you’re her husband.”

Sam appeared incredibly uncomfortable and turned to Meg for an answer to that question. She smiled and turned back to her father.

“I would be happy to join you,” she said, and Suzanne let out a whoosh of breath from behind her.

“We won’t be long,” Beau said as he held out his arm and escorted Meg out the door.

Meg took a quick look back before the door closed, and smiled as she saw James, Suzanne and Sam all in a row, their mouths open and eyes wide.

Neither spoke while they entered the Occidental, Sadie equally as surprised to see them together as her twin sister had been if the look on her face was any sign.

She looked questioningly at Meg as she followed Beau to his regular table, and Meg shrugged. Anybody’s guess would be as good as hers as to what was going to happen next, but she followed along, actually a bit anxious to find out what he
was
going to say, knowing it would have great impact on her future. Would she be able to see her sisters? How upset was he, really?

After her father had pulled out her chair and scooted her in, he sat down across from her and laid his hat on the chair next to him.

“What can I get for you two,” Sadie said, and Meg could tell she was trying to sound light and cheerful, belying her furrowed brow.

“Meg?” her father said as he placed his napkin in his lap.

“I’ll just have tea, Sadie, and a piece of your delicious berry pie, if you have any. Papa, would you share it with me?”

Beau smiled and nodded. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse. And tea for me, too, please.”

Meg watched Sadie retreat to the kitchen behind Beau, and covered her smile with her hand as she saw Sadie hold up crossed fingers before she went into the kitchen.

Beau let out a sigh. “I suppose you wonder why I’ve asked you here.”

“I have been a little curious, yes.” She rested her hands in her lap, inwardly smiling at his obvious discomfort.

“Well, I’ve had some time to think about all of this. Actually, I’ve had some help thinking about it, too. Everyone in the house seems to think I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t heard the end of it. Even Maria thinks so.”

Meg smiled at the thought of their long-time housekeeper shaking her finger at her father and rattling off both Spanish and English. If anybody could get through to her father since Meg’s mother had died, it would be Maria.

“Oh? And what do they think?”

He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Well, they all seem to think that this is exactly what you want, and that I should ask you myself.”

“It is, Papa. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time,” Meg said, her hands in her lap and her gaze steady on her father.

Their eyes met, and Meg held fast, refusing to look away. This was her life, hers and Sam’s, and she hoped to help her father understand that.

“So I’ve been told. More than once.”

“And you’d like to hear it one more time? From me?” Meg said.

“Yes, Meg. I need to hear from you why you wanted to leave our home. I thought you were happy. I know I haven’t been quite myself since your mother died, but I thought we all were doing all right.”

“Oh, Papa, is that what you’ve been thinking,” she said as a lump formed in her throat. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might take her decision personally. “I love my family, and I miss you all, too.”

“Then why?” He reached across the table and took her hand in his.

Meg’s stomach dropped at his gesture. She hadn’t practiced for this, not even in her daydreams. “Nobody seemed to notice, but I’ve been in love with Sam for a long time. And when he advertised for a bride, I figured it was my only chance, as you forbid me from seeing suitors.”

He sat back in his chair, his surprise evident. “I did this?”

“No, not exactly. Well, maybe. Oh, I don’t know.” She laughed as she knew she wasn’t making any sense, and relief washed over her as he laughed, as well.

He held both his palms up at her. “Fair enough. I agree that I was…less than open to discussion about you having suitors. I have to admit, it was a big surprise.”

“A surprise? Papa, I’ve been of age for years.”

“Nutmeg, I think that I’ve lost the years since your mama died.”

A flash of her mother’s beautiful smile swept by her eyes as her father twisted his wedding ring on his finger, a habit she knew was provoked by her mother’s memory. As tears prickled behind her eyelids, she said, “I feel the same way, Papa, but it’s time.”

“I swear, last weekend you were outside playing in the mud with Hank and your sisters. At least I still think of you that way.

Meg’s heart tugged at the sadness in her father’s eyes. “I understand, Papa, but life has gone on. I’ve grown up. And I love Sam. He’s a good man, and I’m happy.”

Beau sighed. “I have to admit, as he’s been Hank’s friend for so long, I can vouch for that part. He definitely is a good man. And if this is what you want…”

“Oh, Papa. Thank you,” Meg exclaimed, just as Sadie delivered their pie and tea. She looked up and Sadie winked at her, likely having heard the last part of their conversation.

Beau smiled as Sadie returned to the kitchen. “Can you explain to me why he’s done this? I don’t understand why he needed a bride. I suppose I hadn’t been paying attention to that, either.”

“No, it appears you weren’t, as usual. If it didn’t involve the ranch—”

He held his hands up again in surrender. “I understand. But I am sorry, so can you fill me in now?”

Meg told him what she knew—that Sam’s mother believed he had a wife and a business, and he, for some reason, didn’t want to disappoint her and tell her the truth. And that the only way he could keep her happy was to get married. She also explained the plan they’d made about pretending to own the mercantile.

“Woo-wee, you two are going to have a big challenge there,” he said and whistled.

“It does seem like it could be tough to do, but we’ve been studying about each other, to make sure it seems like we’ve been married for a long time.”

“So, Hank tells me this isn’t a ‘real’ marriage…I mean…”

Meg felt heat rise in her cheeks. “My private life is—”

“I guess I just meant…well…might you come home afterward? After she leaves?”

Meg’s brows scrunched together. That thought hadn’t even occurred to her. She intended to be Sam’s wife, with him eventually realizing that they were perfect for each other and have a family.

“No, that is not a possibility,” she said, sitting up straighter in her chair as she finished the last bite of the berry pie.

Her father smiled, set his fork down and signaled to Sadie for the check. “All right, young lady. I won’t get in your way.” Beau paid the bill and held out his arm once again for Meg and they walked back over to the mercantile.

The tension in the room eased as Meg closed the door behind her, her father needing to head to an appointment.

Sam walked to her side, his curiosity plain to see. “Well?” he asked. “How did it go?”

“It appears that we don’t have an enemy, but not exactly a supporter, either. Not yet, anyway, but he isn’t going to argue.”

Sam wiped the sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief. Meg’s stomach clenched at his concern, and she was again convinced that this was the best idea she’d ever had. If, she thought, they could actually fool his mother.

A
s Meg pulled
herself up into the buggy, she thought her nerves might just jangle her to bits and as Sam untied the reins from the post, she knew he couldn’t have gotten much more sleep than she had.

How had this day come so fast? Mrs. Allen’s stagecoach was due in less than an hour, and although she and Sam had practiced many times—he’d called her a taskmaster at one point, although he was laughing at the time—they still didn’t know all that much about each other.

It had taken time for her to familiarize herself with the house, for one thing. She knew it wouldn’t do for her to fumble for things if her new mother-in-law needed something, or heaven forbid wanted to help her cook. What if she hadn’t known where the potatoes were? Or the flour? Or the pots? So after her first tour, she’d spent extra time just searching through cupboards and drawers so she’d at least have some idea of the contents of what was supposed to be her house.

As the buggy bounced toward the train station in the rutted dirt road, she hoped it would make a difference. She very much wanted this to be a success, and although she hadn’t made any inroads as to
why
it was so important, she had found out that Sam had a brother—a very successful brother who was a doctor—and had an inkling that that piece of information might have something to do with this ruse.

Sam held the reins tightly and stared straight ahead, his lips a thin line. They had a bit of a drive ahead of them, so she pulled out the paper with her questions and answers on it and said, “Could you go for another round?” She waved the paper in his direction as he turned and groaned.

“I don’t think I can do another one. I don’t mean that it isn’t interesting,” he said quickly, turning to catch her eye.

Meg laughed. “Interesting isn’t the purpose right now, I’m afraid. Let’s just do a few more.”

“All right, shoot,” Sam said. He held the reins in one hand for a moment and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure I know everything by now.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Let’s try this one. What is my favorite color? That’s easy.”

“Red?”

She tapped his arm playfully and said, “Sam. You know that one. What color was my wedding dress?”

“Oh, purple.” He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to Meg. “Maybe I’m just nervous. I did know that one.”

She looked at the list again. With Sam’s mother arriving shortly, it probably was too late to learn anything new, and they’d practiced as much as they could. She slowly folded up the paper and returned it to her pocket, hoping for the best.

“We’ve been so busy I haven’t really gotten a chance to hear much about your mother. That would be helpful, too.”

Sam pushed his hat back on his head. “Hm, what to say about Mother.”

Meg waited patiently. It wouldn’t do to push him. If he’d wanted to tell her much more than he had, he would have already. But now, when meeting his mother and beginning their charade was imminent, it was worth asking one more time.

“You know that I have a brother and that he’s a doctor.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t tell me much about you or your mother,” she said, her hands folded in her lap as she waited.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. My mother is a very kind, charming, funny woman. She was a good mother and supported us as children in every way you could imagine.”

She clasped her hands together tightly as she thought of her own mother, who was exactly like Sam described his mother to be.

He glanced over at her quickly and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Meg. I remember your mother quite fondly, too. My mother is much like yours.”

She lowered her head, surprised at the overwhelming emotion she was feeling. It had been a while since her mother had passed, and it had become easier—but now, with Sam’s mother arriving, it somehow felt fresh, new.

“Thank you, Sam. That’s a nice compliment. My mother was fond of you, too.” She rested her hand on his arm, willing her emotions back in the box they rested in most of the time in her head.

“Back to your mother—you said she was very supportive and kind. What caused you to leave New York and head West?”

Finally, the next question she’d been hesitant to ask. Sam hadn’t volunteered the information and, again, she hadn’t wanted to pry, but she worried that it would be one of the important things she’d be expected to know.

She turned to face him, giving his arm a slight squeeze of encouragement.

Sam pursed his lips and pulled his hat further down his forehead.

“It wasn’t so much that I wanted to. My brother had left for college and I was working in a—well, I’m not sure how to explain it. I’d told my parents what kind of career I wanted to have. My father didn’t agree.”

“Oh, but your mother did?”

“She did, but my father was most formidable when he made up his mind.”

“I don’t understand. What is it that your father wanted you to do?”

“Meg, do you think maybe we could leave this topic alone? It was a very difficult period, and I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Meg’s heart sunk. How could he not want to share that with her? It seemed to her it would definitely be something she should know about her husband of several years. One look at his face, though, helped her to decide not to press the issue. He gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white, and she felt sadness radiate from him.

“I’m sorry, Sam. So you came West to start that career that your father didn’t want you to have? As a bartender?”

Sam turned to look at Meg, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Bartender? Oh, no, that’s not what I’d intended to do. I tried to get a job at what I loved, but it didn’t work out. I fell into tending bar and worked mostly in the saloons in town.”

“How did you end up at the Occidental, then?”

“I’d become friends with Hank and Tripp, and when the restaurant was ready to open, Tripp and Sadie asked me to come over. So I did.”

Meg now had a little more information, as meager as it was. Her curiosity had been even more piqued by now. How would she ever find out? She couldn’t ask his mother. But the pain radiated from her husband, and she knew it was something she’d need to find out somehow.

She had come to know Sam fairly well, she had thought, from his time at the ranch. He had always been joyful, full of laughter and spontaneity. With this topic, he’d become silent and withdrawn.

She thought it best that the
other
Sam be the one to greet his mother, so she changed the subject to much lighter things for the remainder of the journey, but the nagging curiosity never left the back of her mind.

“Just another little bit,” Sam said as they neared the stagecoach station.

The weekly stagecoach trips from Benson could sometimes be quite crowded and dusty, and Meg knew Sam had offered to fetch his mother to avoid the stagecoach altogether, and that she had declined, saying, “What kind of adventurer would I be if I can’t make that trip on my own? I’ll be fine. Will meet you in Tombstone.”

“I think it’s rather brave of your mother to travel this distance alone, especially after the loss of your father.”

She kicked herself for bringing up another troubling topic as the frown returned to Sam’s face.

“Yes. Yes, it is. My mother is nothing if not brave.” Could she be brave, if she let his father change his desires?

Meg wondered what type of person she’d meet in minutes as the stagecoach rumbled toward them. She sincerely hoped that his mother would like her—and also that Meg would like Mrs. Allen. She took a deep breath and released it, readying herself for what was to come.