A Bride in Store Read online

  “Oh no. We’re—”

  “My former fiancé pretended to be interested in me long enough to steal my father’s business contacts.” She smiled, though she winced with the effort. “Now we’re all equally embarrassed.”

  Will ran a hand through his hair. At least his soon-to-be competition seemed honest and forthright. “You could have kept that a secret. We didn’t need to know.”

  She shrugged. “Might as well tell you before the town speculates.”

  The door to the mercantile opened, and Kathleen stepped outside. “Are we ready?”

  Will cleared his throat. “I think I’m going to bow out. This is the day my family comes into town.” He sneaked a glance toward Miss Cantrell, but she didn’t seem disappointed. Not that she had a reason to be. “I’ll eat with you another day.”

  Will had no sooner picked up the pistol he’d been trying to repair all morning than the store’s bell kicked into a tinny chime up front.

  He’d returned from stitching up Miss Cantrell to find two men waiting impatiently at his door and had just finished helping them load their wagons and then downed some crackers and dried fruit. When would he be able to finish this pistol? Watching the store by himself proved impossible for getting gun work done. Gunsmithing was more profitable than the store, but repair work alone wouldn’t keep them afloat.

  “William?”

  “Back here, Nettie Bug!” Reaching under the desk, he snagged some lollipops and stuffed them into his pants pocket. He walked out from behind the counter to wait for his littlest sister, an awkward flurry of ruffles, lace, and brown ringlets. Her tiptoe gait nearly sent her into a shelf before he swept her up.

  His taller-than-average pa, Dex Stanton, and another little sister, Becca, strolled up the middle aisle while Nettie patted his chest pocket.

  He grinned. “Not even a hello for big brother, eh? Candy’s more important?”

  “Pwease.” She batted her long eyelashes.

  Sighing, he pulled out the lollipops. “I give in.”

  The bell clanged again. Hopefully his brothers were coming in with his mother and Emma. They’d be handy for a quick unloading job.

  Instead Miss Cantrell stepped through the doorway and walked straight to the display of wilting wild flowers. Though he never would have considered fresh flowers to sell well in a store meant to carry anything and everything manly, they sold enough to be worth the trouble.

  Pa squatted beside Becca to help unwrap her candy. “Guess we ought to wait until after you help your customer.”

  Will lowered his voice. “She’s not here to buy anything.” Snooping on her competition most likely. Why else would she have come in?

  “Oh?” Pa smiled as he scanned Miss Cantrell. “Should I know this girl?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just . . . I met her today. You heard the train was robbed?”

  His father nodded.

  “Unfortunately, she no longer has any money.” Will craned his neck. Miss Cantrell was absorbed in picking through the flowers, apparently safely out of earshot.

  “So she’s here to see you?”

  Will shook his head vehemently. “No, she—” Had the Hampdens told her he co-owned the place?

  Miss Cantrell moved to a pile of unopened boxes and frowned.

  “I’ll introduce you, but don’t volunteer any information about me.” If she didn’t know he was the proprietor, maybe she’d discuss her business plans now that the Hampdens weren’t around. Then he could determine whether or not she was a real threat to their business.

  “This sounds promising.”

  Did Pa actually rub his hands together?

  As if Mrs. Graves seeing him blushing over Eliza weren’t bad enough, Pa was likely to tease him to death.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking.” Will jiggled Nettie. “Come and meet a friend.”

  Pa glared at Nettie settled in his arms, but Will ignored the look. He insisted his parents make her walk on her own, but he could break his own rule. It was, after all, his fault she had Little’s disease and walked so poorly, often tripping and falling over nothing.

  Becca grabbed his free hand and checked on the ring she’d made him a year ago. Thankfully, he’d spun the grinning bead back up after successfully stitching Miss Cantrell’s cheek, otherwise Becca would have scolded him for not wearing the ring right.

  “Miss Cantrell?” He turned the corner. “I’m surprised to see you in the Men’s Emporium.”

  She startled and bit her lip, then immediately winced.

  He sucked air through his teeth in sympathy. That couldn’t have felt good.

  “Yes . . . well . . .” He’d expected a blush to creep into her cheeks at being caught spying on her competition, but not so. She shoved her hands behind her back and glanced over his shoulder toward the back. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stanton.” She took a quick look at his sisters. “Are you out shopping?”

  Ah, so she still didn’t know he owned the store. Good. “My family is.” Will gave his father a look, pleading for silence. But the giddy gleam in Pa’s eye wasn’t promising.

  “May I introduce them, since they’re rarely in town?” At her nod, he jiggled the bundle in his arms, who kept her hand tightly gripped to the sucker stick in her mouth. “This little one is Nettie, and the butterball staring up at you is Becca, and this is my father, Dex Stanton. Everyone, this is Miss Cantrell, Salt Flatts’ newest resident.”

  Pa tipped his hat. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve got a wife and three more children down at the mercantile. No, wait—here they are.” He rushed to open the front door.

  Will took a step back. No use giving Ma any reason to assume he was interested in Eliza. “That’s my mother with Emma.”

  Ma and his oldest sister bustled through the door, his gangly brothers behind them.

  “And my two brothers, Ambrose and John. Be careful with your lunch; they eat anything that doesn’t move.”

  Both boys pulled off their hats. “Ma’am.”

  Pa walked Ma up to Eliza, his eyes twinkling. “Miss Cantrell, let me introduce my wife, Rachel Stanton. She’s ever so happy to meet you.”

  Will cleared his throat as loud as he could without hurting his vocal cords.

  “What happened to your face?” Becca blurted.

  Pa set a huge hand on Becca’s head. “Now, that’s not a polite question to ask a stranger.”

  “That’s all right.” Eliza attempted a small smile. The laudanum’s effect had to be wearing off, so she’d likely endured a painful pull with the gesture. “Your brother sewed up a gash on my cheek this morning.”

  Again Eliza glanced toward the back. What was she looking for?

  Ma took a step toward Eliza, but Pa put a hand to her arm. “Well, I see we’re intruding. We’ll be back later.”

  “We will?” Ma’s face was as confused as Eliza’s. She normally did all the talking, and she’d yet to say a thing.

  With a smirk, Pa took Nettie from Will but then let her slip to the floor, keeping a firm grip on her. “I forgot we’ve got business with, uh, Mr. Raymond, and the girls should eat their lollipops outside. Nice to meet you, Miss Cantrell. Hope to see you very often.”

  Did Pa just wink at her? He shot his father a warning glare, though it would likely do no good.

  “Yes, good to meet you.” Ma gave Pa a sizzling look, but those big brown eyes would sparkle with a matchmaking gleam the second Pa filled her in on his assumptions.

  Will sighed.

  But he had to admit the thought of his parents playing matchmaker didn’t sound so bad if they set their sights on Miss Cantrell.

  But he’d only met Miss Cantrell a few hours ago. What was wrong with him?

  The doorbell dinged several times as his family cleared the door.

  “I didn’t mean to scare them away.” She fingered a dying daisy. “Though I don’t know why my presence would keep them from shopping.”

  Will shrugged. “Can’t shop with sticky lollipop hands.�
�� He pointed to the wild flowers. “Are these what brought you in?” When would she admit she wasn’t there to shop but snoop?

  She stared at the lackluster display. Why hadn’t he replaced the sad bunches this morning?

  “I think it’s rather clever for the store owner to provide men with an easy way to show affection for their ladies, don’t you?”

  “Would you want someone to buy you one of these?” He pulled out the bouquet in which he’d stuffed some whitish-pink flowers he’d found. Frowning, he tugged out a wilted one.

  “I’d find them pleasant enough.” She waved at the sorry mess he held. “While they aren’t spectacular, most women, I assume, would appreciate something over nothing. Though it’d be better if the man picked these weeds himself if he wanted her to experience any romantic notions. Imagine the money . . .” Her voice lowered. “Imagine how much the proprietor could make if these weren’t flowers you could find in a ditch.”

  Will frowned at the lifeless bundle tickling his hand. It wasn’t his fault only spindly yellow and white flowers seemed to be blooming. “I suppose a woman like you would want a hothouse bouquet.”

  “Oh no. I don’t expect a man to offer me flowers.”

  Why was that? “Miss Cantrell, you sell yourself short. A man would feel foolish offering you weeds if he had roses.”

  “What?” Her visible cheek pinked.

  Some part of him—an inane, irrational, senseless part, to be sure—desperately wanted to tell her he’d picked these himself . . . but of course, not for her. He shoved the flowers back into their hole. “Well, if a man could get you a better bouquet, he’d do so.”

  “Is there a hothouse around here?”

  “No.” As a city girl, she was about to get a rude awakening. “This is the middle of Kansas, not . . . Where are you from again?”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Starting a hothouse might be a good idea.” Maybe he could get her interested in a business not directly in competition with them. “I don’t know how big of a town you’d need to support such a thing, but that’s something to check into.”

  She shook her head, the smile patronizing. “I’ve never grown a thing, and that’s a limited venture.”

  Limited, eh? “Well, it’s not that these sell a lot anyway, so you might have a point.”

  She pulled a nosegay out of the bucket and peered in. “There’s no water in the bottom. It would help if . . . Wait.” She looked at him. “How do you know whether these sell or not?”

  Blast it, he’d ratted on himself. “I’m the one who sells them.”

  She looked toward the windowed storefront, her lips soundlessly forming the words Men’s Emporium. “Um . . .”

  “But you know what? I need a woman’s advice on things like these. Maybe we could work together and—” He clamped his lips. What was he thinking? They couldn’t afford a clerk.

  She certainly seemed to think she could run a store, but the only way they could take on a woman business partner was if one of them married her. With her being penniless and their needing help so badly . . . He coughed against the knot in his throat. “I mean, let me think about a way we could help one another.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  The woman was as stubborn as his mother. Of course she needed help. “Sure you do. First thing we need to do is find your family.” Why hadn’t Carl or Kathleen escorted her to them earlier?

  “Um . . .” She glanced back at the window again. “I expected to find him here.”

  A man?

  “Your father? An uncle?”

  She swallowed twice before wincing as she spoke. “Fiancé, actually.”

  “Oh.” Whatever had clumped in his throat earlier sank into his gut. “You thought he’d be shopping?” Of course, the first woman since Nancy who made him inexplicably jittery was spoken for. “Why didn’t he meet you at the station?”

  “Because I came earlier than expected. You don’t happen to know an Axel Langston?”

  Will’s face cooled instantly.

  “I thought he ran . . . the Men’s Emporium . . .” Eliza’s face paled as well.

  “You’re . . . his . . .”

  “Mail-order bride.” She put a hand to her chest. “So that makes you . . .”

  “His business partner.”

  The finger she’d pointed at him slowly descended. “Yes, I should’ve guessed.”

  They stood staring at each other.

  “Where’s Axel?”

  “Not here.” He had no notion of his friend’s whereabouts—like too often lately. “I last saw him two days ago.”

  “I was afraid of that.” She sighed. “He mentioned he did some trapping to offset the store’s losses. When do you expect him back?”

  Why would Axel tell her that? The scraggly pelt Ned Parker had brought in months ago hadn’t sold—and Axel wasn’t much of a hunter. “I don’t know when he’s returning.”

  Why, oh why, had he ever persuaded Axel to pursue mail-order brides?

  Chapter 3

  “So . . . this is the store.” Eliza frowned at the mostly unorganized merchandise behind Mr. Stanton.

  Axel couldn’t be gone for long. He knew she was coming. She’d arrived early, so she’d figured on being a surprise, but not penniless with no one to turn to.

  How would working with William go while her fiancé was absent? She’d basically told him she planned to run this store after he’d stitched her up. What did he think of her boast now?

  “Yes, the store.” William fiddled with the ring he’d played with after stitching her up. A simple braided multi-thread band with a bead featuring a smiling face in the center. “I thought you might’ve come in to observe our methods . . . not because you intended to run this store. But, well . . .” He swung his hand halfheartedly at the three aisles of rough shelving. “What do you want to see? It’s not much.”

  He turned away, but his muttered obviously didn’t elude her detection.

  The man’s confidence had flattened within seconds. Was he afraid she’d belittle him for their struggling store? “I can see you’ve worked hard with the setup.”

  Probably best not to mention the things she wanted to change based on Axel’s correspondence. Not today anyway. “The flowers—”

  “Yes, Axel suggested that a month ago. I told him flowers in a men’s store was silly, but they haven’t done too poorly. I think the window display helps sell them.”

  Yes, the dapperly dressed mannequin holding a bouquet of fake flowers, giving any passing woman the idea her husband might turn into a dashing, flower-wielding man if she’d encourage him to shop there. But Axel hadn’t concocted the flowers and the display, she had. “This was Axel’s idea?”

  “He’s had several good ones lately. I was skeptical of this one, but it didn’t hurt anything.”

  Ah . . . if William hesitated to accept Axel’s ideas despite the rationale, he’d no doubt question the efficacy of a woman’s ideas.

  At least Axel believed in her enough to implement them.

  She fingered the rows of various shaving soaps, colognes, and brushes sitting on a nearby shelf, wreaking havoc with the floral scent by adding hints of sandalwood and bay rum. “I see you’ve arranged these attractively.” She’d move them away the first chance she got, so no customer would get a headache.

  “Yes, another of Axel’s suggestions. If customers can easily access often-needed items, we won’t need to waste time gathering things for them.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “Care to show me around?”

  “We could wait until—”

  “No, I’d like your opinion on how things are displayed, what you think needs improvement . . .” Might as well start working. “See if I can suggest anything to help.”

  William’s features transformed from uncomfortable to wary. “How do you know about retail, exactly?”

  “I’ve worked behind the counter of a successful mercantile since I was nine.” Since h
er mother had abandoned them. She’d omit the part where her father died and left everything to her brother, who’d hardly done anything in the store beyond push a broom and who somehow thought her unnecessary once he inherited the store.

  Zachary was lazy and she’d told him so, told him how quickly he’d lose the store if he didn’t let her manage it. Soon he’d discover the truth of it, but she’d not go back to save him. Especially after he told her not to return and beg him for money when her inheritance ran out. And it had definitely run out—out a passenger-car door and into the tall prairie grass in the pocket of some lout.

  “So why’d you come to Kansas, then?” William scratched at the back of his head.

  She bit her lip. No sense in making herself seem less capable than she was. “A long story.”

  He glanced at his timepiece. “It’s close to quitting time. Has someone gotten your things from the depot and taken them to . . . Uh, where are you staying?”

  “Good question. I’ve no money. And without Axel . . .” Where could she stay?

  William looked up at the ceiling and gritted his teeth. “I’m not sure it’d be right for you to stay upstairs in Axel’s quarters while I’m downstairs in the back room.”

  “No, that won’t work.” She’d known Axel lived above the store, but William stayed in the building too? “Well, today’s fiasco is my reward for spontaneity. I’ll never do that again.” She’d thought her early arrival would be a fun surprise for her husband-to-be, but with him out of town, what was she to do?

  She had wanted to work in the store this afternoon and learn as much as she could from Axel, but now she’d have to find a place to stay. “With Axel unexpectedly gone and me without money, do you have any idea of where I could go?”

  William’s cheek twitched as he stared out the window at the fairly busy street. Not that it was as busy as the main thoroughfare her father’s shop had been on. “My parents don’t have room and neither do Axel’s, I’m afraid.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and stilled. “Mrs. Lightfoot.” He marched to the front door. “You could stay with her.” He opened the door and hollered the name again.