Page 16 of Val (Wild Rose Ridge #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Asharp rap sounded on Micah’s front door. He was finishing his breakfast when he got up to answer it. It was early morning, and he could only imagine who it might be.

He opened the door to find Mrs. Schulte standing on the porch. Behind her, Mr. Schulte trudged up the porch steps behind her. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” she demanded.

“Oh, yes, of course. Come in, Mrs. Schulte,” Micah said, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Hmph!” She lifted her nose and swept past him. Mr. Schulte smiled at him and tipped his hat before finally stepping inside.

Micah ushered them into the kitchen where it was warm. “What can I do for you?”

“Well!” Mrs. Schulte plopped into a chair. “You can start by scolding that escort, Miss O’Malley, for us.”

Micah frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He glanced at Mr. Schulte, who stood before the cookstove, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the opposite wall. Clearly, he wasn’t going to help. Micah turned his attention back to Mrs. Schulte.

“She’s not following the rules,” she announced.

“Oh? Which rules might those be, Beatrice?”

“Now, now, Preacher Sutton. You may call me Beatrice on occasion, but at the moment I prefer Mrs. Schulte.” Her eyes narrowed.

“And why is that?”

“Because it pleases me,” she said primly. “That’s neither here nor there. She’s not following the rules. I know for a fact that on several occasions her brides have been seen with their betrothed, alone.”

“Is that so?” Micah said, unconcerned.

“Yes! Alone in the general store, for one. The café for another. The hotel parlor. The tailor’s shop…” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, it’s a scandal! Adelaide will faint when she hears. She’s of a delicate nature, you know. She doesn’t take such things well.”

“Yes, I know,” he said dryly. “But tell me, when a couple was seen in the general store, was Phineas there?”

“Of course! He runs the place.”

“Then they weren’t alone. They had Phineas.”

“That’s not the same thing,” she practically whined. “They need a proper chaperone, like myself, or you, or one of my ladies.”

“Your Bees, you mean?”

“Exactly. What’s wrong with that? But they were busy with other things. The meeting hall to decorate, arrangements to make…”

“And the tailor shop?” Micah interrupted. “How would anyone know they were alone unless they were in there as well?”

She sputtered, color rising to her cheeks.

Micah chuckled, catching the way Mr. Schulte’s shoulders shook. No doubt the man’s shaking wasn’t from the cold.

“Well, if you’re not going to do anything about it, I’ll have to find someone else to stand up for what’s right,” she declared.

Micah fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Schulte, if these couples are in public places such as the general store, the café, even the tailor shop, then people are around. Everyone knows who’s to be married. It’s only scandal if they’re alone in a bride’s room.”

“ And what about the bride betrothed to Deputy Garrison?”

“ She’s at his cabin, yes, but with Luisa, his daughter, and does not share a room with him. His mother in-law is there besides.”

“Well, I suppose,” she conceded grudgingly.

“Exactly. They know better.”

“Well, fine.”

“And anything else to report?” Micah asked, studying his fingernails.

“No, that’s it.” She leaned forward. “But what are you going to do about it?”

“I suppose I’ll talk to the grooms, make sure everything is proper and they’re being gentlemen. If they’re not, all I need do is ask the brides. I’m sure they’ll tell me if they haven’t already told Miss O’Malley.”

Mrs. Schulte bit her lower lip and darted a glance at her husband, who was still standing before the stove, silently chuckling.

“Well, I just wanted you to know the rules aren’t being followed.”

“Is that the only rule?” Micah asked with a smile. “There’s a curfew, you know. They’re supposed to be in their rooms by nine. Are they?” He drawled the question.

“Well, I… uh…”

“Have you asked Mrs. Thompson or Miss O’Malley?”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

Micah shot a look at Mr. Schulte, who had a fist pressed to his mouth to keep from laughing. The poor man. What he must put up with at home. Micah gave him a warning glance, and Mr. Schulte quickly straightened and cleared his throat.

Mrs. Schulte remained oblivious.

“I suppose I could ask Mrs. Thompson or Miss O’Malley if the brides are following the curfew,” Micah said.

“Respectability is all that matters, Preacher Sutton,” she said with great importance. “We want this town to thrive, and we’re going to make sure the Christmas dance and the weddings are proper. We’ll have no nonsense. Isn’t that right, Mr. Schulte?”

Her husband cleared his throat. “Oh yes, Beatrice, quite right. No spiking the punch.”

“Don’t even suggest such a thing!” she cried.

Micah smiled faintly. “Thank you for coming and informing me of this possible scandal,” he said, his words edged with a sigh.

“Well, of course it’s our civic duty.” Mrs. Schulte rose from the chair and marched across the kitchen, ready to leave.

Mr. Schulte lingered by the cookstove a moment longer.

“I’d like to spike the punch,” he muttered. “I think we’re going to need it this year.”

Micah laughed. “Carry on, Mr. Schulte.” He slapped the man on the shoulder.

Mr. Schulte gave him a nod and followed his wife out. Micah watched them head back to town, shook his head, then returned to the kitchen.

He tidied up, then stepped next door to the church to jot a few notes for his sermon before heading to the hotel to check on Val and her brides.

By now they should have had breakfast, and some may even have left to spend time with their betrothed.

He hoped none were frightened off by the Busy Bees and made a mental note to remind the husbands-to-be not to let the Bees sting too sharply.

Well-meaning though they were, the way they went about things wasn’t always the best.

Micah made his way toward the main part of town, greeting folks out tending to business. When he reached the hotel, Val sat at her usual table in the dining room, finishing a late breakfast. Had she been up late and slept in?

He approached with a smile. “Good morning, Val.”

She looked up and smiled back, much to his delight. “Would you like to join me?” She motioned to the chair opposite.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack near the entrance. “Late breakfast, I see?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I overslept a wee bit. I was up reading.” She nodded toward the parlor.

“Yes, I know. In the parlor.” He grinned. “How late did you stay up?”

“Later than I should,” she admitted, taking another bite. When she swallowed, she looked him in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I already had my breakfast, and a couple of visitors.”

She stopped eating, fork halfway to her mouth. “Who was it?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table. “Mrs. Schulte paid me a visit this morning. Mr. Schulte came with her.”

“What?” Val dropped her fork, then quickly scooped it back up. “What did they want?”

“Well…” he drawled, “they say you’re breaking the rules.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! And what rules does she accuse me of breaking?”

“Your brides are apparently unchaperoned.” His tone carried a hint of amusement.

“Ha!” Val cut him off. “Those Busy Bees won’t leave my poor girls alone! They’re driving them plumb loco. They can’t make a move without one of them buzzing around. Just as I thought. And it’s awful hard to be alone in this town, everywhere you go there’s somebody.”

“True enough,” he said.

“For heaven’s sake, if a young lady and gentleman can’t stroll arm-in-arm up and down the street, then I don’t know what your town has to offer.”

“Oh, it has plenty. Of course, it’s not Chicago. But I still think your brides are going to be very happy here.”

Val sat back and tapped her fork against the edge of her plate. “What else did they say?”

“Well, let me think…” He rested his elbows on the table. “Curfew hasn’t been followed, though Mrs. Schulte admitted she had no proof.”

“Of course she doesn’t!” Val huffed. “It’s not like any of her lot are around after nine o’clock.”

“True.”

“She just makes a general fuss to do it.”

“You know how she is.”

“Yes,” Val sighed. “I’m quickly learning. If anything’s going to drive my brides back to Chicago, it’ll be Beatrice Schulte.”

Micah’s shoulders shook with silent mirth. “You know, you’re quite adorable when you’re riled up.”

“I’m not riled up,” she snapped. “I’m losing patience with a certain overbearing, big-bustled woman.”

“That’s one way of describing her.” He glanced around to be sure no one was listening. “Really, she means well. She just goes about it differently, that’s all.”

“Well, she needs to learn the right way. She’s lucky no one’s shot her yet.”

“Trust me, Mrs. Schulte learned not to bother the men too much. Except, of course, the ones who put in for a mail-order bride. You should’ve seen what she put them through.”

“I can only imagine,” Val said with an eye roll. She took another bite, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “Did she accuse me of anything else?”

“No, not really. She was accusing all of you but named you first.”

“Oh, that woman!” Val let her fork drop again. “How am I going to appease her? Or do I even want to?”

“Well, you could always volunteer to help her decorate the meeting hall for the Christmas dance. If your brides joined in, it would make Beatrice very happy.” He smiled and winked.

“What are you planning, Micah Sutton?” Val’s voice was laced with suspicion.

He held up both hands. “I’m just trying to keep the peace, that’s all. No nefarious plans on my part,” he said, pressing his lips together.

She eyed him. “Why do I not believe you?”

He laughed. “You’re getting to know me, Val O’Malley. I like that.”

“Do you? Well then, I think it’s time I volunteer to help Beatrice Schulte decorate for the Christmas dance.”