I Thee Wed (Stagecoach to Golden Valley #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Amelia Pressly shook off the dust of three days traveling on the stagecoach.

No doubt she appeared as weary as she felt.

Travel by train had been challenging, but it proved to be sheer luxury compared to bouncing over the mountain trail in the stagecoach she and her charge recently shared with others.

Two men who smelled like something dead were the worst of her companions.

The odor lingered in her nostrils. She didn’t dare sniff her arms to see if it had embedded into her clothes.

Leaving her trunk and crate at the station, she hitched two-year-old Poppy higher on her hip and confronted the brave false front of the store in Golden Valley.

Hopefully, she’d put on an equally brave false front.

Smoothing her furrowed brows, she took a deep breath to calm herself and stepped into the Jarvis Mercantile Store.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer, cooler interior.

Scents—familiar and strange—surrounded her.

Jute, dill pickles, and coal oil were the first she recognized, followed by the fainter odor of animals, which might have accompanied her indoors from her long journey.

This was the smell of the West. The place where she’d find security for both herself and Poppy.

Her gaze lit on the tall man leaning against the counter, speaking to the storekeeper who stood with his back to shelves full of canned goods and red syrup tins. The storekeeper appeared to be about the age her father would have been by now. His kindly face strengthened her faltering courage.

He turned to her. “Welcome to Golden Valley. I’m Mr. Jarvis.”

She drank in the kindness in his eyes and the welcome in his smile.

But it was the other person whom she sought. Zach Taggerty. His letters had given her enough information to recognize the man she’d come to marry.

If I had to describe myself, I’d say my jaw is often set too tight. I am taller than most. Could add a few pounds to my body, but I have always been too thin, even though Ma tried hard to fatten me up. Since her passing, the food has not always been that tempting, though Gil does his best.

He turned, saw her, and tipped his hat in silent greeting.

Hadn’t he recognized her? She’d done her best to describe herself in her letters, but it had proven difficult.

Medium height. Light brown hair. Green eyes that too often brought comments.

But she was who she was. She gathered up her false courage and crossed the floor.

“Mr. Taggerty, it is I, Amelia Pressly, and this is Poppy.”

“Nice to know.” He smiled at the baby in her arms. “Hello, Poppy.”

Nice to know? They’d never met, but wouldn’t their weeks of sending letters back and forth mean they weren’t totally unfamiliar with each other?

“Hi.” Poppy didn’t usually answer strangers.

What Zach Taggerty hadn’t told Amelia was how dark and bottomless his eyes were. Of course, he might not see that when he studied himself in a mirror.

He turned back to the man with the white apron and wide-eyed interest. “Someone sent for me. Said it was urgent. I was to meet them here. I guess I missed them.”

The storekeeper’s gaze went to Amelia and back to Zach. He opened his mouth, looking about ready to venture an opinion about why she stood there boldly confronting this tall, handsome young man—something else he hadn’t been accurate about.

I look like most cowboys. A little dusty, not always clean-shaven, and often smelling like I’ve spent the day on the back of a horse. Which I have.

“I’m the one you’re supposed to meet.” She spoke with far more boldness than she felt. “Have you forgotten our arrangement?”

Zach straightened. Didn’t she have every right to call him by his Christian name in her mind? His eyes narrowed. He looked her up and down.

Although her insides balked at his frank assessment, she didn’t flinch. Only one thought escaped her head. This was not the welcome she expected, nor the one he’d led her to believe. No. He was supposed to laugh—or at least, smile—and say how glad he was to meet her and Poppy in person.

“Ma’am, not only have I not forgotten any arrangement between us, but I don’t recall ever making one. I have no notion of who you are.”

If the floor had opened up right then and swallowed her, she wouldn’t have been any more surprised.

“Hi,” Poppy said again.

Zach spared a glance and a fleeting smile at the child. “Hi, yourself.” No smile remained when his gaze returned to Amelia. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.” He tipped his hat and looked past her.

She shifted to block his view and any escape he considered. If he’d changed his mind, he could at least be honest about it. “Are you Zach Taggerty? Do you have a sister Kathy? A father who doesn’t remember things very well? Did you lose your mother six months ago?”

“Who told you that?”

“You did. Let me show you.” She stood Poppy on the floor beside her, hoping the unfamiliar surroundings would keep her from wandering away.

Amelia put her hand luggage on the counter and opened it.

All the letters were tied together with a red ribbon, which now seemed rather foolish and sentimental, but she ignored the heat in her cheeks and pulled the latest note from the stack.

She held it toward him. “Here, read this.”

He withdrew the page from the envelope, skimmed it, and handed it back. “I didn’t write it.” He nodded toward the bundle in her hands. “Nor any of those.”

“But your name—Zach Taggerty.” She pointed to the name on the page. “You answered my ad as a mail-order bride. We wrote. You sent for me. Said we would marry.”

“Marry? Ma’am, you have the wrong fella. I don’t have time for one more problem.” His gaze went to Poppy. “Make that two. Now I best be on my way.”

Amelia stuffed the letters into her traveling case, took it in one hand and Poppy in the other, and followed him. “I have no place to go.” Her swallow echoed for everyone to hear. “Is there a hotel?” How much would that cost? She didn’t have to shake her purse to know few coins remained in it.

Zach sighed and walked back to the counter. “Mr. Jarvis, doesn’t the preacher have a house where people in circumstances like—”

His wave in Amelia’s direction was too dismissive for comfort.

“Like this?” he finished, his voice not softening one bit.

The storekeeper nodded, and Amelia’s dismay deepened. She didn’t come here to hole up in a little room somewhere, though, of course, she had no idea what this house offered in the way of accommodation. Could be the room was sunny, bright, and welcoming. But that wasn’t what she sought.

Mr. Jarvis rubbed his jaw. “At the moment, it’s full to the gills with two women in from the goldfields needing medical care and a young family.

Preacher Stone’s wife might offer her a room at the parsonage, but she is taking care of a sick woman and her sick young ones.

Don’t think she needs more people to tend. ”

Amelia huffed. No one needed to “tend” her. Indignation evaporated. Her shoulders slumped. No one was offering her the home she’d come west to enjoy. It was all she could do not to grab the storekeeper’s hand and beg for his assistance.

Mr. Jarvis gestured to Zach. “You could take her home. Maybe she could be of help with your—” Rather than finish, he shrugged as if more details were unnecessary. Those present already knew the situation.

Zach jerked back. “You don’t think my life is complicated enough already?”

Amelia drew herself up, bristly enough to scrub the inside of a potato pot.

“I am not now, nor have I ever been, a problem or a complication.” She had half a mind to leave the store and set out on her own.

She might have, too, except she couldn’t drag Poppy up and down the streets begging for a place to sleep.

Zach glanced around the store as if hoping a miracle would emerge from the dark corners. His gaze stopped at the post office wicket. “Where did you say you found this ad about me?”

There was postal service right here in Golden Valley? Why hadn’t he sent letters to her from here instead of the fort, which she now knew was a three-day stagecoach journey away? Unless he didn’t want anyone to know of their correspondence.

He waited for her to answer his question.

“You found me in the Matrimonial News. It’s a paper.” From her bag, she pulled the copy that carried her ad and flapped it before him.

He eased it from her grasp and scanned the pages. “I don’t see my name. There’s nothing but numbers. I don’t understand.”

She remained silent. Could he not see that the ads were posted anonymously? Replies sent to the paper were forwarded to the specific person.

He searched the page before him. “Aha. Here is the answer to your problem.” He folded the page back and read, “‘Farmer in the Dakotas near the Badlands seeks a marriageable young woman. I have a pretty little farm. I’m a churchgoer. Promise to be a good provider.’ There. Write him, and he’ll marry you.”

Someplace between farmer in Dakota and provider, Amelia lost her voice.

And her brave front. And the strength in her legs.

She clutched the counter. Now would be a perfect time to remember to pray, though not a thought formed in her head apart from, God, help me.

Never before had three words been so heartfelt.

“Mr. Jarvis, can you give the lady some paper and ink? Oh yeah, and an envelope, please. Put it on my bill.”

Mr. Jarvis didn’t move. “Zach, I don’t like the way you’re handling this.”

Zach crossed his arms and leaned back. “What would you suggest?” Before the man could answer, he added, “Besides taking her home, which I’m not going to do.”

“I’d say she deserves a chance.”

“You got paper or not?”

Shaking his head with disapproval, Mr. Jarvis handed Amelia the writing material. “Miss Pressly, I am so sorry about this.”