Page 8 of Val (Wild Rose Ridge #1)

Chapter Seven

The next day, Val rose early. She had much to do. Yesterday had been more than she bargained for. It wasn’t just a couple of weddings crossed off her list. Other things had happened that scrambled her brain, things she didn’t want to think about until she’d had a strong cup of coffee.

You know you don’t think well without it, Augusta’s voice chimed in her head.

And neither do the lot of you, she retorted. She could almost hear the sisters giggling at her. Maybe they were, at this very moment. Val didn’t care. She had work to do, and thankfully Augusta, Margaret, and Josie weren’t here, or she’d be babysitting the troublemakers as usual.

Val dressed, washed her face, fixed her hair, and went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. Several of her ladies were already there, and she gave them a curt nod before choosing a table near the fireplace. Perhaps she’d finally get warm.

Val ticked off a list in her head. She was out of thread and needed a few other supplies. The brides were always tearing hems or losing buttons, and Val was more than happy to mend things. It gave her something to do. Ella offered as well, but if Val could get to the mending first, she was content.

Ella, however, was also on her list of concerns.

What had happened the day of the tea had been horrendous.

Bernadette stomping off, Jasper Rutledge’s brother Solomon showing up in Jasper’s stead.

Not that that was so bad. He was sure Jasper’s delay was nothing to worry about.

Still each bride was reeling in her own way.

Then that church service… oh my! She prayed no more dead mice turned up anywhere.

Val smiled faintly, remembering Ima Paine swooning, then shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about such things.

“Good morning,” came a male voice.

Val looked up. “Good morning, Preacher Sutton.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

She did but didn’t want to be rude. “Not at all. Go ahead and have a seat.”

Mrs. Thompson, who managed the hotel with her husband Albert, came to take their orders and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Well, what do you have planned today?” Micah asked. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Jasper Rutledge.”

“Jasper?” she said. “Good heavens, what’s happened?”

“He’s hurt, that’s all I know. He’s with Doc Paine now.”

“One more thing to add to my list. Well, there’s no help for it, I suppose.” She stared at the table, wishing he’d go away. But he didn’t. Instead, she asked the silliest thing. “Does it snow much here?”

He laughed. “Are you bothered by something, Miss O’Malley? It’s not what Beatrice Schulte and her friends were talking about yesterday, is it?”

“Don’t be silly,” she shot back. “I’ve forgotten all about that conversation.”

He gave her a playful smirk. “Have you now? Well then, let me remind you. They suggested you help them pick out some single gentlemen for possible matches.”

She shut her eyes a moment. “Ah yes, that.” When she opened them, he was smiling at her. “And you were to help me, right?”

He nodded. “I was. It’s one of the reasons I sought you out this morning. I was wondering when we could get together. I thought of a list of gentlemen last night and wrote them down. We could go over them.”

“Do you have the list with you?”

“I do. But let’s eat first, and then I can show you around Wild Rose Ridge and give you a better idea of the kind of life a bride would have here. I think it would help.”

Help? She thought about it. He had a point. If she knew more about the town, she could better prepare prospective brides. At least they’d know exactly what they were stepping into.

She met his gaze. “All right then, you can show me around. I need a few things anyway, so a trip to the general store would be good.”

“Perfect! After breakfast I’ll take you. You don’t want to be unescorted.”

Her brows rose. “And why not?”

He looked her up and down. “As I told you last night, there are some rough men in this town. Granted, most are working at the moment, a good thing, but still, some linger about. A few come down from the logging camps and the mines while it’s still daylight.”

“So?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

“One look at a pretty little thing like you, and they’re gonna think about carrying you off to their camp or mine shack.”

She sucked in a breath. “Goodness gracious! That’s barbaric!”

He shrugged. “That can sometimes be men, I’m afraid.” He was quiet a moment, and so was she, turning his words over. Maybe matching more brides wasn’t such a good idea, unless he could prove the town was safe. But could he?

“You’ll be honest with me then?” she asked, looking him in the eyes. “About the men on your list?”

Mrs. Thompson returned with their plates before he could reply. She set them down, asked if they needed anything else, then vanished into the kitchen.

“Of course I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “The men on my list of grooms can protect any bride you bring out here.”

She slowly nodded. “The trip itself is dangerous. We got lucky, I suppose, no train robberies, nothing bad happened on the ship.”

He smiled. “Trips like that always have the possibility of danger. And, around here, there are men, unfortunately, not interested in getting married. That can also be dangerous.”

She gasped. “What sort of man wants a woman but doesn’t want to mar…” She cut herself off. “Oh goodness me. Never mind. I know.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Getting them married quick is best,” he said.

Sound advice. Val was almost surprised Augusta, Margaret, and Josie’s voices weren’t ringing in her head all at once.

They shared some idle chit-chat as they ate.

He didn’t bring up matchmaking again, which Val was thankful for.

Perhaps she’d been too hard on him, and on the town.

After all, the entire reason Mrs. Schulte and her friends wanted these matches was to make the town more respectable, to grow it into something they could be proud of.

She couldn’t blame them there. And it wasn’t as if it would turn into a thriving metropolis overnight.

These things took time; eventually the rabble-rousers would be weeded out.

Once couples started having children and another church was built, things would settle along nicely.

When they finished their meals, they left the hotel, and he took her down the street. “We’ll go to the general store first,” Preacher Sutton announced with a smile. He guided her across the street and opened the door.

She stepped inside and looked around. It was by no means a department store like in Chicago, but for a town like this, the general store was rather quaint. She wondered if any of the brides had seen it yet.

Val drifted to a display of bolts of fabric and ran a finger across a pretty blue calico.

“Do you like that?” Preacher Sutton asked.

“It doesn’t matter what I like. I’m here for a few supplies, so if you don’t mind, I’ll go get them.”

“Be my guest.”

“Thank you.” She went to the front counter and asked after thread.

The shopkeeper, a man with a sour expression, showed her a case filled with spools, and Val picked out the colors she needed.

She added a couple of extra needles, then wandered a bit, trying to keep her mind off the handsome preacher on the other side of the store.

It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was downright infuriating.

Crossing the street with him, men had tipped their hats, and a few had looked at them longingly, as if they were a couple.

And darned if her traitorous heart didn’t flip; she looked away as soon as she could.

“Find anything interesting?” Preacher Sutton asked behind her.

Val jumped. “Merciful heavens, Preacher Sutton! You gave me a fright.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you all right?” Amusement colored his voice.

She couldn’t help a smile. “Yes, I am. But please don’t do that again.”

“Is something making you nervous, Miss O’Malley?” he asked, concern slipping in.

Yes. You are! she thought, but said only, “I’m fine. Really.”

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He gave her a parting smile, clasped his hands behind his back, and sauntered off.

Val went back to the bolts of cloth, then noticed a rack of ready-made clothes and made a beeline for it.

Her coat was shabby and not warm enough.

It had seen better days, that was certain.

She sifted the rack and found a lovely blue coat.

Taking it down to admire it, she murmured, “Oh my, isn’t this lovely?

I wonder how much it is?” She checked the small tag.

“Oh, goodness gracious… it’s not that lovely. ” She put it back.

“Why don’t you try it on?” a woman said.

Val turned and found herself under the impeccable gaze of Mrs. Hanford.

“Well, I don’t know…” Val began.

Mrs. Hanford looked her up and down, and Val blushed, to her dismay. “Oh, come now. There’s nothing nicer than a brand-new coat,” Mrs. Hanford said. “Try it on, why don’t you?”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Val took the coat off the rack again. “Very well, I will.” She shrugged out of her own coat and handed it to Mrs. Hanford. “Here, hold this, will you?”

The woman arched an eyebrow but took it. Val slipped the new coat on and buttoned it. “Well, what do you know, it fits like a glove!”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Hanford said. “It looks very good on you, Miss O’Malley. You should get it.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Val glanced around. “In fact, there are some very fine dresses here. Wherever does the storekeeper get them?”

“Some we get from Bella Weaver, the dressmaker,” Mrs. Hanford said. “She lives on a large farm out in Nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” Val blinked.

“That’s the name of the town.”

“Oh! Did she make this coat?”

“If she did, the tag inside will say ‘Weaver Made’ or ‘Bella Weaver.’”

Val checked. “Yes, there it is: ‘Bella Weaver.’”

“Then she made it. Very fine work,” Mrs. Hanford said. “She can give any dressmaker a run for her money. Many of my dresses are made by Bella Weaver.”

“Are they now?” Val asked, eyes widening.

Mrs. Hanford nodded. “She is the finest dressmaker in the Washington Territory.”

Val looked at the coat longingly, sighed, and set it back on its hanger. “Well, I’ll just have to see what else Miss Bella Weaver has.”

“That would be Mrs. Bella Weaver,” Mrs. Hanford corrected.

“Bella, herself, was a mail-ordered bride, you know,” she added. “And she’s Italian.”

“Goodness, is that so?” Val said, surprised at her own voice.

“Wild Rose Ridge is full of interesting little facts,” Mrs. Hanford said.

“Thank you for telling me. I can pass that on to future brides.” Val smiled and returned her attention to the rack of ready-mades. She’d have to start a list. Smiling, she thought of Preacher Sutton’s list of possible grooms and sighed. Maybe they should go over it sooner rather than later.