A Bride in the Bargain Part 5

"Just a little. It's so quiet here, compared to San Francisco."

"Disappointed?"

"Relieved."

He shrugged off his jacket, offering it to her. She slipped it over her shoulders, the scent of cedar enveloping her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She hesitated. "Actually, I'm a bit concerned for my friend, Mrs. Wrenne."

"Is she ill?"

"No, not exactly, it's just that, well," she moistened her lips, "Mr. Mercer promised her a husband, of all things, but the man welshed on his deal."

He lifted his brows. "Why would he do that?"

The anger she'd managed to curb earlier surged to the surface. "Because she doesn't have any teeth."

Surprise flashed across his face. "What happened to her teeth?"

Anna felt her cheeks grow warm. "She lost them."

He studied her, then dragged a hand over his mouth. "We have a fine dentist here. I'm sure he can, um, see to her malady."

"I'm sure he can, for a handsome fee."

"He'll give her a fair price."

"Mrs. Wrenne doesn't have the funds it would require, Mr. Denton. She's dest.i.tute, just like the rest of us."

He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I see."

Anna spun around and faced the street. The lantern by the door threw a pool of light onto the porch, but beyond its arc, her view was limited. "The worst thing about it, though, is that now that I've had a chance to see for myself how many men there are here, I feel certain that if she had her teeth, she'd have no shortage of marriage proposals."

"This Mrs. Wrenne, she's a friend of yours, you say?"

Anna lowered her chin. "Yes. We became very close on the voyage over."

"Where is she now?"

"Trying to sleep."

He stepped beside her, then leaned a hip on the railing. "Well, you tell Mrs. Wrenne to go see Dr. Barnard on Main and not to worry about any of the incidentals. I'll be glad to see to them."

Anna lifted her gaze. The size of him made her want to take a step back, but his words stayed her.

"In exchange for what?"

He blinked. "For a set of teeth, I believe."

"That's it?" It was a brash question, but she'd been poor long enough to learn that nothing was free.

"Do you have some objection?"

"Only if strings are attached."

He frowned. "There are no strings, Miss Ivey. Mrs. Wrenne is new to town. She's alone. We take care of our own here in Seattle."

"Mr. Boynton doesn't."

"Boynton? Don Boynton? Was he the one Mercer a.s.signed to Mrs. Wrenne?"

"I'm not certain of his Christian name, but it did start with a D."

He sighed. "Well, please accept my apology on his behalf."

She tried to read his expression but could find no artifice. "What about her hotel room?"

"I imagine the Occidental will give her credit until she finds a husband. If not, then let me know and I'll see to that as well."

"In exchange for nothing."

"That's right."

"Because Seattle takes care of their own."

"Correct."

His reasons may or may not be genuine, but she could tell his offer was. And, at the moment, that's all that mattered. She allowed herself a slow smile. "Thank you. She'll be so relieved."

"It's my pleasure." He pulled away from the railing. "Now that that's settled, I was wondering if you'd mind getting an early start tomorrow?"

"Not at all."

He nodded. "I appreciate it. My home's a half-day's ride away, so it wouldn't be wise to dally."

"You don't live in town?"

"No. I run a lumber company several miles north of here. Didn't Mercer tell you?"

"He mentioned you were in lumber. I guess I just, well, I didn't think. It makes sense, though. Of course you live out in the lumber camps."

If it was a half-day's ride away, she'd have to board at the camp as well. She schooled her features, hoping to hide her disappointment.

"It's not a big lumber camp," he said. "Not like the kind they have back east. It's a small operation right now. Though it's growing."

"I see."

A burst of laughter from the crowd inside filtered out through the window. She adjusted the jacket on her shoulders, releasing another whiff of cedar. With its warmth, the crisp outside air felt good against her cheeks.

He shifted his feet. "Is seven in the morning too early?"

"Not at all." She wondered if she should mention the fifty dollars, then decided against it. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

"Good. I'll pick you up then. Be sure to have all your belongings ready to go. We'll have breakfast and then, then . . ."

"I understand. I'll be ready."

He blew out a puff of air. "Thank you. And, I just wanted to say, well, you've been a pleasant surprise." He sucked in his breath. "I mean . . . What I was trying to say was . . . I don't want you to think-"

"It's quite all right, Mr. Denton. I've been pleasantly surprised as well."

"You have? Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yes. Well." He tugged at his collar. "I, um, I guess I'll see you in the morning, then." Touching the brim of his hat, he stepped off the veranda and hurried down the boardwalk.

The darkness had swallowed him and the sound of his footsteps when she realized he'd forgotten to take his jacket.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Most of the boys took their breakfast at Yesler's Cookhouse. Not this morning. It was standing room only at the Occidental's dining hall.

Joe hesitated at its threshold.

Alvin Sprygley gave a slow whistle. "Well, would you look at who's all slicked up and raring to go this morning?"

"When you making the jump, Denton?"

"The preacher says Joe and his sewing machine are saying their words this morning."

Doc Maynard whacked him on the back. "You sure aren't wasting any time, are you?"

Somebody from across the room answered for him. "I wouldn't be either if I had a petticoat like Miss Ivey wanting to hogtie me with matrimonial ropes."

"Yeah. I bet she'll put some flavor in his grub."

The ribbing continued, each taunt a little cruder than the last, until Joe was afraid Miss Ivey might overhear when she came down the stairs.

The thought had barely formed when she appeared in the doorway and a hush fell over the room.

She was wearing the same brown, travel-worn dress she'd had on yesterday. And from the looks of it, she'd done some hard living in it. Still, he noted she'd brushed it clean, pinned a piece of jewelry to her chest, and had taken special care with her hair.

No loose tendrils this morning. Everything was all tucked up, secure and tidy. Color filled her cheeks as she hovered at the entrance, scanning the room.

He jumped forward.

Her big brown eyes honed in on him, the full force of them making him miss a step.

"Good morning, Miss Ivey," he said.

"Mr. Denton."

He extended an elbow. "You sleep well?"

"For the most part, thank you."

Between the time he met her at the entrance and then turned back to escort her into the dining hall, a single vacant table had materialized-dead center of the room.

They wove their way through the crowd, every man along the way tipping his hat and murmuring a greeting.

Before Joe had a chance, Niles Embry pulled out Miss Ivey's chair and scooted her into her spot. Joe gave him and everybody else a hard look.

Like a gun at the start of a race, all the men returned their attention to their now-cold food and started conversing amongst themselves-a little too loudly and with a little too much enthusiasm.

But Miss Ivey's shoulders relaxed, so Joe took his chair. Then could think of absolutely nothing to say.

He wanted desperately to study the little piece of frippery she had pinned to her chest. Was it a watch? A family keepsake? Or just a bit of fluff? He was sure she hadn't worn it last night.

He didn't dare lower his gaze, though, for fear she might misinterpret what he was examining.

Unfolding her napkin, she slipped it into her lap. The conversations around them dipped with her movements, then swelled back up. Joe tucked his into the neck of his collar.

Owen Nausley, leading with his ma.s.sive stomach, made his way to their table, his ap.r.o.n smudged with flour and grease, his brown hair sticking out in short tufts. He set two china cups of steaming coffee, complete with saucers, onto their table.

Joe looked askance at the tiny little cups. Where were the mugs?

Standing tall and proud, Nausley pressed his stomach against the side of the table and waited for Miss Ivey's reaction to his coffee. Silence again fell across the room.

Miss Ivey darted a quick look at Joe, then Nausley, then her cup. Picking it up, she brought it to her mouth and blew, her little finger sticking out for balance.

Placing her lips on the edge of the cup, her eyes captured Joe's across the rim as she took a delicate swallow.

He swallowed with her.

Setting the cup down, she pulled the napkin from her lap and touched each side of her mouth. "Delicious."

The noise in the hall rose to new heights. Nausley beamed, showing a set of teeth that looked like piano keys-one white, one black hole, one white, one black hole.

Joe emptied his cup in one swallow and shoved it into Nausley's beefy hand. "I'll have about twelve of those."

But his sarcasm didn't faze Nausley, as the cook took the cup and practically floated back to the kitchen-if that were possible for a man his size-the men slapping him on the shoulders as he pa.s.sed.