A Bride in the Bargain Part 3

Mr. Conant recovered first, a look of amus.e.m.e.nt touching his eyes. "This is what may be called the free and easy style of introductions, but if you have no objection, miss, perhaps I should a.s.sist you to your berth."

Anna sprang from his arms. "Water is pouring in belowdecks."

"Stay here." He disappeared, but she couldn't sit still and do nothing. From the sounds of it, the entire s.h.i.+pload of pa.s.sengers was seasick. Why she hadn't been afflicted with the same calamity, she didn't know. But she knew the crew would have their hands full with the storm. The least she could do was help with the women.

And help she did. The water that had doused her turned out to be no more than a porthole that hadn't been properly secured. And after the captain changed the s.h.i.+p's course, the rolling became easier, but the sea was by no means smooth.

They'd been out for three days, and the majority of pa.s.sengers still suffered ill effects. Even though it was only noon, Anna settled a pale young widow into her berth, then soundlessly closed the door behind her and headed to the upper deck for some air.

Walking along the portside, she took deep breaths. Gray clouds bunched and dipped, spraying the deck with mist. Surely the entire voyage wouldn't be this unpleasant.

A small, fragile-looking woman who had to be at least sixty staggered into Anna's path. Placing both hands across her stomach, the woman crouched over.

Anna seized her by the armpits and hurried her to the railing, holding her while she cast her bread upon the waters. After several forceful episodes, the woman finally straightened.

Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, Anna handed it to her, only then realizing her bread wasn't the only thing the woman had cast overboard. For her teeth had completely disappeared.

Anna scanned the water several hundred yards below. It frothed and churned, slamming itself against the side of the s.h.i.+p. No false teeth in sight.

"Tank you," the woman breathed, before slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Anna swallowed. "Don't be alarmed. I'm sure there are dentists in the Northwest."

The woman searched the greedy water below. "Wat am I to do? How will I eat?"

Slipping her arm about the woman, Anna helped her to a chair nearby. "I will speak with the cook right away and make arrangements for you."

"Oh no, no, no. How will I eber find a husband now?"

Anna choked back her surprise. A husband? Even with teeth, this woman would be hard-pressed to find a spouse at her age.

Tiny brown eyes the size of coffee beans looked at Anna from beneath heavily creased eyelids. "Mr. Mercer promised me a husband."

"Well," Anna said, scrambling for an appropriate response, "I cannot imagine why he would promise such a thing. Perhaps you misunderstood. The pa.s.sengers are guaranteed positions as teachers, domestics, or nannies. Not wives."

The woman waved away Anna's words. "How can we teach children when dere are none? Only men. Men who want wibes." Having never considered that bit of logic, Anna didn't know quite what to say. Relief rushed through her, though, at the realization that her position as a cook was not dependent on children being present. No room for confusion there.

She patted the woman's hand. "Well, no need to rush into anything. The time it takes for new teeth to be made will be just the time you need to consider your matrimonial possibilities."

The old woman's eyes filled. "You don't understand. My dear husband, Clement, neber came home from the war. I have nutting left. I need a husband right away."

Anna squatted down in front of her. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My brother and father both died in the war, too, and my mother died not long after."

"You're all alone?"

Anna nodded. "I will never forget the day their names appeared on the casualty list in the newspaper. But we aren't all alone, you and I. We have G.o.d, and now we have each other."

Tears began to stream from the woman's eyes, branching off into numerous tributaries as they traversed her wrinkled face. "Tank you, my dear."

"There, there."

She blew her nose into the handkerchief. "What is your name?"

"Miss Anna Ivey of Granby, Ma.s.sachusetts."

"It is so nice to meet you, Miss Ibey. I'm Mrs. Bert-a Wrenne of Lowell, Ma.s.sa-chewits."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Wrenne, I'm sure."

THE WALA WALA STATESMAN.

Mercer and his bevy of Ma.s.sachusetts damsels are now anch.o.r.ed off the coast of Rio de Janeiro. It won't be long before they, armed with green reticules, blank marriage certificates and photographs of Ben Butler-to hang on the andirons to keep their babies out of the fire-will be rounding the Horn and bounding over the watery reflections in search of a market for their kisses.

Seattle, Was.h.i.+ngton Territory March 1, 1866 "They haven't even made it to the Straits of Magellan yet," Joe said, tossing a newspaper on Judge Rountree's desk. "It will take them two months at least to reach Seattle, maybe more. I need an extension."

"Tillney's not going to be happy about this."

"I couldn't care less what Tillney says. I paid Mercer for a bride almost a year ago. He said he'd be back in six months. It's not my fault he ran into such difficulties securing a vessel."

"No, it's never your fault, is it, Denton?"

Joe narrowed his eyes. "As a matter of fact, it isn't."

Rountree handed him back the newspaper. "Well, you'd better marry that gal the minute her slippered feet hit this sh.o.r.e. You understand?"

"I understand."

THE ALTA CALIFORNIA.

The only thing Mr. Mercer has to fear, so far as I can see, is that in case the girls are young and pretty, they may be snapped up by some of your wifeless young men in the ports of call. . . .

Lota, Chile April 13, 1866 Anna tapped lightly on Mrs. Wrenne's door. "Mr. Mercer has called a meeting for nine o'clock. We mustn't be late."

The elderly woman stepped out, her eyes alive with excitement. "Hab you been on deck yet?"

"I have. And you must come and see." Anna took the lady's arm, a.s.sisting her up the steps. "Lota is a lovely little valley situated between two high bluffs."

"Oh, I can hardly wait to get off dis boat."

"Me too. But we shall have to wait in line, I'm afraid. I've been made to understand that it is a great market day in Lota. So everyone is determined to go ash.o.r.e."

Smiling faces and bursts of laughter greeted them on the hurricane deck. After so many long and weary days of unbroken sea, the sight of land was arousing and invigorating.

Mercer clapped his hands, signaling a start of their meeting. "As you ladies know, I am deeply interested in your welfare. So much so, I cannot bear to have you out of my sight for even a single moment."

Anna lifted a questioning brow. He'd claimed more than once that no man living was so near Mount Zion as he himself, but she'd had her doubts ever since he'd called the ladies into his stateroom one by one for the purpose of extracting more money.

"I cannot sign a note for two hundred and fifty, sir," she'd told him when it was her turn. "You promised pa.s.sage to me for fifty dollars, payable by my employer upon my arrival in Seattle."

"I'm afraid I miscalculated and have borne great expense on your behalf."

"I find that extremely hard to believe. In any case, we have a signed contract and I will agree to no more."

Crossing his hands atop his desk, he offered her a placating smile. "Now, Miss Ivey, I am only asking to be recompensed for actual costs incurred. I cannot see what possible objection you have when in all probability you will get a husband as soon as we arrive at our destination, and he would, I'm sure, be more than happy to cover any incidentals."

She shook her head. "Two hundred fifty dollars is not incidental. Furthermore, I have no intention of marrying."

His eyes widened with alarm. "You have no intention of marrying?"

"Certainly not. Nor do I intend to place a more significant financial burden on my employer."

"But your employer can afford it."

"I don't care if his pockets are lined with gold. According to our contract, the cost of my pa.s.sage is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars it will remain." Turning, she'd swept out of the stateroom.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Wrenne had not fared so well. Mercer had a.s.sured her that he had a nice farmer lined up for her who had promised to take whomever he brought-teeth or no teeth. Mrs. Wrenne happily signed the two-hundred-fifty-dollar note. Just thinking about it rekindled Anna's anger-and her distrust of the man.

"I have learned," he was now saying on deck, "that cholera and smallpox are raging in Lota. It would be most unsafe for any of you to go on sh.o.r.e."

Murmurs of distress rippled through the crowd.

He held up his hands for silence. "Now, as much as I hate to place any severe restrictions upon you, I want you to distinctly understand that you are not to go on sh.o.r.e in the company of any gentleman other than myself."

Anna frowned. If the conditions in Lota were unhealthy, then having Mr. Mercer with them wouldn't make an iota of difference.

By afternoon, when a boatload of das.h.i.+ng Chilean officers and gentlemen rowed next to the steams.h.i.+p, Anna realized Mr. Mercer's objections. The Chilean men would in all likelihood woo his pa.s.sengers away.

She felt a touch of sympathy for him as he tried to keep the men off the boat. He had, after all, worked very hard on this emigration scheme of his.

"These officers have designs on you," he frantically told the women. "If you give them any chance at all, it is certain to prove your ruin."

His warnings did not, however, keep the girls from welcoming the men on board. By the time they were ready to pull up anchor a week later, several had bowed at Cupid's knee.

THE MORNING CAL.

The surplus sweetness of Ma.s.sachusetts spinsterhood is soon to be wasted on the desert air of W.T. for the relief of territorial bachelors who now darn their buckskin breeches and d-n their hours of solitude. . . .

San Francisco, California June 4, 1866 Anna rushed to the upper deck with the rest of the ladies for her first glimpse of the promised land. Hanging on to the rail, the wind whipped against her face, bringing the taste of salt with it.

They pa.s.sed through the Golden Gate and all powers of speech failed her. Not because she was taken by California's beauty, but because she was horrified.

Nothing but brown in every direction. The hills were brown. The islands were brown. Even the town was brown. It was nothing like the pine forests and rich wilderness she'd imagined.

She scanned the entire coastline but couldn't spot a single tree.

"I hab neber seen anyting so ugly in my life," Mrs. Wrenne said.

Anna glanced at the wharves rapidly filling with scruffy-looking miners whooping and waving. "The men or the landscape?"

"Bof."

Even as they spoke, the men piled into rowboats and began to make their way toward the steamer.

THE IDAHO WORLD.

The s.h.i.+p is drawing near Seattle's port. Notice has been sent to the long-haired miners and rich bachelors of that auriferous section. The girls have been bathed by squads, platoons and brigades; their best raiment has been put on.

Was.h.i.+ngton Territory July 8, 1866 Joe took one last glance around the home he'd built for Lorraine. She'd argued strongly against their coming out west, but he'd felt sure it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them, the likes of which they'd never see in Maine. As a compromise, he came over first to see if it was all he'd expected it to be. It was that and more.

So he'd sent for her, then worked hard to prepare a place, building what was still one of the finest houses in the Territory. He'd even planted a chestnut tree like the one in her parents' yard in Maine. The only thing he hadn't done was add the feminine particulars, like wallpaper, curtains, and such. He'd thought to save that for her.

But she'd delayed her arrival, making excuse after excuse for not joining him. And the longer she'd stayed away, the more betrayed he'd felt. And the more betrayed he'd felt, the more the land had seeped into his heart, his soul, until it had eventually replaced the spot that had once been hers.

It offered him company when he was lonely, solace when he was sad. It was steady, reliable, faithful, and beautiful. It became all he needed, all he ever wanted, to the point that even if Lorraine had actually arrived, she wouldn't have been able to reclaim that part of him that had once been hers.

And neither would some ready-made bride he'd paid three hundred dollars for. He'd marry whomever Mercer brought him, but only to save his land. In exchange for that, he'd give her a roof over her head, food for her belly, and all the pretty dresses she wanted. But he wouldn't trust her with his heart. That belonged to his land.

Still, he didn't want her to feel unwelcome. So he'd scrubbed his bachelor quarters from top to bottom, repaired the s.h.i.+ngles, fixed the drafts, and piped spring water into the milk room to act as a natural cooling system. The merchant's wife at Fort Nisqually had ordered wallpaper, rugs, furniture, and even lace curtains for him.

He hadn't adjusted very well to the resulting transformation. All the niceties made him feel big and clumsy. He liked it better when things were simple. But nothing would be simple after tomorrow.

His gaze moved to the cup of wild flowers on the table. He'd placed them all over the house. It was the only welcoming gesture he could think of. If the boys ever discovered he'd succ.u.mbed to such sentimentality, he'd never hear the end of it.

But he had to do something. His bride would most likely feel frightened and out of place. He'd been here for eleven years. He knew all the folks in town. He was accustomed to the rain. He was used to the quiet.

Not so her. The move out west would be difficult. So he'd fixed up the house and stuck a few wild flowers here and there. He was only doing what he'd do for anybody.

He couldn't help but think it should have been Lorraine, though. If he had to have a bride, it could have at least been the one of his choosing.

Settling his hat on his head, he shook off the thought. They'd married only weeks after meeting, and he'd come to Seattle shortly after. He'd not really known her all that long, and because he'd felt so betrayed, he hadn't spent a great deal of time mourning her death. No need to dredge it up now.

Turning, he let himself out and headed to the barn. If he was bringing a woman home, he'd need to hitch up the wagon.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Seattle, Was.h.i.+ngton Territory July 9, 1866 Situated in a small clearing a quarter of a mile wide and a mile long, Seattle beckoned to Anna's travel-weary soul. She, Mrs. Wrenne, and two other women from the Continental caught their first view of the quaint little hamlet from the side of a plunger, christened Maria.

Anna swallowed, antic.i.p.ation and trepidation warring within her. The thick pine forests she'd dreamed of had been in evidence all along the banks of the Puget Sound and now sheltered the perimeter of her new home.

What she hadn't expected, though, was to be able to see the Cascade Mountains far in the distance, accentuated by Mount Rainier reigning tall and proud to the south. She had read about the grand mountain in Mercer's pamphlet, and briefly wondered if snow frosted its majestic peak all year round.