Ophelia (Bride Brigade Book 4) Read online

  She relaxed again. “I’m glad. Everyone should enjoy his job. Life is too hard otherwise.”

  He stretched out his feet in front of him and his pants rode up enough that she noticed his unusual, intricately-designed western boots. She thought they must have been made specifically for him. They were black with elaborate red tooling on the front.

  Evidently he caught her staring because he pulled up his pants to show her the design. “Had these made down at the Mexican border. Adam swears the fancy red eagles on them are going to get me shot for my boots.”

  She chuckled as she gazed at the unusual design. “I’ve never seen any footwear like them, but I hope no one hereabouts wants to steal them from you. Although small, Tarnation appears to be a nice place to live. I look forward to making it my permanent home.”

  “You’re correct about the town, Miss Shipp. Now that you ladies are here, the town is even better. Folks are calling you the Bride Brigade. We’ve been sorely missing young women.”

  While absorbing the title given her and her new friends, she gazed around the room. “I know there are more than seven bachelors here, but some of the girls have friends or relatives who might want to come.”

  He pulled in his feet and sat straight. “Hey, that’s great. I’ve no chance of measuring up to people like the banker. Deputies don’t make much money. As I said, I like my job. In a few years, I might move on and find a job as sheriff in another town.”

  “That would be Tarnation’s loss, I’m sure. Anyway, I believe most women are more interested in a man’s character than his pocketbook.”

  He appeared relieved. “I sure hope so. Someday I’d like to marry and start a family.”

  The rest of the reception passed more pleasantly than she’d imagined. Happy with her experience, she gathered an armload of cups and plates. Walking toward the kitchen, she met her best friend.

  Josephine asked, “Well, was it as hard as you thought?”

  “This was wonderful. I think I might get used to talking to men without being afraid. If only I could have stood up to Pa, my life might have been different.”

  Her friend also carried a stack of plates. “On the other hand, your life might have ended in one of your pa’s rages.”

  Ophelia conceded Josephine was right. Now the subject was moot because she was here in Texas and Pa was in Possum Corners, Virginia. She expected to remain here and hoped Pa remained where she’d never see him.

  Chapter Two

  Elias Kendrick strolled back to the saloon with a spring in his step. He believed he’d chosen the woman he wanted, but she was so shy that courting her would require careful consideration. In spite of her denial, he recognized that learning he owned the saloon had shocked her. Thankfully, she’d appeared to recover and hold no ill will toward him.

  Deputy Stanton fell in step beside him. “Sure could use a rain.”

  Elias glanced at the blue sky dotted by clouds. “Don’t believe those are thunderheads, though. Glad I’m not a farmer who depends on the weather.”

  The deputy erupted in a chuckle that sounded a bit like a snort. “Me, too, for many reasons. You pick out the woman you want to marry yet?”

  Elias paused before he answered to consider if harm would come from him confessing. “I believe I have but I don’t know if she’ll have me. What about you? You choose one?”

  “Naw, a deputy sheriff doesn’t make enough to keep one of those women in style. They’re all nice, but I didn’t take to any one of them in particular. Reckon I’ll keep on seeing Rhonda when I want female companionship. But, why would you think the woman you’ve chosen wouldn’t have you?”

  Elias scrubbed a hand across his face. “She’s shy and the saloon may frighten her away. She was raised by a real strict father.”

  Stanton grinned at him. “Then I bet I know which one you’ve chosen. Have you set your sights on that quiet little gal, Miss Shipp?”

  He grimaced that he was so transparent. “That’s the one, but will you keep mum about my choice? She’s the exact opposite of anyone I’ve ever known. Can you believe she’s never played cards or seen a play? Her father was one of those who sees wrong in anything fun.”

  “Don’t understand people like him. You never know, maybe Miss Shipp will spread her wings now she’s here.”

  Talking about her had knotted his stomach and sweat had broken out on his brow. “Even so, she probably thinks a saloon owner is in league with the devil.” He was a fool for choosing a woman who would disapprove of his life. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—change his occupation. Getting where he was had taken too long and had been too hard to throw away now.

  “Hey, you don’t run a brothel or seduce young women and don’t allow cheating at cards or brawling. Your saloon is the nicest I’ve ever heard of or seen. Believe me, Adam appreciates that you head off trouble before any starts.”

  Although he was grateful for the deputy’s comment, Elias couldn’t see those aspects impressing Ophelia Shipp. “Hardly enough to cause a shy girl from her background to fall into my arms.”

  “Add to that you have a nice home and own the opera house. Any woman should believe you’re good husband material.”

  The muscles in Elias’ stomach uncoiled a little. “I hope so, but I’ve learned women are mighty unpredictable.”

  “Now there I agree with you.” The deputy turned in at the sheriff’s office. “See you around, Kendrick.”

  Elias stopped before he crossed the road to the saloon. Staring, he assessed the building as if he’d never seen it. The large sign along the front had recently been repainted with bright green outlined in gold, Golden Eagle Saloon. A band of gold bordered the sign’s edges.

  To no one in particular, he said, “Probably should have an eagle painted on there somewhere.”

  The building could use a fresh coat of yellow paint but still appeared well-tended. Warm weather meant the solid doors were open and patrons used the swinging doors painted the same green as the sign. He crossed the road and went into the establishment he’d built five years ago.

  After greeting bartender Bill Dixon and several patrons, Elias went to his office. He tossed his hat at the rack and missed. Muttering to himself, he picked up the hat and hung up the bowler and his jacket. His ledger lay on the desk.

  He sat down and opened to today’s page. The saloon provided the money for all his other projects. Someday the opera house might pay its way, but now he had to subsidize the upkeep and entertainer’s fees. Then, there was his pet project that would always drain cash from his account.

  When Elias was away, he trusted Dixon to run things. Once again he opened the ledger and reviewed the week’s earnings. Last night’s take was in his safe. A couple of times a week, on no particular schedule, he made a bank deposit. Other days, he stopped by the bank to greet the tellers and Tucker. Didn’t pay for a man carrying cash to be predictable.

  Tomorrow afternoon, he’d ride out to check on his favorite project. In the meantime, he’d better get out and mingle with his customers and keep a firm hand on any rowdiness that developed.

  ***

  When Josephine came in from work at the mercantile, Ophelia rushed up to her. “Can you believe it? We’re supposed to learn to dance. Doesn’t that sound scandalous to you?”

  Josephine accompanied her toward the staircase. “Not especially. What kind of dances?”

  Ophelia stuck by her side as they crossed the parlor. “All kinds, some I’ve never heard of—schottische, polka, mazurka, quadrille, and waltz. I’ll probably get my feet tangled. Jo, you didn’t answer my question. Pa always said dancing was evil and led to sinning.”

  “Ophelia, your pa saw sin in everything except what he did. Lydia is very proper and she won’t suggest anything that doesn’t meet her standards.”

  Somewhat mollified, Ophelia said, “I don’t know what came over me, but I trust Lydia. Imagine us at a fancy ball.”

  Her best friend took her arm. “First of all, I hope ours will not be a
fancy ball. We’d have nothing suitable to wear. But, a dance here is certain to be much different than those drunken brawls back home.”

  Ophelia stopped and shook her head at her friend. “Jo, Possum Corner was just a starting point. Tarnation is our home. We’re Texans now and will spend the rest of our lives here.”

  Josephine took her hand as they reached the stairs. “You’re right. I don’t even want to think of our ‘starting point’, much less call it home.”

  Excited thoughts of the future had Ophelia wanting to run up the treads, but she forced herself to act ladylike. “Just think, our children will go to school together just as we did. I do hope they’re close in age and will be good friends.”

  Jo glanced at her with a frown. “You forget I don’t intend to marry.”

  Tipping up her nose, Ophelia said, “So you say, yet I see the way you’ve looked at Michael Buchanan and the way he looks at you. I predict you’ll marry him. Honestly, Jo, sometimes I just want to shake sense into you.”

  “Pfft. You’ve never shaken anyone and I can’t imagine you trying. You’re the gentlest person I’ve ever known.”

  She caught sight of another woman inside the ballroom. “Angeline is the gentlest, Jo. She spends all her time visiting the ill and shut ins. I think she’s an admirable person.”

  Josephine leaned near and whispered, “In spite of her… condition?”

  Speaking low, Ophelia continued down the long hallway. “Yes, but pretend you don’t know about that. She’s trying so hard to hide her state.”

  Josephine shook her head. “Some things won’t stay hidden. I hope she marries soon.” Tugging Ophelia’s hand, she broke into a run. “Come on, let’s learn to dance.”

  Sophie Gaston played the piano and Lydia demonstrated each dance. Girls who knew the steps helped. Of course, Ophelia knew none and was even afraid to try them. Instead, she sat at the side and watched.

  Lydia stopped and sat beside her. “Do you not feel well enough to try?”

  How she hated to disappoint her kind hostess. “I was taught dancing is evil. I know most people don’t see harm, but my training goes deep. In spite of the fact I know you would never ask us to do anything wrong, I simply can’t bring myself to join the lessons.”

  Lydia laid her hand gently on Ophelia’s arm. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to violate your conscience, Ophelia. I appreciate that you’ve at least come to watch.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” She couldn’t help feeling she’d let down Lydia—after all the other woman had done to help her, to save her. In her mind, Pa’s voice clawed at her just as when she was in his house, telling her how worthless and sinful she was. Dear heavens, would she ever escape the man?

  At a break an hour later, Josephine plopped down beside Ophelia. “I don’t understand why your pa thinks this is wrong. Everyone has laughed and appeared to have so much fun.”

  Had she been wrong to sit and watch but not participate? She’d wanted to join in. Unable to answer coherently, Ophelia simply smiled at her friend.

  Josephine fanned her face with her hand. “And dancing works up a thirst.”

  Fortunately, Mrs. Murphy entered carrying two pitchers of lemonade and cups. “Hard work means you need a drink and a rest, ladies.”

  ***

  After practicing each evening for a week, the day of the so-called ball arrived. Earlier in the day, Ophelia had told Josephine she didn’t plan to attend.

  “Of course, you have to attend. If you don’t want to dance, you can get acquainted with the others who are sitting out the dances.”

  “Jo, I’d feel odd. I’ve heard preaching against dancing for so long, I just don’t feel right going.”

  “Ophelia Shipp, don’t you dare let down Lydia. Look at all she’s done for us. She saved us, and you know she did.”

  Ophelia nodded, her mind racing as she searched for an answer. “You’re right, she saved us. We couldn’t have afforded that hotel. Probably your father would have found us before we obtained jobs.” Fighting the fluttering of her stomach, she sighed. “Okay, I’ll get dressed to sit out dances.”

  Ophelia wore her best dress, the one she’d purchased in St. Louis. Although the garment was hardly worthy of a party, at least it was fairly new. She’d worn it to the reception last week and to church each Sunday since she’d arrived. Soon people would think it was her uniform.

  She treasured the gown, even if she’d purchased it with part of the money she’d taken from the family cookie tin. Face it, she’d stolen the money and the dress was purchased with those funds. For all practical purposes, that meant the dress was stolen.

  In spite of the means she used to acquire the garment, she loved her dress. The brown background was dotted with flowers in pale pink, blue, and white scattered across the serviceable muslin. This was the nicest thing she’d ever worn. For the first time she could remember, she had something new. No hand-me- downs from those better off. She was the first person to wear this dress.

  Jo had helped her with her hair in a style far fancier than the braid she usually wore.

  Ophelia tilted her head this way and that. “I hardly recognize myself. I wonder if Mr. Kendrick will attend.”

  Josephine grinned at her. “Ooh, you’re getting daring, wanting to see a man who owns a saloon.”

  Guilt stabbed at her, tightening her chest. “Do you suppose he’s shameful? He also owns the opera house.”

  Josephine hugged her shoulders. “You goose, I’m only teasing you. He appears to be well respected and well liked around town. Shall we go to the ballroom? I’ve heard people walking down the hall, so I’m sure those from town are arriving.”

  They joined guests strolling toward the second-floor ballroom at the other end of the second floor. When they reached the door, Ophelia stopped. “Oh, my, look at Cassandra’s gorgeous gown. I think I’ll go back to our room.”

  Josephine grabbed her arm and prevented her turning around. “You will do no such thing, Ophelia Shipp. You get in there and mingle.”

  Instead of Sophie Gaston, a group of musicians tuned their instruments. Imagine, a band here in Lydia’s home. They didn’t have uniforms as Ophelia thought genuine band members would wear, but she was happy she’d be able to listen to their music.

  She sent her friend a glare. “You’d better not sneak off to the kitchen, Jo, or I’ll leave.”

  Josephine leaned near her ear. “Blackmail doesn’t become you.”

  Ophelia couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “I’ll tolerate the charge if it works.”

  Mr. Kendrick approached them. “Miss Shipp, Miss Nailor, nice to see you ladies. Miss Shipp, may I have the first dance?”

  Now she was embarrassed. “I don’t know how to dance, Mr. Kendrick.”

  If he was surprised, he hid it from her. “I’ll teach you.”

  She gestured to the wall where chairs were lined up for those who didn’t want to dance. “Do you mind if we sit this one out?”

  “Not at all.” He extended his arm to her.

  She put her hand on his arm as he escorted her to one of the chairs. What about this man fascinated her? Was she mesmerized because he was forbidden fruit?

  He sat beside her, appearing relaxed. “The musicians are good for a small town, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. I’m surprised, since each of them has another job.”

  “Is there a particular reason you object to dancing?”

  “My upbringing, Mr. Kendrick. You know, ‘raise a child up in the way he should go and he will not depart from it’. I guess that’s true because I’ve been reluctant to dance.”

  “I respect your beliefs, Miss Shipp, but I’m trying to discover more about you.”

  “I don’t actually know why Pa objected to dancing. I-It doesn’t look as if there could be anything wrong with whirling around the room.”

  She was sorry when that dance ended and the next began. Mr. Kendrick turned toward her. “Would you like to learn this
one? The polka is very easy.”

  She confessed, “I’ve never even attended a dance before this one, but I watched the others practicing all week.”

  He took her hand. “I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly. Just follow my lead.”

  Sure enough, she caught on quickly. They skipped and twirled around the room. Why had she hesitated? There could be nothing wrong with this.

  After the dance, Mr. Kendrick asked, “Could I escort you to the refreshment table?

  “That sounds welcome. Dancing works up quite a thirst.”

  They strolled to the punch bowl while another polka played. She accepted a cup of lemonade.

  He gestured with his drink. “Shall we catch a breath of air on the balcony?”

  What could it hurt? “That would be lovely. I hope there’s a breeze.”

  They crossed in front of the band and exited onto the wide balcony. Two other couples were lingering near the railing, so she didn’t think being here with Mr. Kendrick was scandalous. A light breeze delivered floral scents from the garden and she inhaled the pleasing fragrance. Above the dark hills, stars sprinkled their glow in the night sky.

  Elias leaned a shoulder against the wall where the door frame stopped. “Has the dance met your expectations so far?”

  She peered over the rail. “Far surpassed anything I imagined. I can’t imagine why my father objected. I’ve seen nothing evil here.”

  Gently, he clasped her hand in his. “Miss Shipp, may I call you Ophelia?”

  Surprise almost stole her voice. “I-If you wish. I’ve noticed people are not as formal in Tarnation as in the East.” Not that anyone in Possum Corners was formal—or especially well-mannered.

  “Please call me Elias. Ah, they’re striking up a waltz. Will you give me this dance?” He set his cup on a wicker table and reached for hers.

  “The waltz is my favorite to watch.” Could she remember how to step?

  His dark eyes twinkled as he twirled her onto the floor.

  Oh, my stars. She felt as if she were floating on air, tethered only by Elias’ arms. Gently, he gathered her closer and his nearness sent tingles exploding through her.