Want Ad Wedding. Cheryl St.John

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СКАЧАТЬ best choice. And then he’d let her decide.

      Daniel felt something more than he’d felt for a long time. He didn’t want to let himself think of Leah in the big house he’d built on Lincoln Boulevard just yet. He didn’t want to picture her in the rooms he’d walked through when the house was a mere shell, before burnished flooring, paint and fixtures had made it a home. He’d always had a faceless woman in mind. As he’d surveyed the land and overseen construction he’d planned that one day he’d share the home with a wife. But Leah’s image, with her bright blue eyes and soft pale hair, was all he could envision now. He had his doubts about the wisdom of this decision, but along with his reluctance he felt more than he’d felt in a long time.

      He felt hope.

      * * *

      Leah woke early and ate breakfast in Aunt Mae’s dining room with the other brides and the full-time boarders. Gus Russell had stark white hair and still stood straight. The lines at the corners of his wise dark eyes were evidence of his years in the sun. “Cowboy Creek got a windfall when you young gals showed up,” he said.

      Old Horace wore his long gray hair pulled back with a leather thong. He had been tall in his day and was still lean, but his back was hunched so he was always looking up. “Why if I’d a knowed these fillies would be so purdy, I mighta got a haircut and throwed my hat in the ring.”

      “Wouldn’t any of these young ladies want a dried-up old coot like you,” Gus countered.

      Old Horace bristled. “I still got my charm. Down in Mexico I was quite a ladies’ man.”

      Gus stabbed a piece of sausage from a platter. “The Mexican War was over twenty years ago and you were an old man then.”

      “Did you fight for the annexation of Texas?” Hannah asked.

      “For two years,” Horace replied.

      “Mr. Gardner is showing me the church this morning,” Reverend Taggart said to his daughter. “I thought you might like to join us.”

      “If you don’t mind, I’m still tired from the trip,” she answered. “Is it all right with you if I rest this morning?”

      “That’s perfectly fine,” her father replied. “You rest. I imagine you’ll want to check out available locations for your shop when you’re up to it.”

      She gave him an affectionate smile. Hannah was a talented seamstress and made all of her own clothing.

      Leah cast her a curious glance. “You’re planning a shop?”

      Hannah nodded. “I’ve always wanted to have my own dressmaking establishment. This place seems like the perfect opportunity, with new businesses cropping up everywhere and more women arriving. I might not have many customers at first, but I’m sure business will flourish as the town grows.”

      Which reminded Leah of her own plans for the morning. She was going to visit the newspaper about an advertisement. “The newspaper office is right next door to us here, isn’t it?” she asked.

      “I’m heading there right after breakfast,” Prudence replied. She wore a plain brown dress, with her ever-present cameo at her throat.

      “We might as well walk over together then,” Leah suggested.

      “Actually I went late yesterday, too,” Prudence said. “I got a position.”

      “My, my, isn’t that news?” Aunt Mae exclaimed. “What if you get a husband who lives outside town, dear?”

      Prudence glanced at the others around the table. “I will choose one who either lives in town or nearby.”

      Old Horace squinted at her. “Do you have newspaper experience?”

      “D.B.—er, Mr. Burrows has assured me my help is quite welcome.”

      “Perhaps Mr. Burrows is in the market for a wife,” Aunt Mae added with a wry lift of one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

      Prudence pursed her lips in exasperation. “I don’t think so.”

      “Well, I’m significantly impressed you’ve found a position so quickly,” Pippa said. “Perhaps you could employ your curious side and find the latest news on all the residents.”

      “We got news for ya,” Old Horace chimed in.

      “Facts are what we need,” Gus reminded him “That newspaper has a reputation for blowing the truth out of proportion. Why, this town was still a row of clapboard buildings and tents, and The Herald was already calling it a boomtown.”

      “It is a boomtown, you old fool,” Old Horace rebutted.

      “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going.” Prudence set down her napkin and stood.

      Leah watched her go. She was the least friendly of all the women who had traveled west together. Leah understood Prudence was widowed, as well, so perhaps she was still grieving and not ready for friendships. Everyone handled grief their own way. “May I help you with the breakfast dishes?” she asked Aunt Mae.

      “Goodness, no. You’re a paid renter, even if the town is paying your rent for a few weeks. The dishes are my job.”

      “Thank you. It was a nice meal.” Leah took care of a few last-minute things, and then walked next door.

      D.B. Burrows was a tall fellow with muttonchop sideburns and pale skin. He was standing at a worktable when she entered. “Morning,” he offered.

      “Good morning. I’d like to place an ad, please.”

      “Miss Haywood will get all the information,” he told her.

      Leah hadn’t seen Prudence sitting behind a partition until she stood and reached for paper and ink.

      Leah recited what she’d planned for her ad.

      “There aren’t many women around here yet,” D.B. said.

      “I understand that,” Leah answered. “Hopefully, people will read it and remember me when my midwife services are needed.”

      D.B. wiped his hands and moved to stand beside Prudence. He stood a little too close in Leah’s opinion, but the young widow didn’t seem to mind as she showed him what she’d written. “That’s good,” he praised.

      This seemed awfully quick, but maybe theirs would be the first marriage, just as Aunt Mae had suggested. Or Leah was reading more into their new employer and employee relationship than was there. She paid for the ad. “Do I remember seeing the doctor’s sign on this street?”

      D.B. nodded. “Keep walking the way you came here and on past the jail. Across the street on the corner is Doc Fletcher’s place. If he’s not in, there’s a chalkboard.”

      “Thank you.”

      Quincy Davis spotted her as she passed, and he came out to greet her. “Morning, Miss...”

      “Mrs. Swann,” she supplied.

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