Mail Order Bride: Fall (Bride For All Seasons 3)

“Uh.” So compelling. So engaging. So different. “Tall. So tall.”

“Well, then.” Reese had turned slightly sideways, in the shade of the big overhanging sycamore where they stood, to send a glance up and down the street from those fine eyes. “A few people showin’ some interest, I notice. You reckon there might be some place less public for us to sit and talk a spell?”

Propriety would not allow her to simply wander off with some man who was newly arrived in town, no matter for what reason. Nor would he expect her to. The brain that had been momentarily struck as dumb as her tongue stirred and came to life.

“I was on my way to the doctor’s office for my usual time of schooling—or duties, depending on what’s going on. Just walk this way with me, if you would.”

Obligingly, hat replaced so he could offer one arm in the age-old gesture of support and respect, he fell into step beside her. “And I was headin’ on over to the boardin’ house you mentioned in your letters, to introduce myself. But I think this might be more private.”

Struck by the tone of his voice, she flashed him an upward look. “And you prefer privacy?”

“In most things of life, yeah. Don’t you?”

“Probably. I never really thought about it much. So much of each life is lived in public...”

“Gossip. Finger-pointin’. Gettin’ involved in things you shouldn’t.”

Several mongrel pups, barking and tumbling over each other, suddenly went racing past them in pursuit of someone in a surrey. Her companion’s serious gaze followed them. “Any danger there?”

“Oh, goodness, no. That’s part of Abel Norton’s pack. At the stable, you know. He feeds them and gives them shelter, and they sort of run wild the rest of the time. But they’re friendly.”

“Huh. Ain’t had me a dog since I—well, for a long time.”

His voice trailed off. It was a gentle, pleasant voice, softened still more by a regional southern drawl, and she decided that she could easily get used to listening to it. And that wayward comment about Abel’s canines...well, that, too, she found interesting.

“If you would like, I’m sure Abel could be persuaded to part with one.”

He was matching his steps to hers, trudging along almost soundlessly without spurs to clink or wooden floorboards to thump. For the time being, he skittered away from that subject. “It’s a right nice town you got here,” he said then, glancing down to discern a countenance hidden by too many silk flowers and too much black lace. “You’re plannin’ on stayin’ here, I take it?”

“Oh, yes.” Meeting his glance with a smile, her upturned face showed as lovely as a flower itself. A lily, perhaps. Or one of the big showy peonies, back home. All unconscious of his silent tribute, she widened the smile into dimples. “At least, I certainly want to. As I explained in my letters to you, my sisters live in Turnabout, and I don’t believe I could bear to leave them behind. Would it be a hardship for you to relocate, permanently?”

“No, ma’am. I reckon I could put my bedroll down just about anywheres, ’s long as I was welcome.”

Her generous heart was touched by the note of loneliness she thought she heard. Or had she been mistaken? Slow down! she inwardly warned her rampaging emotions. You can’t go on so quickly with any romantic notions. Remember Molly!

But Molly had fallen head over tin cups for a suave manner and a gambler’s good looks. This man had neither.

“Ah, here we are,” said Letty with relief, indicating the substantial building that warehoused everything Dr. Gabriel Havers might need. “My friend and mentor. I want you to meet him, first thing.”

But in that she must be balked. The house was empty, and Gabriel was gone, with only a hasty note left by the door to explain his absence.

“He was called away,” she said, scanning the scrawled words. “Back—for heaven’s sake—back to the same farm from which we rescued young Willie O’Day. For a baby with colic. And, since Willie is greatly improved, and has been fussing about getting out of his sick bed, Gabe took him home. Well!”

Reese, standing quietly just inside the receiving room, was studying her as she studied the missive. “And you’re put out about that?”

“Put out? Nooooo...more surprised than anything, I suppose. Would you like some coffee while we sit and chat, Mr. Barclay?”

The slightly crooked smile lit up his face. “You feel like you can make free of the doctor’s quarters?”

“Oh, piffle, certainly I can. I’m in and out of here all the time. And he doesn’t provide enough salary to lock the door against me, anyway.”

“In that case, yes. I could really go for a cup of coffee.”

During the several months of their correspondence, Letty had shared a few personal details with her potential husband-to-be. A bit of her own background, certainly; family history; her likes (lemon meringue pie, soft summer rain, and big-brimmed hats, among others) and dislikes (the smell of cigars, cooked liver, and chilblains, to name just three). But she had been chary of revealing too much, just at the beginning. Far better, in her opinion, to let information trickle out, in dribs and drabs, especially when a face-to-face tête-à-tête could be much more enlightening. And more satisfying.

“We all look very much alike, we Burtons,” she said now, bustling about with the heavy earthenware cups Gabe favored, and the sugar and canned milk he didn’t. “But our personalities are quite different. As you shall see, Mr. Barclay, when you meet everyone.”

“You’ve had kind of a rough time of it, from what you’ve said.”