Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Phoebe didn’t see Braxton for several days.
Mr. Clark came by a couple of times, and they sat and spoke.
She didn’t want to give him an answer just yet.
He seemed amiable enough, and if she were smart, she’d take his offer of marriage.
It seemed a little unconventional, now that she thought about it, and he said he’d give her time, just not too much.
She was beginning to feel as though he wanted to present her to his children as a Christmas gift.
Augusta came into the office and dropped a stack of new applications on her desk. “Isn’t it wonderful? Five more grooms!”
Phoebe forced a smile. “Yes, it’s great.”
Augusta’s hands went to her hips. “You don’t sound enthused. What’s the matter, dear?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m… procrastinating.” And the fact that she missed Braxton didn’t help. Phoebe fiddled with the applications. “Have you heard from Braxton?”
“No, dear. But we’re still looking for a bride for him. Unfortunately, the few women that have come in wouldn’t suit him and want to head west right away. Which is why this new batch of applications is so timely.”
Phoebe nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was thick with emotion, and she realized she’d fallen for Braxton. What good did it do her? He was leaving, and he wanted someone with a lot more gumption than she had.
“Augusta,” Margaret said as she entered the office, “I’m heading to the telegraph office. Are there any more messages that need to be sent?”
“No, I think everything’s fine. Just let Mr. Hansen know we’ve found a bride for him and that she’ll be sending him a letter.”
“Consider it done.” Margaret went to the coat rack, put on the hat George had decimated, Josie’s coat, and her own scarf.
Phoebe smiled despite herself and realized how much she enjoyed working for the Merriweather sisters. “Augusta…”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you have any other family, or is it just the three of you?”
“We have cousins. One, Stanley, lives in Apple Blossom in the Montana Territory, though we barely know him. In fact, we’ve never met.
Then there’s cousins Lawrence and Mable and some other relatives scattered here and there.
Unfortunately, we’re not very close with any of them.
That’s the trouble when everyone’s so spread out. ”
“I suppose it is.”
Phoebe thought of her father. He was her only living relative, and he didn’t care a whit about her.
He only showed up when he needed money. If her guess was right, he could pop up at any time.
Thankfully, she’d moved to Randall’s Boarding House not long after Mama passed.
Even if he did show up, he might never find her.
She let out a long sigh and studied the applications. Augusta was still standing beside her desk. Phoebe looked up at her. “Yes?”
“Dearest. I know you’re not happy. Is it Mr. Clark?”
Phoebe swallowed hard. “I… I’m not sure about him.”
“But he’s everything you want. Dependable, responsible, safe.”
“Yes, I know, but…” She closed her eyes. “I feel nothing.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I know he said he’d grow to love me, and I would do the same. It’s all I expected with this sort of arrangement. But…”
Augusta gave her a sympathetic smile. “You want to feel more. You want to be in love.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my,” Augusta drawled. “I don’t know what to tell you. But you do realize that if you’re in our employ, you have plenty of time to find a beau, court, and fall in love.”
Phoebe folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. “I know.”
Augusta studied her a moment. “Then what’s the problem, dear?”
Phoebe’s eyes flicked to hers once.
“Oh.” Augusta backed up a step. “Oh dear…”
Phoebe swallowed back the lump in her throat. Then, unable to help it, she buried her face in her hands and a small sob escaped.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Augusta patted her shoulder. “Oh dear, dear, dear.”
“What’s the matter?” Josie asked, coming into the office.
“Our Phoebe’s in love,” Augusta said.
“In love? Already? Mr. Clark swept you off your feet?”
“Not Mr. Clark, sister,” Augusta said.
Augusta knew. That knowledge only made Phoebe sob harder.
“Don’t worry, dearest,” Augusta said gently. “I’m sure he’s still in town. Just because he hasn’t been by for a time doesn’t mean he’s left.”
“Who?” Josie asked.
“Braxton Jones, of course.” Augusta rolled her eyes. “Really, sister. You’ve got eyes don’t you?”
“Yes, but Mr. Clark…” Josie glanced at Phoebe.
She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and was dabbing her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but it did,” she said between sniffles. “But he’s leaving, and…”
“Now, now, dear,” Augusta said, patting her back. “You just have to talk to the man.”
“What for?” Phoebe shot back. “I’m not what he wants. He’s made that quite clear.”
Josie studied her a moment. “True, but he’s also spent a lot of time with you. The two of you work together so well, and he’s done things for you and bought you presents.” She smiled.
“He was just being kind,” Phoebe said, wiping her eyes again. “I’m going to have to forget about him. But it’s hard, and I’m not sure I can…” She sniffed and blew her nose.
“What about Mr. Clark?” Josie asked.
Phoebe shook her head. “I can’t. Not when I feel like this. It wouldn’t be fair to the man.”
“No, I suppose not,” Josie said, casting a worried glance at her sister. “What are we going to do?”
“We are not going to do anything,” Augusta said firmly. “Phoebe, on the other hand, is going to get a hold of herself and speak with Mr. Jones.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath. “Oh, but I couldn’t.”
“You can, and you will,” Augusta said. “Besides, what have you got to lose?”
She couldn’t argue with that. But really, what was the point? She already knew Braxton wasn’t looking for someone like her. He’d emphasized more than once how hard ranch life could be.
Josie came to her other side and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Do you really love him?”
Phoebe nodded. “I do. But… I’m all wrong for him.”
“Perhaps not,” Augusta said. “He’s been very attentive toward you. I think there’s something there. But you’ve got to talk to him, dear. Otherwise, how will you ever know?”
Phoebe rose from her chair and wrung her hands. “But the humiliation of being rejected…”
“Come now, Phoebe,” Josie said. “You don’t have to blurt out that you’re in love with him. Just give him something to think about.”
“How do I do that?”
Josie exchanged a look with Augusta. “You leave that to us.”
Phoebe cringed. What were these two up to?
“Sit, dear,” Augusta coaxed. “Go through the applications, get them filed, and we’ll talk. In the meantime, I think I’ll take George for a walk.”
George’s head came up at his name. He’d been snoozing beneath the table near the wall.
Phoebe got to work. She had no idea what Augusta and Josie were planning and was afraid to ask. There was no point, couldn’t they see that? And the last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself in front of Braxton.
She went through the applications as Augusta asked, filed them, then sorted through the remaining mail while she waited for Augusta and George to return.
When they didn’t, she went into the back to eat some lunch.
The sisters were kind enough to make enough of whatever they ate to feed all four of them.
When she finished her sandwich, she returned to her desk. No sooner had she sat than the office door opened and two men entered, carrying wrapped packages decorated with bright ribbons.
“What’s this?” Margaret asked as she came in behind them.
“Delivery for the Sisters’ Mail-Order Bride Company,” one of the men said. He looked around, spied the back table, and headed that way.
“Augusta, come quick!” Josie called as she entered from the back. “What do we have here?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Margaret said.
Phoebe watched as the men set everything down on the table. “Goodness.”
Augusta joined them and went straight to the parcels. “Good afternoon.” She surveyed the packages of various sizes. “Who sent these?”
One of the men pulled a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “Gifts, ma’am, from a Mr. Braxton Jones.”
Phoebe’s heart skipped. “How thoughtful.”
“Indeed,” Augusta said, taking the letter. She smiled at the men. “Josie, get a little something for these gentlemen.”
“Right away, sister.” Josie hurried off.
“I can’t imagine what he got us,” Margaret said with an anticipatory grin.
Phoebe left her desk and moved closer. One of the boxes was quite large.
Augusta picked up an oblong box and read the tag. “Margaret, this one’s for you.”
Josie returned with coins for the delivery men. They accepted them, tipped their hats, and took their leave.
“Josie, this one’s for you,” Augusta said, handing her a rectangular package.
“This one’s for me.” She indicated a smaller box tied with ribbon to a flatter parcel.
Then she lifted another small package. “Oh my, he even got something for George!” Augusta glanced at the tag on the largest box and two smaller ones. “Phoebe, these are for you.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath. “What could they be?”
“I can’t wait,” Margaret said. “I’m opening mine!” She undid the ribbon, peeled back the tissue paper, then opened the box and beamed. “A hat!” She lifted it out reverently and placed it on her head at once. It sat a bit askew, but it was lovely.
“Oh, sister, it looks divine!” Josie clapped her hands. “I’m opening mine next.” She unwrapped her gift. Inside were leather-covered ledgers trimmed in gold, along with several fine pens.
Augusta’s jaw dropped. “Those are beautiful!” She didn’t announce opening her own gift. She simply did. Inside were record-keeping books, also leather-bound with gold-edged pages, and beautiful pens.
“I’m opening George’s for him,” Josie said. George, snoozing in the back parlor, likely wouldn’t mind. Josie tore off the paper. “Oh, look, a new collar!”
“Now you, dear,” Margaret said, nodding toward Phoebe’s parcels.
Phoebe untied the ribbon on the smallest package first, her hands trembling. She unwrapped it slowly. “Oh…” Her voice caught. “It’s a book of poetry.”
“Open the big one!” Margaret urged.
Phoebe smiled, and reached for the second biggest. “Goodness…”
Augusta, Margaret, and Josie all drew in a breath at once.
“Phoebe, what a lovely hat,” Josie said.
Phoebe lifted it from the box. It was the hat she’d admired in the first dress shop she and Braxton visited.
She stared at it a moment, her heart in her throat, before setting it aside and reaching for the biggest box.
She opened it and gasped. “Mercy, will you look at this?” She pulled a dress from the box and held it to her chest. “It’s beautiful.
” Tears stung her eyes. “He remembered what I liked…”
Her gaze fell to the letter resting on the table. Setting the dress down carefully, she picked it up. “Mind if I read this?”
“Not at all, dear,” Augusta said.
Phoebe opened the envelope and unfolded the letter with care.
Ladies,
I wish to thank you for the time, patience, and consideration you extended to me during my stay. Your professionalism and kindness will not be forgotten. It was a true pleasure working with you.
Phoebe,
Please forgive the liberty of addressing you here, but I believe it best to speak plainly. I understand that Mr. Clark has made an offer for your hand, and that his intentions are honorable.
It is my hope that whatever course you choose brings you comfort and stability, both of which you deserve.
I wish you every happiness in the future.
Respectfully,
Braxton Jones
Phoebe read the letter twice. There was no accusation in it. No claim. No reproach. Only understanding. And that, somehow, hurt the most.
“What does it say, dear?” Margaret asked.
Phoebe handed her the letter and wandered toward the Christmas tree. The sisters gathered close as Margaret read it aloud. As she did, Phoebe’s jaw trembled.
“He didn’t even say goodbye.”