Mail Order Brides and The Doctor (A Western Romance Book)

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chapter 1

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1883 Pride Hill, Texas, Late Fall

Irene, mail! Tilda Mann called out in a loud, nasal voice as she came into the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Irene Bailey winced at the sound. Her cousin, Tilda, had an irritating habit of slamming everything. Doors, drawers, windows... if it could be closed, then it ought to be slammed. To Tilda’s mind, that seemed to be the only way to ensure things were shut tight.

Irene had been staying with Tilda for the last few months, after what Tilda referred to as That fiasco of yours in Missouri, which was always followed by, "I don’t know what you were thinking."

The two remarks went together like bread and butter. Irene had learned to ignore it, for the most part, but there were times when it still grated on her nerves. Especially when Tilda flaunted her own marriage and two seemingly perfect children—in Tilda’s opinion—in front of Irene, who was beginning to feel that she was forever destined to remain alone.

Tilda’s smile was as dark as her hair. Her thin body was sickly looking and pale. At least, in Irene’s opinion. Tilda herself seemed to take great pleasure in it, as did her husband. He was always commenting on her lithe figure, sometimes even telling Irene that she ought to lose a few pounds so she could look more like Tilda and maybe attract a man. He would laugh as he said that, then frown thoughtfully.

Irene reached for her mail, and Tilda handed it off to her with a strange look. Irene sighed inwardly, wondering what was on her cousin’s mind now. She slipped the letter into her pocket.

Your hair is a mess, dear, Tilda told her. Is it always this curly? Maybe you’ve had your head in the cupboards too long this morning. If you’re going to clean out my kitchen, you ought to do something about your hair when you’re through. She looked her up and down. And your dress, as well.

Irene automatically began fixing her dark chestnut hair, pushing loose strands back into place. She’d tried to put her hair into a bun, but her curls never wanted to stay. Her figure was fuller than Tilda’s, her curves that much more voluptuous, and she’d not been able to fit into any of Tilda’s house dresses, so Tilda had instructed their housemaid, Lottie, to loan her one or two as they were roughly the same size.

I wasn’t finished cleaning out your cupboards yet, said Irene, or I’d already have changed and freshened my hair.

Tilda tilted her head to the side. Dear, if you weren’t finished with your chores, then why did you come and see me? She was looking at Irene as though she were crazy.

You called me, Irene said.

I most certainly did not, Tilda said.

Irene’s milky skin, something she’d always considered one of her best features, began to flush with irritation. Forgive me cousin, but I believe you did.

Tilda sighed loudly and walked past Irene and into the kitchen. Irene hesitated then followed her. If you’re going to come up with excuses to get out of your chores, Tilda said, then I suggest you try something better. I know for a fact I never called to you specifically, I was merely letting whoever was here know that the mail had arrived. She was staring at Irene again with that same contemptuous look that Irene was coming to loathe.

I’m not trying to get out of anything, Irene said. I’m happy to help with whatever you need while I’m here.

Tilda tipped her head back, looking down her nose at Irene. Gregory’s worried you’re going to live with us forever, she said out of nowhere. She was staring at her with overly arched eyebrows and a that look that had made Irene’s blood boil.

I’ll leave any time my stay has worn out, Irene said, already trying to figure out where she might go next if forced to leave.

Tilda was, unfortunately, all the family she had. If only things had worked out for her in Elmwood, Missouri, she might be living a happy life right now. But the man she’d been contracted to marry had ended up being in love with another woman, and Irene had not been able to hold him to their agreement once she’d realized that. There were plenty of opportunities for mail order brides out there if she wanted to try again, though she did not think that at all likely.

Tilda laughed. Ah ha ha ha ha ha. Leave Gregory to me. You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like. She was still watching Irene as she said that. Just how long do you think that might be though? Just so I can tell Gregory, she added quickly. Not that you need to go anywhere. You don’t. But, after all, I’m sure you’ll not want to live with us forever either. Ah ha ha ha ha ha!

Certainly, I don’t, Irene said, her voice cold, and Tilda’s laughter quieted.

Well, I daresay that no man will want you if you go around looking in tatters. That dress is a bad color for you. I never would have spent any money on it if I were you.

I didn’t. It is your maid’s dress, said Irene. You asked her to give it to me so that I might help her with the cleaning.

Oh, yes, of course, said Tilda. I'd forgotten. Of course, you needn’t help Lottie with her chores if you don’t have a mind to. I only mentioned it in the first place because I thought that if you helped her around the house, you would not feel as though your presence here was a nuisance to us.

Tilda smiled at Irene then as though she expected her to smile back. Irene forced her lips to remain closed and bit back the smart remark growing on her tongue. It was the best she could do.

Tilda waved her hand through the air as if dismissing her. I have some friends coming for tea in a half hour or so. Please go and change. I wouldn’t want to introduce them to my cousin when you’re looking as you are. She paused and put a finger on her chin, thinking. You do fit the look of the housemaid rather well. Perhaps you ought to consider taking it up as a profession.

I’d prefer to do something with my sewing. I’ve always wanted to open a little dress shop.

Tilda laughed. A dress shop? You? Oh no, my dear, that won’t ever happen. You’d do better to stick with being a housemaid. In fact, one of the friends of whom I just spoke is eager to replace her current housemaid. If you like, I shall put in a good word for you.

Irene stared at her cousin completely flummoxed. Ever since her arrival here, Tilda acted as if Irene were nothing but an inconvenience, yet it had been her who’d written in the first place asking Irene to come.

Why did you invite me to stay with you? Irene asked suddenly.

The question threw Tilda off. For the first time in her memory, Irene saw Tilda stutter. I... I... heard about your unfortunate affairs in Elmwood and wanted only to help you.

Yes, but why? You and I had not seen each other in years, and we were never particular favorites of the other.

Tilda pressed her lips together, then her smile suddenly brightened. It was a false smile, meant to put people at ease but having the exact opposite effect on Irene. Tilda leaned in closely as though bringing Irene in on a secret.

To tell you the truth, I heard about what happened to you and I thought we might benefit each other. I’ve not been entirely happy with Lottie for some time now, you see. She stared at Irene with a look that seemed to suggest Irene owed her some gratitude for this last comment.

Irene’s confusion slowly lessened. You wished to replace Lottie with me? she asked.

Tilda shrugged. You needed room and board, and we needed a decent housemaid.

But you’ve just offered to introduce me to your friend who is in need of a maid. Are you saying that I’ve made a poorer maid to than you imagined?

Tilda’s eyes rounded. Not at all, not at all. It’s just that since you’ve arrived, Lottie’s been working twice as hard. I think she felt threatened by you. She’s a far better maid to us now than ever before, and I couldn’t possibly let good help like her go. It’s impossible to find someone with such skills cleaning a stove. She makes it look almost like new.

Irene stared at her cousin a moment longer, no idea what to say to such comments. I’ll just go and change, she finally said and left the room.

Once alone in the smallest guest room where Tilda had put her, the larger guestrooms all needing to remain free in case of unexpected visitors, Irene leaned against the back of the door and closed her eyes breathing deeply.

It is not forever, she told herself. It is not forever.

Yet she knew that if she was not careful, her stay here could turn into forever fairly quickly. Especially if Tilda began setting her up as a housemaid for her friends.

She had almost forgotten the letter she’d slipped into her pocket. She pulled it out now and looked at the return address. It was just as she’d hoped—a letter from Lucy.

Lucille Jordan was her best friend and had begged her to stay on in Elmwood at her residence indefinitely. If not for Tilda’s surprising letter asking her to come, she might have done just that. A tiny voice in the back of her head spoke up just then, planting ideas Irene did not want to hear.

Are you sure about that? Didn’t you want to leave town?

Irene did her best to ignore the voice, but it was even louder and more obnoxious than Tilda’s. It was true that after her fiasco in Elmwood, Irene had intended to stay there despite all that had happened. However, too many people had given her odd looks too many times for her to be comfortable living in that town. She had tried to ignore it all at first, rallied by her friends, particularly Lucy, but to no avail.

Now she regretted her decision to leave but hadn’t courage enough to return. The townspeople who had thought her odd before would only thing her that much stranger if she were to go back. Plus, she had spent what little money she’d had for a ticket out here to Texas. If she were to go back now, she’d have