Chapter One
Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 1890
Lucie Croft stared out of the window, the glass covered with a hazy film of ash and smoke from the locomotive’s smokestack. Occasional sparks of red-hot cinders hit the outside, leaving a darker circle of soot in its place. She fought an overwhelming urge to jump off the train as the landscape sped by and her new life in Chattanooga drew closer.
She sighed. Agreeing to be a mail-order bride had been a ridiculous idea. How was she supposed to find happiness with a complete stranger? But agreeing to marry an unknown man had been her only viable option. No matter where she and her brother ended up, she would make sure he was taken care of.
The man sitting next to her on the bench seat slowly tilted toward her. For the fourth time since he’d boarded the train in Knoxville, he’d fallen asleep. His body pressed against hers and his head dropped onto her shoulder. She scowled at the top of his balding head in disgust. How could anyone sleep so much?
To get her mind off of her own troubles, she glanced around the still-crowded car. Most of the people were well dressed with a definite air of wealth as they turned up their noses at the few who weren’t. A little girl lay curled up on the seat closest to the door, her head resting on the thigh of the man next to her. Lucie raised her gaze from the little girl’s to the man’s very handsome face. She couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between them. His brown hair was the same shade as the little girl’s. Their skin was lightly tanned.
They were definitely related, yet Lucie hadn’t seen a woman with them. She wondered if they, too, were traveling to Chattanooga, and if the little girl’s mother was already there waiting for them to arrive.
The man looked up from the paper he’d been studying and met her gaze. Her heart did a strange flip-flop in her chest, which seemed unnaturally tight. She fidgeted in her seat, but the pressure remained as she stared into his brown eyes.
“Lucie! Lucie!” Alex exclaimed, pulling her attention away from the man. Her brother’s eyes were bright, and excitement filled his voice. He pointed at the houses passing by through the train’s large glass window.
She raised her brows, loving his enthusiasm, inhaling the calming, wood-scented air. It would do neither him nor her any good if she became maudlin.
The man lying against her mumbled something then jerked, his elbow jabbing her in her side. She scooted closer to Alex, but what she really wanted to do was shove the bald man to the floor. She rubbed her sore ribs, mentally tallying how many times he’d done that—four or five at least. At this rate, she was going to be black-and-blue before reaching Chattanooga.
She bit back a sigh and rested her head against the back of the seat, not wanting Alex to see how worried she was. She forced her gaze on the narrow door leading to the next train car…but she wanted to look at the man again.
At nineteen years, she felt old and worn. She could only hope and pray that their new home was an improvement over the filthy tenant room they’d lived in. Eating real food would be a nice change as well.
She picked at her only dress, the baggy fit unbecoming. Alex’s clothes weren’t much better. Not only had he outgrown them, but there were holes in the knees and elbows, and he was missing a button. Even his shoes were too small, but she had no extra money to buy him anything new.
Staring down at her tightly clasped, gloved hands, she let out a small sigh. She was tired of trying to provide and miserably failing.
Alex tugged on her arm, again pointing to something outside. “Look, sissy—look at all the trees. And there’s mountains here, and the train looks like it’s headin’ straight for them. Are we gettin’ close to our new home?” He turned and gave her a big grin. “Do you think your new husband will let me have a horse?”
She chuckled. “From what Mr. Crenshaw wrote in his letter, he lives in town, so I think you will have to wait on the horse.”
“Figures.” His smile slipped then widened again. “Maybe I’ll find somebody my age who has one. Maybe even two!”
“That’s a good possibility. We’ll get you enrolled in school and before you know it, you’ll have lots of friends.”
His attention moved back to the passing countryside. “I know. Not worried ‘bout that much. Had me a ton of friends back home.”
Lucie followed her brother’s gaze, but the green and blue blur of trees and hills held no real interest. She wondered what her new husband was like. In his letter, he’d written that he was a businessman…but hadn’t stated what his business was. Other than his impersonal description of himself—slightly overweight with a full head of blond hair and mutton-chop whiskers—she knew nothing about him other than his name. Harold Crenshaw. Even his name didn’t stir any interest.
The train jerked and the constant clacking of the wheels slowed. “Sissy, we’re here! We’re here!”
“Shhhh. I can see that, and now everyone else in the car knows too.” She glanced at the handsome man in the seat ahead of her, the hint of a smile on his lips. Her heart did the strange flip-flop again, and she dropped her gaze to her brother’s small face.
He gave her a chagrined look, one side of his mouth raising. “Sorry. I’m just excited is all. We’ve never gone on a trip before. Papa always promised he’d take me on a train, but…”
She pushed the lock of light brown hair off his forehead. “I know.”
His shoulders drooped a bit. “He would’ve though.”
“Of course he would have. Papa always kept his promises, Alex. If our parents hadn’t died, many things would’ve been different.” With her finger under his chin, she raised his face. “Let’s look at this as a fun adventure, all right? I’m sure Mr. Crenshaw won’t mind if we explore the city together after we get settled in.”
Alex grabbed her hand, clasping it between his own. “Like we used to?”
“Like we used to. Deal?”
He gave her a wide smile, his eyes twinkling. “Deal.”
The train slid to a jerky stop and everyone rose, grabbing their belongings and heading toward the door. She waited until they were the last ones, then pulled her own small bag out from beneath the seat. She hugged it to her chest and stepped onto the wooden platform. Glancing behind her to make sure Alex followed, she walked through the wide arched doorway and into the station’s large interior.
Along the far wall were the ticket and baggage offices. To their left, she watched men enter another room while the women and children waited on the wooden benches in the center of the station. The man and the little girl were nowhere to be seen.
She led Alex over to an empty bench and sat, placing her bag beside her. “Mr. Crenshaw must be running a bit late, so we’ll make ourselves comfortable here until he arrives.”
“Do you think he’ll get here soon? I’m starving.”
She gave him a mock scowl. “I swear. What did you do with the two sandwiches you inhaled?”
“That was close to three hours ago! It’s almost time for dinner now.”
She shook her head. “Four o’clock is not almost dinnertime. I’m sure Mr. Crenshaw will arrive shortly, so you’re just going to have to be patient.”
He frowned and slumped down in the seat.
* * *
“Sissy? I don’t think he’s coming for us,” Alex said, his voice sounding small in the large room.
For the hundredth time, Lucie glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind the clerk selling tickets. Eight thirty. Her stomach rumbled. She closed her eyes a moment then turned to face her brother. “I think you’re right.”
Two men walked to the ticket counter; the larger of the two turned and looked in their direction. He was tall and muscled without an ounce of fat, as if he did strenuous activity on a daily basis. His hair was still thick, though salt–and-pepper gray underneath his hat, but it was the long, droopy mustache that reminded her of a cowboy. At least the pictures she’d seen of them in newspaper articles her father had collected. He’d been fascinated by them, often referring to them as ‘those courageous men’.
She’d loved the tales he’d told her—driving great herds of cattle across the nation, battles with storms, heat, and Indians. Most likely, some reporter had a vivid imagination and fancied himself a fiction writer. But still…the stories had been riveting.
“Why is that man staring at us? Have we done something wrong?”
Lucie glanced at her brother’s worried face. “Of course we haven’t. We have every right to sit here for as long as we want. We’re not causing trouble. Why do you ask?”
“He’s walkin’ this way, and he’s wearin’ a badge on the left side of his vest. The man from the train—the one with the little girl—is with him.”
She threw the stranger a quick frown but lowered her gaze back to her brother. “Maybe he’s looking for someone?”
Staring at the locomotive sitting on the far side of the depot shed, she sighed. From the way they were focused on the two of them, she had the feeling the two men were looking for her and her brother.
“Ma’am?”
The low, gravelly voice startled her, and with a smothered yelp she twisted around in her seat. Standing beside her was the sheriff, his bright silver star now plainly visible right where Alex said it was. It was hard for her to tell his age from his weathered face, but she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the outer corners when he smiled. If that was what he was doing. She couldn’t really tell since his mustache covered most of his mouth. The man from the train didn’t look very happy as he stood quietly behind the sheriff.
“Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t mean to give you a scare. Name’s John Gurley. Would you, by chance, be Lucie Croft from Massachusetts?
“I am,” Lucie responded in a small voice. “Have we done something wrong?”
He shook his head, his dark gray eyes twinkling. “No, ma’am, but I do need to have a word with you.” He glanced around the station. “The man at the ticket counter said you’d been here a while. I’ve sat on those benches, and, after about an hour or so, you quit feeling your backside, if you know what I mean.”
Her twisted stomach relaxed, and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth curling up if she’d wanted. She liked the man’s frankness. “I would have to completely agree with you there, sir. We’re waiting on someone. Maybe you know him? Mr. Harold Crenshaw?”
He stared over their heads with a frown, his shaggy eyebrows giving him a fierceness that belied his gentle manner. “Well now, ma’am, that’s what I need to discuss with you.” He motioned to the man behind him with a quick twist of his head.
The younger man stepped forward. She pressed her fisted hand against her midsection, her stomach clenching at the rumble of his deep voice. He was even more handsome up close.
Two long fingers tugged on the brim of his hat. “Ma’am, I’m Sebastian McCord. I own the McCord Hotel a few blocks from here. I would like to offer you and your young friend there a meal.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. We are both hungry, but I don’t have enough money to buy two meals. Mr. Crenshaw only sent enough money for the train fare.
Alex tugged on her sleeve. “Please, sissy. I’m starving!”
She smiled. “Yes, I know you are. You haven’t let me forget it, have you?”
His cheeks turned pink, but he shook his head. “I just didn’t want you to forget, that’s all.”
She stood and picked up her bag, which the sheriff took from her. It looked so small in his large grasp and followed the two men from the station.
“Where are you taking us, sheriff?”
“Please, call me John.”
She hurried to keep up, almost jogging after the men’s log stride as they headed down a paved street. They passed a huge, red-bricked building sporting a fancy front façade and two balconies with a matching balustrade across the rooftop. The yellow light emanating from the large windows was bright and cheery in the growing dusk.
“What’s that place?” Alex asked.
“That’s the Read House. Right nice hotel, but costly. The McCord’s one block over,” Sheriff Gurley answered.
They rounded the corner of another building and crossed the street. The McCord Hotel was impressive. The outside was covered in a dark wood, reminding her of an old drawing room turned inside out. It, too, had bright yellow light pouring through two large windows onto the wooden sidewalk. As they walked through the front door, she glanced down, noticing two strange half-windows on either side that disappeared below the walkway.
Stepping inside, she was even more surprised. The same dark wood covered everything from the walls to the square tables filling the room, as well as the huge bar at the far end. The heady scent of cooked meat and fresh bread filled her nostrils. Her stomach promptly let out a loud growl.
“This is…beautiful.” Lucie said, her voice disappearing in the loud laughter and low rumble of voices talking. In the far corner of the room, a man sat at in front of an upright piano energetically pounding out the tinny notes to an unfamiliar song. Most of the tables were filled with people eating, and all but three of the barstools were occupied.
“Thank you,” Mr. McCord said. “I think so too.”
Running almost the entire width of the room, the wooden counter ended near the wide-mouthed opening of a large staircase. A thin male stood behind the counter, staring at them with a tight-lipped smile as they made their way across the room to one of the tables.
Lucie’s gaze moved from the sheriff’s to Mr. McCord’s then back with a slight frown. “Sheriff, you said you needed to discuss something with me about my intended?” She tried to control the shivers taking control of her body.
He gave her a short nod. “All right, ma’am. I came to tell you Mr. Crenshaw was found dead this morning. I would’ve been by the station sooner, but my deputy didn’t come across your letter until about an hour ago.”
“What are we going to do now?” she whispered and grabbed for her brother’s hand. Her lungs refused to take in air, and the room darkened. The men’s faces in front of her blurred. Letting out a small cry, Lucie fell to the floor.
* * *
“Sissy! Sissy!” The boy dropped to his sister’s side and patted her cheek. Raising his tear-streaked face, he begged, “Please, help my sister!”
With a small sigh, Sebastian scooped the waif of a girl into his arms and strode toward the stairwell, not noticing the grandness of the hotel’s furnishings. He’d worked hard to pay off the mountain of father’s debts after building the hotel. ‘Nothing but the finest,’ he’d said.
He strode by the spindle-legged chairs square table nestled between them on the landing. Moving past the dark wood gracing the bottom half of the hallway walls, and the expensive jewel-toned carpet covering the planked floor muffled his heavy tread. He stopped at the end of the hall and, using the toe of his boot, kicked his mother’s door.
“Mother, open the door!”
The door opened. His mother’s frown quickly changed to one of concern. “Sebastian! What’s going on? What happened to her?” She stepped back and let the men in, the young boy holding tightly onto the sheriff’s hand. “John, come in, come in.” Turning to her son, she motioned with a quick flick of her wrist toward his old bedroom. “Lay the poor girl on the bed.”
He strode into the room and laid her on the blue and yellow quilt covering the small bed, his arms strangely empty as he stared down at her sleeping face for a moment. The girl was pretty. She was too thin, and her features too sharp to be beautiful. Her dress was worn and dirty from the train ride—and looked to be two sizes too big.
His mother followed him into the room, tsking the entire time she unlaced the girl’s boots, dropping them to the floor. He stared at the worn soles, a small hole in one where the ball of her foot would be.
Glancing up, he noticed his mother had already pulled another quilt over her and had her tucked into bed. She was motioning for him to leave, and his gaze rested on the girl’s face a moment before he followed his mother out of the room, partially closing the door behind him.
Walking into the large sitting room, she headed toward the boy and kneeled in front of him. “Hello. My name is Martha.”
Alex glanced up at the sheriff who nodded down at him with a smile. He met the woman’s gaze. “My name is Alex—Alexander Croft. Is my sister going to be okay?”
Martha smiled. “I will take very good care of her. Are you hungry?”
Alex’s eyes widened. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Sheriff, please take Alex downstairs and get him some supper. I’m sure Cook still has some of his delicious stew left.”
After the door closed behind them, she turned around and met Sebastian’s gaze with a frown. “Please explain.”
He moved toward the door. “There’s not much to explain, really. The sheriff asked me to go with him to Union Station to try and find a woman. I did, and we found her.”
“If you found her at the station then why is she lying unconscious in your old bedroom?”
He took a deep breath. “She was told her intended was found dead, and passed out.” He shrugged. “What was I supposed to do?”
Martha shook her head, momentarily closing her eyes. “You were right to bring her here, the poor dear. Now go downstairs and make sure John is taking care of Alex.”
“John? Since when did you start calling him by his first name?”
She pushed him toward the door. “Shush. Get downstairs and tell Cook to send up a bowl of stew for my new guest.”
In the hall, he turned back to his mother. “And my daughter?”
She smiled. “She’s asleep in my room. Probably exhausted after terrorizing the kitchen staff by helping them serve the food after you left with John. You really should think about finding yourself another wife. Your daughter needs a mother.”
“My daughter is just fine. Besides, she has you. She doesn’t need a mother.”
His mother placed her dainty hand on his arm, her bright blue eyes staring into his. “It’s been almost one year since Maggie died.”
“She didn’t just die, mother. She ran out on Stella and me. That’s a bit more than just dying, don’t you think?”
“Yes. What your wife did was wrong. Running away with that scalawag and leaving you and her daughter was unforgivable. But murdered by the man she ran away with? No one should die like that.”
Sebastian forced his angry retort back down his throat and into the large reservoir of hatred he felt for his wife. He turned and walked down the hall. His mother was wrong. The last thing he wanted was a wife, or a mother for his daughter. He’d vowed to never marry, and he aimed to keep that promise.
End of Chapter One
To learn how Lucie deals with being stranded and if Sebastian breaks his promise to himself, grab your copy of Lucie: Bride of Tennessee by clicking the link below.
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