A Bride for Noah Read online

  If only he’d figured that out before he’d squandered his inheritance on that deceitful woman back in San Francisco.

  Chattanooga, Tennessee

  The morning was well underway when Mr. Coffinger finally put in an appearance downstairs. As was her custom, Mrs. Coffinger would linger in her upstairs sitting room until after lunch, when Evie could clear the lunch tray and begin her afternoon duties cleaning the bedrooms.

  Mr. Coffinger hummed a monotone tune as he descended the stairway. He nodded absently toward Evie, who was sweeping the hallway carpet runner, and continued past her to the library. A moment later the heavy oak door closed behind him with a soft click.

  Particles of dust rose in puffs from the carpet as Evie changed the direction of her efforts and swept toward the closed door. Sleep had eluded her last night, so tumultuous were her thoughts. In the past five days she had become more certain that James’s true intention in marrying her had been to gain control of Grandfather’s house. One moment she’d berated herself for her uncharitable attitude toward him, but the next she remembered the neighbors selling their properties one by one to business owners as the railroad track down Mulberry Avenue had neared completion. She remembered the men who knocked on Grandfather’s door with their offers, which he had sternly refused to entertain. And James’s words from that night had echoed in her mind. You’re attractive enough. I’m fond of you. And, of course, the ones that rankled. Are you so ignorant? Foolish is as foolish does.

  James was a fine man, not afraid to work. He had goals, and ambition enough to attain them. She also had to admit that he was something of an opportunist, no doubt a necessary quality for a man with lofty aspirations. He would make a fine husband for someone.

  But not for her.

  The realization brought with it a curious sense of relief. The fact that she was not devastated at the idea of ending her relationship with James proved that what she had assumed to be love had been something else entirely. Fear, perhaps, of being alone in the world after Grandfather’s death. Anxiety at the approach of her twenty-third birthday, an age at which most young women were safely wed and raising a family. Marriage had seemed a logical step to relieve her of the looming fear of a lonely spinster’s life. But not marriage to a man she did not love and who described his affections for her as mere fondness.

  With the coming of dawn this morning, clarity had arrived. Why must she rely on anyone else to make her future? Many women made their own way in the world without the benefit of a husband. Look at Mrs. Browning, the widow who ran the boardinghouse where she lived. Evie was certainly as capable of earning her way.

  Leaning her broom handle against the wall, she paused for a moment in front of Mr. Coffinger’s library to gather her thoughts. Swallowing past a lump of nerves, she lifted her hand and rapped quietly on the door.

  “Yes?” came the muffled reply from inside.

  She cleared her throat and cracked open the door enough to stick her head through. “Might I have a word with you, sir?”

  He was seated behind the big wooden desk, his head bent over a paper. Dark pouches dragged at the skin beneath red-rimmed eyes. He must have had as restless a night as she.

  She looked around the room, curious. Her housecleaning duties excluded this room, which was Mr. Coffinger’s domain. Bookshelves lined the walls, though most were only half-filled with bound volumes. Stacks of papers occupied much of the writing table and many of the shelves as well. Though sunlight filtered through the tall windows behind the desk, the odor of lamp oil clung to the air.

  He raised his head to look her full in the face and leaned back in the tall leather chair. The mustache twitched, indicative of a hidden smile.

  “Of course, Miss Lawrence. Come in and be seated.” He gestured toward a wooden chair resting against one wall.

  Evie lowered herself into the chair, nerves doing battle in her stomach. In the predawn light, her resolve had been firm. Now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she really was the fool James claimed her to be.

  “If you’ve come to ask for an increase in your wages, let me save us some time and tell you I am not in a position…”

  “No,” she hurried to say. “That’s not it at all. I’d like to continue our conversation from a few nights past.”

  Mr. Coffinger rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and entwined his fingers across his middle. “I must confess to some surprise. When we spoke I had the impression I’d offended you.”

  No use denying the truth. “I was…taken aback by your parting comment. But I’ve since considered your words and have some questions.”

  A gleam of interest appeared in his red-rimmed eyes. “Questions concerning my nephew’s letter?”

  She nodded. “That and your offer.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware I had made an offer.”

  She realized she had twisted the fabric of her skirt into a knot, and smoothed it out. “You said I should speak with you if I decided to go west. I am considering such a move.”

  Surprise colored his features. “Don’t tell me you’ve been bitten by the gold lust.”

  “No, but it has occurred to me that there are many opportunities in the West besides the quest for gold. Your nephew’s venture, for instance.”

  He leaned back, eyes narrowed. “Has your fiancé a mind to try his hand at logging?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze to a point on the desktop in front of him. “We have…ended our agreement. If I decide to pursue a future in the West”—she met his eyes directly as she placed an emphasis on the word—“I will be alone.”

  A long silence followed, during which Evie forced herself not to shift in her seat. She had not actually told James of her decision yet. Nor had she informed him of her determination to end their engagement.

  Mr. Coffinger said, “I see. And tell me, exactly what do you intend to do when you get there?”

  That very question had occupied her thoughts throughout much of the early morning hours. Her initial assumption upon hearing Noah Hughes’s jesting request for “a wagonload of women” was that it had been a thinly veiled invitation for women of low reputation, which of course was out of the question for a Christian lady such as herself. But he wrote with such conviction of the bright future of the settlement he and the others were striving to establish. If so, there would be opportunities for upstanding women, especially if they were not afraid to work.

  She cleared her throat. “Every successful town needs commerce to thrive. Dry good stores, and clothiers, and blacksmiths…the list goes on.”

  Mr. Coffinger’s expression became thoughtful, and he nodded slowly.

  Evie took his silence for encouragement and straightened in the chair. “I’ve considered many opportunities—perhaps a restaurant?”

  Clearly, that had not been the answer he expected. His brow furrowed. “A restaurant?”

  Ignoring his lack of enthusiasm, she continued. “Just one possibility. The opportunity for business in a new settlement is practically unlimited, and I must consider my talents. I am a fair hand with meat and bread—and a needle, so a trade as a seamstress is a possibility. Surely men who work out of doors have mending needs and since there are very few women in the settlement, the demand for a full-time seamstress is undoubtedly limited.”

  He steepled his fingers in front of his mustache and dipped his head. “Go on.”

  Folding her hands in her lap to keep them still, she continued. “I’ve a good mind for finance, which would help in any number of ventures. Running a mercantile for instance.”

  “Certainly a necessity to a fledgling town,” he commented.

  Encouraged, she nodded. “There is a good deal of work involved in opening such a business. Suppliers must be secured, inventory purchased, trade routes established.” She spread her hands. “I have no contacts in the area, so forming these relationships would take time, and a great deal of money.”

  “Opening a restaurant would also require
suppliers and the purchase of inventory.”

  “Yes, but the initial expenses would not be as high. We would not need to purchase inventory to stock shelves, merely cooking equipment and a good supply of basic ingredients.” She reached into her apron pocket and drew out the list she’d made. “Tables and benches, but surely in an area rich with timber those would not be difficult to find.” She glanced down. “Oh, and table linens of course. We want to provide a homey atmosphere so the men will feel welcome and relaxed. Our restaurant would be a hospitable place, a respite from the demands of their labor.”

  As she spoke, Mr. Coffinger’s eyebrows edged upward toward his hairline. “Our restaurant?”

  Evie busied herself in folding her list. “That is the matter I hoped to discuss with you. Though I am able to run such a business competently, and am confident enough in my cooking ability to have no fear about my ability to attract a satisfactory clientele, there is an obstacle.” She slid the paper back into her apron and settled her hands once again in her lap. “I have no money to finance such a venture.”

  “None?”

  Her thoughts turned to the small sum secured in her hope chest at the boardinghouse, squirreled away from her meager wage as Mrs. Coffinger’s housemaid in anticipation of setting up a home as James’s wife. “Very little.” She cleared her throat. “I am aware that in the past you have occasionally invested in causes you deem worthwhile.” With that thought she fell silent, the unspoken question deafening in the silence that fell between them.

  His mustache twitched from side to side, and she fancied she could almost hear the faint tapping of his steepled fingers against one another. Then she realized the noise was the sound of her own pulse.

  Finally, he spoke. “I see merit in the venture.” Her chest inflated with a hopeful breath as he continued. “There is only one problem.”

  “And that is?”

  “In an unsettled territory the amount of money to finance a fledgling business is significant.” He splayed his hands. “In all conscience I cannot entrust such a large investment to someone I hardly know. Especially a woman.”

  Was he saying she was untrustworthy? Evie stiffened her spine but remained silent when he raised his finger.

  “The journey to Oregon Territory is arduous, and doubly so to a woman traveling alone. You must first arrive in California and book passage from there. If you travel overland, you risk starvation, thirst, and attack by savages. The journey by sea is hardly better, with the threat of cholera, malaria, and pirates in the waters to the south.”

  The breath deflated from her lungs through a suddenly constricted throat. It appeared that Mr. Coffinger had spent at least some time investigating the possible routes. How would she, who had never ventured beyond the borders of the Chattanooga valley, hope to undertake such a journey? She swallowed. “I assume there are wagon trains that one may join?”

  “A young woman alone, carrying a large enough sum of money to start a business?” A scowl scrunched his features. “In the past I’ve been known to hand over money for likely ventures only to have it disappear with the borrower. It is a foolish man indeed who repeats his past mistakes.”

  And a foolish woman who would ask him to.

  Her shoulders slumped. The idea had held such promise in the dark of night, without the light of logic to point out the shadows of uncertainty. But he was right. This was a fool’s errand. She rose to leave, an apology for wasting his time on her lips.

  “Wait.”

  She stopped in the act of standing.

  “On the other hand, I do not intend to repeat the same mistake.” The ends of his mustache rose with a smile. “This time I shall keep watch over my investment and oversee the spending personally.”

  For a moment his words made no sense. Then their meaning became clear. Hope flickered to life again. “Do you mean to accompany me?”

  His smile widened. “Of late I’ve had a desire—a deep longing to see the land my nephew describes in his letters. What better opportunity?”

  The memory of his wife’s disdain for Noah Hughes’s undertaking in Oregon Territory returned. Evie had a hard time imagining her standing idly by while her husband sank money in the venture. “Will Mrs. Coffinger agree?”

  “Leave Mrs. Coffinger in my hands.” He rose and crossed the room to open the library door, a clear gesture of dismissal. “But perhaps it would be best if you did not mention our plans until after I speak with my wife.”

  Releasing an audible sigh, Evie nodded. With Mrs. Coffinger’s disdainful sniffle and arrogant countenance in mind, that was a request she had no trouble granting.

  Three

  Chattanooga, Tennessee

  Evie folded the final skirt and laid it in the steamer trunk atop the rest of her belongings. It had hurt to sell the beautiful wooden chest that had once been her hope chest and replace it with this ugly trunk, but that had been the only logical step to take. The chest’s polished wood would no doubt have been scarred and scratched during the journey across the country and the sea voyage upon which she was about to embark. Besides, the chest had brought a higher price than she expected, and this trunk cost far less than she had planned for. She had been delighted to add the balance to her restaurant fund.

  She ran a hand across the fabric. The past two weeks had held far less pleasant tasks than selling her hope chest. Informing James of her decision to end their relationship was much harder than she expected. She closed her eyes against the image of his stunned expression.

  “But…but what of our plans?” he had stammered, looking as though he’d suffered a physical blow.

  “Your plans,” she’d corrected. “I had no say in them.”

  “We can discuss them. I am open to considering your opinions, Evie.”

  It was only in retrospect that she realized he had not offered to change his course of action, only consider her opinion. And that he had not once during the difficult conversation professed his love, or acted in the least hurt. Merely surprised, and perhaps even a bit angry at the disruption in his plans. At the time she’d steeled herself against an unexpected wave of guilt and repeated as gently as she could that she had changed her mind and would not marry him.

  She did not tell him of her plans, and had battled more guilt in the ensuing two weeks. In the back of her mind she’d feared James would decide to join her in her restaurant venture, something she most definitely did not want. Better to let him learn of her departure after she was gone.

  She closed the trunk lid, clicked the clasp into place, and then turned to survey the room that had been her home since she’d lost Grandfather’s house. The narrow bed looked stark without linens, the small night table bare after having been stripped of its adornments. Her dressing table and chest of drawers crowded this tiny space more than she’d realized. Those too had been sold, leaving the room empty and looking a bit forlorn.

  A rap at the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “The carriage has arrived.” Mrs. Browning’s whisper was barely audible from the hallway, in deference to the sleeping guests who did not wish to rise before the sun.

  Evie opened the door and watched as a burly man hefted her trunk onto his broad heavyset shoulders. She picked up her travel bag and followed him through the house and out into the predawn mist. While he secured the trunk on the back, Mr. Coffinger exited the enclosed carriage.

  “Good morning, my dear.” His voice boomed through air heavy with moisture.

  “Good morning, Mr. Coffinger.”

  “Since we are to be business partners, I think we can dispense with the formalities. You may call me Miles. And may I call you Evangeline?”

  His request pleased Evie. She had intended to have a discussion with him to clarify that their arrangement was to be a true partnership and she no longer wished to be thought of as his employee. It appeared there was no need. She inclined her head in agreement.

  “Have you had word from Mrs. Coffinger?” The one detail that left her feeling u
neasy was her departure from Mrs. Coffinger’s service. Miles had insisted that she not discuss their venture with his wife, and in fact not mention a word of her impending departure. Instead, he preferred to handle what was sure to be a volatile discussion himself. Last week Mrs. Coffinger had gone to Knoxville to visit her sister, presumably due to her extreme irritation with her husband’s decision to invest in Evie’s business venture. Evie would have preferred the opportunity to discuss her plans, or at least to say a proper goodbye.

  Miles grimaced, and then quickly replaced the expression with a smile. “Only the letter telling me she arrived safely and would return in two weeks’ time, after we are well on our way.” He patted her coat sleeve. “Not to worry. She will get over her prickliness. She always does.”

  He offered his arm, and Evie turned to wave goodbye to Mrs. Browning before allowing him to help her climb into the carriage.

  When she entered, she was surprised to see there were already three occupants inside. She slid into an empty place on the rear-facing bench beside two of them, and nodded a greeting as Miles entered and took the seat across from her. Apparently they were to share the carriage for at least part of the trip.

  Miles settled himself and then cast a smile around the inside of the carriage. “Allow me to conduct the introductions. Miss Evangeline Lawrence, may I present Miss Lucy Burrows, her sister, Miss Sarah Burrows, and Miss Ethel Strapp.”

  The sisters, who occupied the bench with Evie, shared several family traits including exceedingly high foreheads, equine-like noses, and hair the color of wet straw. They were very close in age, which Evie guessed to be around eighteen or nineteen. The third lady appeared to be several years older and far more sturdily built. Her strong features bordered on masculine, and though it was hard to see much beneath her travel cloak, her figure left a great deal to be desired.