Chapter Eight #2
The boardinghouse was quiet when they arrived, the afternoon heat likely keeping any of the tenants there in their rooms. Louise was in her usual spot next to the common room fireplace, just inside the door.
She held a pen and paper in hand—writing, as she liked to do during slow hours.
Prayers, that was what she had said when the girls had stayed at the boardinghouse.
She looked up as soon as their heels struck the hard, creaky wood of the entry hall floor.
“Ladies,” she called, setting her pen down. “What can I do for you? Y’all don’t need a room, surely! You’re all married to the best darn men in these parts.”
June glanced at Ada and Etta before stepping forward. “We need to talk. Privately.” She kept her voice steady, even stern.
Louise clearly understood that she meant business.
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t ask any questions.
“Come on back,” she said, leading them up the stairs.
The sound of their heels thumping against the wood echoed across the hallway, loud and thunderous.
When they got to the top, she ushered them into her personal chambers at the far end of the hallway.
As soon as Louise shut the door, June’s heart thudded in her chest and her hands immediately felt clammy. It only got worse as Louise folded her arms, locking eyes with each of them as she settled into her rocking chair. “Alright, ladies. What’s this all about?”
June took a deep breath, then launched into the full story.
She told Louise everything—how they were orphan runaways, how Trey had taken them in and forced them to work for him, how they had gotten kicked off the wagon train and wandered into town—and how they had taken the places of the real mail-order brides.
Then she told them how they were trying to make it work, and how they needed to send letters to the real brides without anyone finding out.
Louise listened without interrupting, her expression unreadable. Almost blank.
When June finished, the silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, Louise let out a long, high-pitched whistle.
“Well, I can’t say I saw that coming,” she remarked, looking rather more impressed than otherwise.
“But I’m not one to judge. Lord knows I’ve done my share of questionable things to get by, and it sounds like you girls are just tryin’ to survive out here. ”
Ada’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Oh, thank goodness you understand. It’s been a heck of a long time since anyone’s known the truth about us,” she sighed.
Louise’s gaze softened. “You’re good girls, trying to survive in a place that’s not kind to anyone, let alone women on their own. Somethin’ tells me you’re not sayin’ all this just for me to know. What do you need?”
June exchanged a glance with Ada and Etta before answering. “We wanted to ask if you could send the letters to the real brides. Discreetly…”
Louise nodded thoughtfully. “I can manage that. I helped Henry write the letters in the first place.”
Relief washed over June, and she felt a rare smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you,” she said, beaming. Maybe they wouldn’t get caught after all.
Louise chuckled and waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t mention it.” Then she grew more serious.
“Just… be careful, alright? Secrets have a way of coming out when you least expect them. If I were you ladies, I would tell the men the truth before they find out some other way. They’re good men, and you’re already married. ”
June nodded, guilt coming back to rear its ugly head. “We will,” she promised with a faint smile.
She had every intention to tell someone eventually…
but she wasn’t sure when and she wasn’t sure how.
She still wasn’t quite sure what she wanted from this little arrangement with Seth.
He didn’t have much that she could steal.
Nothing that Trey would have wanted. He wasn’t like Henry or Jack.
He didn’t have a lot of money or valuables.
He had his animals and his land. And that was it.
June wasn’t exactly sure what she could take from him that would make sense… but then again, if her intention was to scam him, why did she care so much about not wanting to lie to him?
***
That night, June made the first real dinner she’d cooked successfully in who knew how long.
The entire kitchen was filled with the smell of roasted chicken and fresh herbs from Seth’s back garden.
She wiped buttery hands on her blue apron and glanced at the small table she’d set for two.
The plates were mismatched, and the napkins had seen better days, but there was a charm to the table—a hominess she hadn’t expected to find in Seth Whitman’s house.
She was proud of herself, but she wasn’t sure if she was doing all this because she felt guilty, or because she was actually trying to connect with Seth. He wasn’t exactly the most accommodating man in the world, but the home he had was nice.
Just then, the front door creaked open, and Seth’s heavy boots thumped on the old wooden floor as he took them off.
As she heard him walking to the kitchen, June straightened her back and smoothed her hair, pretending she hadn’t been nervously waiting for him to come home—hoping he would like the food; the way she had done laundry; the way she looked.
“Evenin’,” he said as he walked in, his voice carrying the fatigue of a long day. He hadn’t really talked much in the last couple of days. Not that June had expected anything else. She’d barked at him pretty good those first few days. She didn’t really blame him not wanting to talk to her.
Then he scanned the room, and his eyes widened as he saw the table.
“You cooked?” he asked, sounding more surprised than June had ever heard him.
“Thought you might be hungry,” she replied, careful to keep her voice kind. “You have worked all day, after all.”
His lips twitched. “I work all day every day, and you ain’t cooked a meal til now?” he muttered.
Immediately, anger welled up in June’s gut. That wasn’t even true! She’d made him eggs before. And for what? For him to be ungrateful, now that she was trying to make a real effort?
Her fists tightened and so did her jaw; but then she took a deep breath, reminding herself to remain calm. “I thought… we could eat together,” she said carefully.
“I’ll wash up,” Seth grunted before disappearing into his bedroom.
June took the moment to steady herself and her nerves. He had just walked in, and he had already made her angry. He had a knack for it. Truly.
But if she was being honest, her nerves weren’t really from the cooking or the evening itself. It was the nagging thought of whether or not Louise had gotten the letters out in time.
Seth returned, his hair and hands damp, water droplets dampening his dirty clothes.. June didn’t say anything, though. She could hardly expect better. Men were not the tidiest of creatures.
“Smells good,” he said, sounding mildly awkward now as he seated himself at the table.
“Thank you,” June replied as she scooted her chair up to the table. Her hands shook as she reached over to the dish at the center of the table and scooped him a portion of chicken and vegetables. She was nervous, and she wasn’t quite sure why.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was watching her now, with those sharp emerald eyes of his.
“Did you have a nice day?” she asked, careful not to meet his eyes too long.
She couldn’t get lost in them. Not now.
He grumbled in response, and June sighed heavily. It was so difficult trying to get anything out of him. He wasn’t a man of many words.