Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,125
Wintersby, we’ll have Pickens out of here and the mess cleaned up by the time you return.”
“Thank you, Mr. Steele. It’s been a most trying morning.” Charlotte disappeared out the door with Addie.
“What happens to me?” Texanna asked.
“Good news.” Jack grinned. “You get to sit in our jail for a while and enjoy the fresh air.”
“For how long? I said I’m sorry. You can’t put me out there in the open. A lady needs privacy.”
“You should’ve thought about that, Mrs. Pickens.” Jack pulled her up. “Lucky for you, we have a vacancy, but don’t expect eating utensils to come with meals. You’re eating with your hands.”
Texanna tried to jerk away. “You’re nothing but a…a…barbarian.”
“I wonder what I’ll find when I start looking? Will I learn you’re wanted for other crimes? Let’s go.” Jack waded through the crowd that had gathered. “It’s all over, folks. Your money’s secure. Go about your business.”
Ridge stared through the window and noticed a wagon lumbering into town, an old man and a kid on the front seat. He wondered what their story was and how they’d found their way to Hope’s Crossing. Their town was changing in tune with the world outside their doors, and if he didn’t change with it, he’d get left behind.
“Clay, have you ever thought about hanging up your gun?” Ridge asked.
“Almost every day. You?”
“Me too. Do you think we’ll ever get the chance?”
“Maybe one day far off, if we’re lucky.”
“Yeah.” Ridge shook himself and asked for some volunteers to cart Pickens to the cemetery. Then a couple to clean up Charlotte’s floor. He’d made a promise.
Damn, he was tired.
Thirty-Six
Addie cooked breakfast with her mother the following morning and made plans for her sisters’ arrival. They’d be there in two weeks, as per the return telegram. “You’re welcome to stay here until you find something more permanent.”
Ridge filled his coffee cup and moved to the table. “I think I might have a solution.”
“What do you have in mind?” Addie turned the sausage.
“Todd Denver’s place. I don’t know what the rent will be, but I’m sure Clay will keep it low.” Ridge raised his cup to his mouth. “Of course, it’s kind of small, but it has a nice loft and a little bedroom below. Denver used the loft for his book collection.”
“That sounds perfect!” Addie beamed. “And yesterday, Martha Truman told me that Miss Quinn is looking for help in the dress shop.”
Ingrid set the basket of fresh eggs next to the stove. “I haven’t worked for many years.”
The change in her mother had taken everyone by surprise. With her injuries healing, her hair combed, and clean clothes, Ingrid bore little resemblance to the woman who’d sat in the wagon staring through dead eyes. She now appeared years younger, and full of dignity and hope. Addie had sat for hours, talking with her mother and rekindling their relationship, something that she’d worried had ended so horribly wrong three years ago. She forgave her for not doing more, truly understanding now how much Ingrid had been a victim too.
“But you know how to sew, Mama. Everyone has always complimented your fine stitches.” Addie gave her a hug. “You just have to get your confidence back. No one is ever going to beat you or yell when you do something wrong. Not again.”
“My bruises—”
“They’re healing and fading fast. Besides, no one in this town will stare at you. I look a lot worse than you do, and I did just fine yesterday. You’re still a pretty woman, Mama.”
Now that vibrant life had replaced the haunted, vacant look, her mother was beginning to find more self-esteem. It would just take time to complete the metamorphosis.
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely.” Addie removed the cooked sausages and added more to the skillet.
“I agree with my wife.” Ridge ran his finger idly around the rim of his cup. “You’re exactly what that dress lady is looking for. You have experience, and you’ll soon have the women in this town raving about your needlework as well.”
Ingrid allowed a small smile. “You’ve convinced me. After we clean up from breakfast, I’d like to go into town and talk to the dress-shop owner. What was her name?”
“Miss Tara Quinn.” Addie kissed her mother’s cheek. “And while we’re there, we might look in on the house.”
Ridge propped his elbows on the table. “Before I speak to Clay, I really do need to know if it’ll suit your needs. Like I said, it’s a little small.”