Page 11 of Val (Wild Rose Ridge #1)

Chapter Ten

Val had managed to avoid Micah for the rest of the day. Nor did she see much of him over the next two days as both were busy chaperoning and trying to keep the Busy Bees out of her remaining brides’ hair. It was no mean feat.

Val slept fitfully last night, worried about her brides. Several mishaps had happened already, but that was to be expected. Still, with one of the grooms injured, things weren’t looking good, and then there was poor Marianne and Jeremy, still trying to fix things in his carpentry shop.

The next morning after breakfast, Val paid them a visit, helped with a few things, then returned to the hotel to check on her other charges. By now it was lunchtime. She spoke with Clara, Elizabeth Ann, and Cornelia, then settled at her usual table by the fireplace for a bite to eat.

Mrs. Thompson took her order and slipped back into the kitchen.

Val leaned back in her chair, cup in hand, thinking about her earlier talk with Micah and that list of possible grooms. She could just imagine what would happen if the Busy Bees ever got hold of it.

Good grief! By the time she brought another batch of brides to Wild Rose Ridge next summer, the grooms might have hightailed it out of town.

Val smiled, then pushed the thought aside.

She shouldn’t be amused by that notion. It could happen.

Clara was pacing in the lobby, the action catching Val’s attention. A moment later, voices carried through, and a cold draft entered the dining room as people filed into the hotel. She turned slightly in her chair, though she already knew who it was. She’d recognize that chatter anywhere.

“There she is ladies!”

Val fought the urge to cringe, then plastered on a smile and held it.

“Miss O’Malley,” Mrs. Schulte said, approaching the table. “Might we have a word?”

Val stretched her smile wider. “Of course! What can I do for you?”

“We’re sure to get a little snow today,” Mrs. Schulte said.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson mentioned we might get a bit.”

Mrs. Schulte stepped closer to the table just as Clara hurried out of the kitchen, through the lobby, and up the stairs. “There’s one bride who seems dreadfully fidgety since she arrived. She’s the one who bakes, isn’t she… Clara, is it? One would think she doesn’t want to be here at all.”

Val figured Mr. Sampson had probably just chased Clara out of his kitchen. “She’s in a baking mood, I’m sure, and can’t bake. That’s all it is,” she told them.

Mrs. Beck shook her head. “I don’t agree. I’ve noticed the same. Being so fidgety isn’t a quality a sheriff’s wife ought to possess, right, ladies?” She turned to the others, who quickly nodded.

Mrs. Paine tugged at her collar. “And the sheriff, of all men, needs steadiness in a wife. Why, what if she falters at some moment, like if he got shot?”

Val sat up straighter. “Heaven forbid! But that would be a critical moment, don’t you think? Make no mistake, Clara is as fine a bride as any of them and steadier than most. She’s only new here and needs time to find her footing. Give the lass a chance.”

Mrs. Hanford sniffed, adjusting her gloves. “Time won’t cure nerves, Miss O’Malley. Breeding will… or the lack of it. She’s obviously from the lower class.”

Val’s eyes narrowed. “It seems to me you had no problem matching Clara with your sheriff. As far as I know, a sheriff isn’t considered a high-society position like a banker, lumber baron, or the owner of a mine. Am I correct?”

They stared at her. Val’s spine stiffened. Breeding had nothing to do with kindness or good sense, and Clara had both. She would be a good wife to Sheriff Goodwin.

Before Mrs. Hanford could reply, Minerva Dawes stepped closer, her sister Helen at her side.

“And what of Ella then?” Minerva asked. “You do know she’s staying in that cabin of the deputy’s all on her own. Hardly proper, I say.”

“Hardly proper,” Helen echoed.

Mrs. Paine ran a hand through her hair. “It’s so far from town, and without a chaperone? Tongues will wag, Miss O’Malley.”

Val clenched her fists. “Ella has James’ daughter with her, not to mention his mother in-law, Florence.

She assured me she has her own room. Besides, James isn’t even there.

He’s working all day here in town. For heaven’s sake, that daughter of his is more company than anyone needs.

And Ella will be good company for her and his mother in-law. ”

Mrs. Beck straightened. “Appearances matter, Miss O’Malley. Don’t forget that.”

“Aye, and so does minding yer own business,” Val muttered in a heavy Irish brogue. Her accent always thickened when she was upset. Some of the women exchanged glances, but no one asked her what she’d said. Good.

Several opened their mouths to scold her, but before they could, Mrs. Schulte lowered her voice as if confiding a secret, though pitched it loud enough for the entire dining room to hear.

“And Elizabeth Ann? What can be said about her? Now she’s matched with Jasper’s brother Solomon? Goodness gracious! That hardly seems like a secure situation to me.”

Val closed her eyes a moment, unable to help it. “Yes, there have been a few, shall we say, hiccups. But everything is working out, and everyone has a partner, which means there will be weddings, just as you wanted.”

Mrs. Hanford lifted her chin. “With Jasper’s injury and that saloon girl prowling about, it’s a wonder she holds her head up at all.”

Minerva nodded vigorously. “A scandal waiting to happen, if you ask me!”

Val rose from her chair. “Elizabeth Ann’s got more sense and grit than the whole lot of us combined. She’ll weather whatever comes, and Solomon’s a fool if he doesn’t see it.” She sighed. “Can’t you trust them? They’re good young ladies! Just wait and see.”

The Bees exchanged self-satisfied looks, convinced they’d done their duty, and rustled off in a cloud of perfume and petticoats.

Val sat again, muttering to herself. “I swear if gossip were coined, the Bees would be the richest women in Oregon.”

“Good heavens,” a familiar voice said. “It seems I’ve been sitting among millionaires.”

Val smiled as she looked up into the eyes of Micah Sutton. “You heard me?”

“I did.”

“How much?” she asked.

“Enough. Mind if I join you?”

“Do I have a choice at this point? I’m just glad my food didn’t come; it’d be cold by now.”

He smiled and pulled out the chair across from her. He folded his hands atop the table like he’d been invited, which, of course, he had, but only just now. “You’ll get used to them.”

“Eventually. But I’m not sure how long that’ll take. Probably longer than the time I have left.”

“So you’re really going back to Chicago?”

He asked it with an odd tone, something that caught her attention. Not quite disappointment, but close.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “It’s nice having a woman in town of your stature and intelligence.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Stature?”

“You may be petite, Val, but you’re as tall as they come in other ways. People respect you where you come from, don’t they?”

She sat back in her chair. “Yes, they do.”

He smiled. “I heard you slip into a heavier brogue earlier. Is that something you work on? You’re not trying to hide it, are you?”

“No, of course not! But the sisters do like it when I say ‘yes’ rather than ‘aye.’ One day Margaret thought I was talking about someone’s actual eye and not just agreeing with her.

I don’t know what was wrong with her that day, but it caused quite the kerfuffle, so I’ve been working on my proper speech, let’s say. ”

“Your accent is adorable,” he said simply.

Val sucked in a tiny breath. “Goodness.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “No one’s ever called it that.”

“Well, now someone has,” he told her with a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She shrugged and looked at the table. Why did she feel so awkward all of a sudden? It wasn’t as if she cared what he thought of her. That was one of her strengths; she was her own person and liked it that way. Better yet, the sisters liked her that way too, for the most part.

“Did you already order?” he asked.

She nodded. “My food should be here any moment.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, rising. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“What is that man doing?” Val murmured aloud, but she smiled as she settled back in her chair.

When he returned, he carried a plate and set it before her. “Bon appétit,” he said, reclaiming his seat.

“Are you a waiter now?” she teased.

“Only for you. Sampson’s fixing a sandwich for me.”

“Well, that’s nice of him.”

“I still have to pay,” he added.

Val giggled, much to her own surprise, and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. That was a nice sound. A giggle.” He lifted his brows.

“Are you in the habit of rating sounds?”

“Sometimes. You wouldn’t believe how noisy it gets around here on payday.”

“Payday? Oh, goodness!” Val said. “I can imagine. I hope my brides stay away from the saloon, or rather, their grooms and husbands do.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Micah said.

Then, after a pause, “Well… mostly don’t have to worry.

” He gave a faint smile, and Val knew instantly who he was thinking of: the Rutledge brothers, Solomon and Jasper.

Jasper had gotten himself in a pickle concerning a saloon girl.

It was all over town at this point. Thank goodness his brother Solomon stepped up and offered to take his place as Elizabeth Ann’s betrothed.

Mr. Sampson came out of the kitchen and set a plate before Micah without a word. Val studied the man as he retreated through the swinging door. Quiet as ever. She supposed his food did the talking for him.

“He doesn’t converse much, does he?” she asked.

“You’ll find Wild Rose Ridge is full of interesting folk,” Micah replied. “Mr. Sampson is just one of them. A fine cook indeed. And the brides you’ve brought will be treasured additions to our community, Val. Trust me on that.”

She sighed softly. “I’m trying, Micah, really I am. But your Busy Bees, as they call themselves, are not making it easy.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Oh yes, I’m sorry about them again. At least it’s a small group. They mean well, which is why I don’t hold them too accountable. One just has to know how to handle them, that’s all.”

“And you’ve mastered that,” she stated.

His gaze lingered, thoughtful.

Val felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “Could you say a blessing, Micah?”

He looked surprised, then lowered his head. His voice, when it came, was quiet but full of strength. “Dear Lord, bless this food to our bodies. Bless Val O’Malley and the brides she’s brought to Wild Rose Ridge. Bless the men You’ve chosen as their husbands, and bless their unions. Amen.”

When he opened his eyes, Val found herself staring. She’d never heard a man pray like that, or rather, she’d never felt a man’s prayer before. It left her a little breathless.

“That was nice, Micah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and took a generous bite of his sandwich. Val did the same; as usual, she was hungrier than she realized.

Their talk wandered from one topic to the next until she finally remarked, “Winters here sound very harsh. Chicago has its share, though at least there’s civilization if you need something. Doctors, fire brigades…” She tilted her head. “Do you have a fire brigade?”

“We have something, yes.”

“That’s good to know. Where is it?”

He smiled at her, amused. “Are you worried the hotel is going to catch fire?”

“No. I just want to know in case one of the brides asks.”

“And they will ask you eventually,” Micah said. “But when they do, I expect they’ll also ask their husbands, or soon-to-be husbands. The men will want to show their ladies where they live, what they do, and how they work. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course it is. But your Busy Bees are going to be upset if the rules aren’t followed.”

“I’m sure we can make an exception here and there.” He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting. “In the meantime, there’s something else I want to discuss with you.”

Val lifted her brows. “What is it?”

“The Christmas dance,” Micah said, smiling.