Chapter 6
Chapter Six
That evening, snow drifted against the windows in soft, steady flakes, muffling the noise of the street outside. Inside the Sister’s Mail-Order Bride Company, the chaos of the day had finally taken its toll on the Merriweather sisters.
Augusta yawned so wide her jaw cracked. “We shall… attempt to continue… reorganizing.” She sat in Josie’s chair and nearly slid out of it.
Margaret dropped a ledger on her own foot. “Ouch! Oh… oh dear. I can’t feel my toes.”
Josie was already half-asleep, chin tipped forward, a few telegraph messages still clutched in her hands.
Braxton took in the scene and shook his head. “Maybe the three of ya ought to call it a night.”
“Nonsense,” Augusta murmured, swaying like a tree in a windstorm. “We are professional matchmakers.”
Josie snored.
Margaret rubbed her eyes. “Yes, we are… very professional.” She shook the foot she’d dropped the ledger on.
Not five minutes later, all three sisters were beginning to nod off.
Miss Hale watched them with a tired smile. “They meant well.”
Braxton crossed his arms. “Pretty sure they meant to stay upright too.”
Her quiet laugh warmed the room more than the lamps did.
Augusta stirred awake long enough to wave toward the filing cabinets.
“We must begin again… first thing… in the morning.” She yawned.
“Don’t touch anything. In fact, go home you two.
” She eased out of her chair and shuffled toward the door leading to the back, waking her sisters as she went.
Margaret and Josie left their chairs and stumbled after her.
George followed behind them, paused halfway and turned and lumbered right back down to flop across Miss Hale’s feet. She blinked. “Well. That solves the question of where he intends to sleep.”
Braxton grinned. “Your shoes must be comfortable.”
She looked down at the dog sprawled over her shoes like a furry stone. “They’re certainly occupied.”
The sisters thumped up to their apartment overhead. They heard doors creaking, as their voices drifted through the floorboards.
Then silence.
Miss Hale exhaled slowly. “We should probably finish the sorting they didn’t get to.”
Braxton rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t have to stay, Miss Hale.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But someone ought to. Besides, they didn’t lock up. However, I’m sure there’s a key around here somewhere.” She gathered some envelopes, smoothing them neatly. In the lamplight, she looked tired, but… determined.
Braxton hesitated before leaving the desk he was working at and headed for the coat rack.
Truth was, his boarding house was cold, smelled like cigars, and had a man in the room next who snored loud enough to rattle the windows.
Besides, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Miss Hale alone in this half-organized chaos.
He began to reach for his hat and tell her they should both go home. But stopped. “Well, reckon I’ll stay and help.”
She looked up in surprise. “Are you sure?”
He nodded once. “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. Not even a little.
Miss Hale smiled at him, then brought one of the lamps from another desk to the one they’d been working at. Warm light filled the corners of the room and softened the shadows.
She sat and began sorting letters into piles with steady, practiced movements.
Braxton moved to gather some boxes full of various papers and files.
More chaos to be sorted. The sisters had them stored in the parlor beyond the door leading to the back.
Good grief, it could take another week to sort through it all.
George snored, catching his attention. Miss Hale smiled down at him. “He really won’t move, will he?”
“Only if he thinks he’s in trouble,” Braxton said. “Or if there’s food.”
She laughed again. He liked that sound more than he expected.
They worked in comfortable silence for several minutes before Miss Hale spoke. “Have you always lived out West, Mr. Jones?”
He nodded. “Born and raised. My folks settled a ranch out there, then built the house I’m in now at the end of the property closest to town. I’ve been workin’ it ever since I could hold a rope.”
“Were you very young when they built the new place?” she asked.
“Five. Maybe six.” He smiled faintly. “Ma says I learned to lasso before my letters. Pa used to joke that if I ever tied one around my sister, he’d tan my hide.”
Phoebe laughed softly. “Did you?”
“Once,” he admitted. “Only once.”
Her smile lingered as she sorted more telegrams. She had a peaceful way about her. Gentle. Quiet. Not scared of hard work. He’d expected her to turn her nose up at the mess. But she’d rolled up her sleeves and got to it like she’d done it before.
And she looked… right in the lantern light. Calmer. Softer.
He cleared his throat. “What about you, Miss Hale? Have ya always lived here in Chicago?”
“Yes.” Her voice softened with memory. “I grew up on the south side. My mother, she kept the household together for as long as she could. After she passed… things became more difficult.”
Difficult. She said it lightly, but he felt the weight of it. “What about your father?”
Her hands slowed on the papers she was sorting. “He hasn’t been home in years. And when he does appear… it’s never for long. Always with new ideas to get rich. And he always needs money.”
Braxton’s jaw flexed. “Ya alone then?”
“Yes.” She took a careful breath. “Employment has been… difficult to come by.”
He waited.
She swallowed hard and continued. “People don’t want to take a chance on someone connected to a man with my father’s reputation.”
His chest tightened. Not with pity, but with anger on her behalf. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“That’s life,” she said, folding a telegram. “But I’m behind on rent now. And I didn’t want to be home when he returns. He always finds a way, somehow. And then he’d try to sweet talk me out of whatever money I might have.” Her eyes became downcast.
Braxton stilled. “Where are ya stayin’?”
She hesitated, then gave the boarding house address.
He kept his tone calm. “Is it safe there?”
Her mouth tightened. “Safe enough… but not for much longer if I can’t pay what I owe.”
That did it. A feeling settled deep in Braxton’s chest, solid, immovable. A woman shouldn’t go through that alone. Especially not a woman like her.
Braxton didn’t show his anger. Instead he asked, “When’s the rent due?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Three days. I… I haven’t paid last month’s…” She looked away, her cheeks going red. “So, now you know why I’m here. The sooner we get the sisters organized; the sooner they can find me a husband.”
Three days. Braxton nodded. “I see.” He swallowed hard. “All right,” he said, voice steady. “We’ll figure somethin’ out.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks went redder still. “I shouldn’t have told you. It’s not your burden to bear.
George stirred, snorted, then flopped fully across both their feet like an enormous, living blanket.
Miss Hale laughed, breaking the odd tension building between them.
Braxton swallowed. “You don’t seem to mind him anymore.”
“I don’t,” she said, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “He’s very sweet.”
“He likes you,” Braxton murmured. For a moment, neither of them looked away. He was aware of the snow building up outside. It was getting late and he should see Miss Hale home. He tried to hide a smile.
Miss Hale was strong and maybe smarter than she realized. She was also sweet and kind. And she deserved safety, more than anything. He turned back to sorting before he said something foolish.
They worked through the rest of the mess on the desk, their conversation light with a few shared glances. When they finally stacked the last set of papers, Miss Hale let out a long breath. “We did it.”
“We did,” he agreed, and gave her a warm smile.
George snored louder, pinning both their feet to the floor.
Phoebe tried to wiggle them free. “He’s heavier than he looks.”
Braxton chuckled. “Yes he is.” They pulled their feet out from underneath George, who continued to snore. “Do ya think it’s safe to leave him in here unattended? Braxton asked.
“Probably not. He’s liable to chew up the Christmas tree.” she whispered.
Braxton eyed the door on the other side of the room. “I’ll put him in the pantry. I know I’ve seen a set of keys around here. We’ll need them to lock up and can return them in the morning.”
“I’ll look for them while you take care of the dog,” she said.
Braxton gave her a nod, roused George and took him to the pantry. After securing the dog, they found the keys on Augusta’s desk.
At the coat rack, he paused before putting on his hat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk ya home. The streets are quiet, but snow makes it slick, and well, after dark, who knows what could happen?”
Miss Hale’s eyes widened as she hesitated, then finally nodded. “All right.”
They locked up and left the building. The snow fell heavier now, coating the lamps and dimming their light. Miss Hale hugged herself, and Braxton had to force himself not to offer his coat. He knew she’d refuse, and he was already fighting the urge to protect her.
When they reached her building, she turned to him. “Thank you, Mr. Jones,” she said. “For everything.”
“Please, call me Braxton. With as much time as we’ve spent together, we might as well use our Christian names.” He lingered a moment longer, waiting for her to agree. When she didn’t he tipped his hat and stepped back, the snow crunching beneath his feet.
“Good night, Braxton,” she said, voice soft.
He smiled, gave her a nod. then waited until she was safely inside the building. Tomorrow, he’d find her landlord, pay what she owed and make sure she stayed housed through Christmas.
She didn’t have to know he’d done it and would tell the landlord to keep his mouth shut. And if her landlord tried to collect money from her after he’d been paid, then he’d be more than a little sorry by the time Braxton finished with him.
He studied the four-story building Phoebe had entered.
It looked decent enough, and the neighborhood didn’t look run down.
Still, he didn’t want to see her have to move into a cheaper place in a rougher area of the city.
As unorganized as the Merriweather sisters were, it could be months before they found poor Phoebe a decent groom.
And what about himself? Should he seek out another matchmaker? So far all he’d done is to help the sisters get organized. They hadn’t given him any names of potential brides, and none had come through the door that day that he’d be interested in. Was he wasting his time?
He trekked toward his boarding house. It was at least ten blocks away. But he didn’t mind. The cold air helped him think. His family knew he was going to take some extra time here and see if he could find a wife to bring home.
Ma came up with the idea of finding a bride this way.
She told him he’d at least get to meet any potential brides and decide if he wanted to bring one home with him.
He liked the idea, so here he was. He still couldn’t get over the fact The Sister’s Mail-Order Bride Company was supposed to be one of the best in the country.
So far, he didn’t see how. He also wasn’t sure if they’d find poor Phoebe the sort of man she needed.
One that could protect her, appreciate her hard work and gentle demeanor, and would treat her right.
Braxton stewed over the thought all the way to his boarding house.