Toria was relieved to see Mortimer leave for a few minutes. He seemed like a nice enough man, but he also seemed disappointed in her, and she wasn’t sure why. She knew she was relatively pretty, and she had no warts on her nose. Surely there was something she was missing and didn’t understand.

Beatrice hurried into the kitchen and Toria followed helplessly. “If you want to take a full bath, it will take a few minutes to heat the water. If you’re willing to just take a sponge bath, I can have that ready in a few minutes.”

Toria really wanted a full bath, but she didn’t want to put Beatrice out. “How about if I use a bowl, but you heat enough water to wash my hair? It hasn’t been washed in the ten days since I left Massachusetts, and I’m used to washing it twice a week.” It was one of the luxuries of living in a boarding house, and she was going to miss it.

“I’m happy to. I’ll even help wash it. My baby girl is taking her nap, so you came at just the right time.” Beatrice hurried to the basin and pumped some water into a huge pot.

Toria pulled the clothes she’d brought to marry in—a simple skirt made of blue linen, and a frilly white blouse—out of her bag. Before she even asked, Beatrice put her iron on the stove to heat. “Thank you. I appreciate being able to clean up before I marry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Beatrice responded. “I’ll even iron your things for you while you wash.”

“Thank you.”

“Mortimer was so excited about your arrival. My friend, Hannah, cleaned his house for you so it would be perfect when you arrived. He offered to pay her, but she wanted a stethoscope in exchange for the work she did. It was an odd request, but they were both happy in the end.”

Toria smiled at that. If he’d been as excited as Beatrice said before she’d even arrived, surely she was mistaken about his disappointment upon seeing her. Beatrice handed her a bowl, and she took it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Go into my room to change. It’s just to the right. Put your nightgown on when you’re done, and I’ll be pressing this. Then we’ll wash your hair. I’m so happy you’re finally here. Mortimer needs a good wife, and just by talking to you, I can see you’ll be just that.”

Beatrice’s happy chatter made Toria feel a little more comfortable about the situation. She hurried into the bedroom and removed her dress, washing everywhere. When her hair was washed, she knew she’d feel like a new woman.

Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and Beatrice was brushing her hair dry in front of the fire in her parlor. “Thank you so much for helping me get ready.”

“It’s not a problem at all. I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, and a woman can never have too many friends in a town like Creede.”

“What does that mean?” Was there something wrong with the town she didn’t know about?

“It’s getting to be a better place every day. When I first arrived, there were women who went missing. They were all found in a cellar, and half the town burned down. They were being taken and held so they could be forced to be saloon girls.”

“Saloon girls? That’s terrible!”

Beatrice nodded. “It is terrible. I will say, those missing women have become some of my closest friends. The town is working on rebuilding.”

“Did they catch the man responsible for the kidnappings?”

“Yes and no. They caught one of his henchmen, but the man who hired him has been freed. His uncle has a great deal of money, and our sheriff is easily bribed. Hopefully the townspeople will find a way to replace him soon.”

“That’s terrible! Are the women all right?”

“They are. They’re a little worse for the wear, but they’re strong, and they’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Toria knew there had been some disappearing women back in Beckham as well. What was it with women being considered possessions?

Beatrice sighed. “Our modern world isn’t always a good place, is it?” She stroked the brush through Toria’s hair one last time. “I think it’s as dry as we can get it within our time constraints. Would you like me to put it up for you?”

Toria nodded. She’d always enjoyed it when someone else did her hair for her. “I’d like that, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s good practice for when Sally gets a little older.”

“How old is Sally?”

“We think she’s about thirteen or fourteen months old now. At least that’s what Dr. JT said when he saw her last week for her earache. She’s been walking for about six weeks, so that seems right. We’ve chosen a birthday in mid-September for her.”

Toria frowned. “You chose a birthday? And you don’t know her real age? How can that be?”

“We found her on our doorstep shortly after we married. We’re keeping her, but we don’t have a lot of information about her. My husband is the telegraph operator, so he wired other towns, but no one knows where she came from.”

“That’s really sad. I’m glad she was left with people who will love her and protect her, though.” Toria couldn’t imagine leaving a baby with strangers, but obviously it had worked out for the best for little Sally.

Beatrice made a final twist to Toria’s hair. “There. Let me go get my mirror.” She hurried out of the room, and Toria sat there quietly, wondering for the millionth time if she was making a mistake.

“You’re doing the best thing for both you and Mortimer. Just give him time to see that.”

Toria jumped at the voice, which came from right beside her. “You were on the train!”

“I was, and I wasn’t. I want you to realize everything is going to be fine. You’re doing the right thing, marrying Mortimer.”

Toria sighed. “I don’t think he likes me. He seemed very disappointed when he saw me.” As startling as the woman’s presence always was, Toria seemed drawn to her, and she had no trouble sharing her inner most thoughts. It was odd.

“Give him some time. He had unrealistic expectations.”

“Oh?” How did this woman know what sort of expectations Mortimer had? Did she know him?

“Just give him time. I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Toria, I found it. Arthur must have moved it somewhere unexpected, and I didn’t want to wake the baby by searching for it.”

Toria turned her head when she heard Beatrice calling her name. When she looked back, the woman was gone. She decided not to say a word to Beatrice about her because she didn’t want her new friend to think she’d lost her mind.

She took the mirror from Beatrice and looked into it. Her hair was styled differently than she usually did it, but it looked good. “Thank you so much for your kindness today. I hope we’ll see each other frequently.”

“We definitely will. I provide baked goods for the store to sell. I come in every morning.” Beatrice grinned, accepting the mirror back. “We’ll have to find an afternoon every week where we can visit as well.”

“I’d really enjoy that! I’ll talk to Mortimer about what days the mercantile is the busiest and ask which day he feels like he can spare me.” Toria had no idea how much she’d be working in the store, but she was good at it. She’d even done the books for Sebastian and his wife. She would offer to do the same here if Mortimer needed her to.

“Good. Well, you let me know when. Sally usually naps from about one to three, so I have those hours free. I don’t mind chatting while the baby is up, but she can be a handful.”

The warmth in Beatrice’s voice left no doubt in Toria’s mind about how the other woman felt about her adopted baby. “I love children, and I don’t get to be around them nearly enough.” She’d once babysat for her nephews and nieces, but as soon as they’d become too unruly, she’d stopped—and that hadn’t taken long. They were referred to as the demon horde, after all.

“Well, then we won’t worry about when you come. I almost always have fresh cookies, and I can put water on for tea.”

Toria jumped at a knock on the door. The mysterious woman who kept appearing and disappearing was turning her into a nervous wreck. She watched as Beatrice hurried for the door, getting to her feet. She brushed her dress down, making sure it looked perfect.

Mortimer stood at the door with his hat in hand. “Are you ready?” he asked Toria, and she nodded. He still didn’t look exactly pleased with her, and she thought hard about what she could have possibly done wrong to upset him as soon as they met.

“Yes, just let me fetch my bag.” She’d left it in the kitchen, so she hurried to get it. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Beatrice. I really appreciate it.”

Beatrice smiled, hugging her quickly. “Remember to visit as soon as you can!”

“I will.” Toria let Mortimer take her bag and took the arm he offered her. “Thank you for letting me clean up before the wedding. I can’t imagine how I would have felt marrying without at least washing my hair.”

Mortimer smiled at her, but his smile was tight. She still felt wrong to him. “You look lovely.” It was the truth, though not the whole truth. She’d have looked a lot lovelier if she’d looked just like his Grace.

“Thank you.” Toria scrambled for a subject to discuss with him, not ready for silence between them. “How far is it to the church?”

“Not far. We have a new pastor here in town. He’ll be the one marrying us.”

From his tone of voice, she gathered he didn’t really care for the pastor, but he was all they had. “Do you go to church regularly?”

He nodded. “Now that we have a pastor in town I do. I went to Bachelor for church at least every other week before, but it wasn’t always safe to make the drive.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a very narrow road with a steep drop-off. Beatrice lost her parents there.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

“It is. She’s happy now, but she came into town right after they died and had to marry immediately. It was the only safe thing for her to do.”

Toria frowned. That was the second time people had mentioned safety in this town. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? “I’m glad she found someone who was good to her, then.” She glanced up as she realized they’d reached the church. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Mortimer. It was really the first time she’d studied him. He had brown hair with a receding hairline, and brown eyes. His eyes were actually very nice.

“Are you ready to do this?” he asked. He almost sounded like he was dreading the wedding, and she wasn’t really certain why. He’d sent for a mail order bride.

“I am.” She knew nothing about him except that he was a widower, had a grown son, and ran a mercantile. It was so little to base a lifetime on. Hopefully they would be able to spend a good amount of time getting to know one another before the wedding.

Mortimer opened the door for the church and called out, “Pastor Theodore. Are you still here?”

A sour-faced young man responded from the front of the church. “Yes, I’m here. Are you ready to marry? I’ve delayed going home to wait for you.”

Toria frowned. “Thank you for waiting. I felt the need to clean up before I stepped into God’s house.”

The look on the man’s face changed, and he nodded. “That’s how everyone should be.”

“Shall we begin? I’d like to get my bride home and show her the house.” Mortimer hoped that the rest of the work had been done that day. Hannah had started Monday, and she’d worked Tuesday and Wednesday as well. It hadn’t been quite clean enough for Grace when he’d left. He needed it clean enough for Grace.

Toria took a deep breath, wondering again what on earth she was doing. Ten minutes later, it was all over. Pastor Theodore said, “You may kiss your bride.”

Mortimer leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. He felt strange kissing someone who looked so very different than his late wife, especially in a church. Eventually he was sure he would need to learn to treat her as his bride, but he just wasn’t sure he was ready for that, even though he had been sure he was.

Toria felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. Many men had tried to kiss her, but she’d been determined to save her first kiss for after her marriage. Now she was married and still unkissed. What was wrong with her that he wouldn’t kiss her?

After they’d left the church, Mortimer talked to her as they approached the store. “Grace and I ran this store together for fifteen years. She died five years ago. My son was angry that I was marrying someone else, even though she’s been gone for so long.” Now that John was out of the house, he was lonely. It was as simple as that. He shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life being lonely to make his son happy.

“She sounds like she was a good woman. I’m not sure I could ever take her place, so I’m not going to try. I won’t be a replacement wife, I’ll be more of a new helper.”

Mortimer looked at her, surprised at her insight into how he was feeling. “I appreciate that.”

He led her up the stairs at the back of the store to his living quarters. He’d thought to have her sleeping beside him right away, but he realized she’d be more comfortable with a period of time to get to know him first. He showed her the kitchen, the parlor, and then the bedrooms. There were three bedrooms. One had been his and Grace’s, one John’s, and one had been Grace’s sewing room.

He opened the door of John’s old room and said, “Why don’t you stay here for now? As we get to know each other, perhaps we’ll decide it’s time to share a room.”

Toria nodded, the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She’d talked to Elizabeth about the possibility of asking for time before consummating the marriage, but it was as if he was rejecting her before she even had the chance to discuss it. “That will be fine, thank you.”

“The spare room was Grace’s sewing room, if you’d like to use it for your own purposes.”

She nodded once. She wasn’t sure she needed a sewing room, but she wasn’t going to say that just yet. “I thought you should know that I worked in a store back east. I did the books for the mercantile there, and I am perfectly capable of helping out in the store here…even doing the books, if you’d like.”

He gave her a surprised look. “You can do the books? Really?”

She nodded. “I’m quite good with numbers. If you want to put me on a household budget, I’m happy to be on one.”

“There’s no need. I own the store, after all.” He studied her for a moment, thinking about just how different she was from his Grace. “Would you like to go down and see the store?”

“That would be very nice. I’d like to see where I’ll be working. Tell me, is there a day the store is less busy? When you won’t need me in the afternoons?”

Mortimer shrugged. “You could take off any afternoon you wanted. I’d like if you’d help out in the store on occasion to give my son or me a day off, but I don’t need you consistently. It’ll only be once in a while.”

“I see. Well, Beatrice asked that I come over one afternoon a week to share tea and cookies with her. I think she just wants some female companionship. Would that be a problem for you?” She would need to do something with her time if he didn’t need her in the store. She’d expected at least a week of scrubbing the house to her liking, but it looked as if that had already been done. She’d be sitting with idle hands in no time.

“Not at all. Your main duties will be housework. I had Hannah, one of the woman who was abducted, come in and get the house cleaned for you. There shouldn’t be a great deal to do except cook meals. Please tell me you know how to cook.” So far, everything about her had been different from his Grace. He hoped they had this one thing in common.

“Yes, of course. I enjoy cooking a great deal. I know in your letter you mentioned your love of fresh baked bread, and I will make sure to always have fresh bread on hand. And if you want me to bake extra for the store on top of what Beatrice bakes, you just let me know. I would be happy to help.”

His Grace had been able to cook, but she was a loss at baking. Maybe this woman would be suited for him after all. He pushed open the door to the mercantile, walking in to show her the space. “I put Beatrice’s baked goods over here, and as you can see, we’re already out for the day. She made four dozen cookies, six loaves of bread and two pies today. If you feel like you can bake anything to add to what she brings in, it will be greatly appreciated.”

“I’ll do my best, then. Is there food in the kitchen now? Or should I make some selections for supper?” She saw that he had a cabinet that was kept cold with blocks of ice like they’d had in Beckham. She could easily choose anything necessary for a good meal there.

“There are only a couple of hours until supper time. Just choose something to cook, if you will.” Mortimer looked over at John. “Come over here and meet Toria.” He’d started to call her John’s new stepmother, but he knew his son would take exception to that.

John came over, his arms crossed over his chest and an unhappy look on his face. “I don’t know how she’s going to be half as good at anything as Ma.”

Toria looked him in the eye and smiled. “Don’t think of me as your mother’s replacement, John. Think of me as Toria, a new person altogether. It’s nice to meet you.”

John said nothing in return, merely nodded and walking back to his post behind the cash register.

Toria decided to ignore his rudeness. Instead she walked over and chose some chicken for supper. She assumed everything else she’d need would be in the house. It was only the perishable items she’d have to purchase often. She carried the chicken back to Mortimer. “I’ll turn this into supper, if that works for you.”

Mortimer was still frowning at John. He wasn’t any happier about having someone other than Grace there than his son was, but at least he wasn’t being rude about it. “That’s fine.” He went to the cash register and rang up her purchase as he watched her leave.

Toria carried the chicken up the stairs she’d gone down with Mortimer just minutes before. As soon as she got upstairs, she put a pan with some oil in it on the stove, heating the oil. Then she rolled the chicken in flour before dropping it into the oil. She found a supply of potatoes, and she carefully peeled enough to feed a small army. There was no time to make fresh bread that day, but she’d make some biscuits. She knew it would please him.

As soon as everything was cooking and she had a break, she sank into a chair at the kitchen table, buried her face in her hands, and wept. Her husband was disappointed in her, and he barely knew her. Her new stepson showed only derision. What had she done to deserve this?

She only gave herself five minutes to give in to self-pity, believing that no one should whine about their lives for more than five minutes a day. If you spent more time complaining than that, you were giving into your life as it was, and not working to make things better.

She carefully flipped the chicken before going into her room and changing into a day dress and pulling an apron on over it. She should have done that before starting to cook, but she’d worried that supper wouldn’t be finished in time. Thankfully she’d not made a mess of herself.

Hurrying back into the kitchen, she searched through exactly what ingredients he had, and she found she had everything she needed to make a cake. There was nothing to frost it, but she could use brown sugar and butter and make a caramelized topping that should suit her husband just as well.