Exerpt from LAUREN, Rescue Me (Mail-order Brides) Book 2

 

Excerpt from Lauren, Rescue Me (Mail-order Brides) Book 2 

 Starting with Chapter 3, when our heroine and hero meet:

July 7, 1878

Jeb motioned to the porter to follow him with the two-wheeled handcart holding his oversized trunk. He did not have a great deal of personal belongings, but he preferred to transport his own saddle, saddlebags, and tack rather than take his chances regarding what he might find in Wyoming Territory. His transit and compass were also carefully wrapped and packed away in the same trunk. Once he reached the baggage section, he tipped the handler and jerked his carpetbag from where it was piled on top of the trunk. “Thanks, Banjo. We’ll be seeing you around.”

            “Good trip to you, Mr. Carter. You get back this way again, you stop into the tavern some evening, listen to ol’ Banjo pic up a storm.”

            “Sure will.” Jeb waved a final farewell and turned his steps in the direction of the depot. His ticket was tucked safely in his inside coat pocket. Orson had been the one to provide it to him along with final instructions. However, out of habit, he checked the schedule himself and made sure the information he was told was right. It also would not hurt to find out if the train was on schedule, or if he was looking at a delay longer than the hour or more he had allowed for buying dinner.

            Jeb’s footsteps slowed as his gaze focused on a young woman dressed in a black mourning gown who stood on the platform next to the tracks of a train that had recently come from the East. Her fan was hanging from the wrist that clutched her carpetbag. On the ground several feet in front of her, a basket lay tipped on its side. With her head bowed and shoulders hunched, she held her free hand, which was fisted, over her lips. Her back was to him, and her dark, reddish-brown hair under a short-brimmed, black hat caught his eye. He slowed his footsteps and approached her from the side. “You look a bit lost, ma’am. Might I help direct you?”

            Her eyebrows raised and lips parted, the woman jerked her head to face him. She glanced to the side and back. “I don’t know.” Her voice raspy, she cleared her throat. Her eyelids rimmed with tears, she blinked.

            Upon gazing into her shining brown eyes ringed by dark lashes, Jeb’s breath caught. His heart began to beat faster, and his breathing rate increased. She is not the first pretty woman I’ve seen. Why am I having this reaction? He stepped forward and picked up the basket. “Where are you headed, ma’am?” He handed her the basket.

            “West. To Rawlins.” She heaved several deep breaths and biting her bottom lip, she accepted the basket.

            “You’re on the wrong platform for the westbound U.P. train. I’m familiar with this depot. If you’d like, I can show you where you will board. Or, if you prefer, I can find a depot employee to assist you.” Why is a young, attractive widow like her traveling alone?

            “Oh, I…um…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “My-my reticule was stolen. Some young man…more a boy, really…ran up next to me and grabbed it while he cut the strings with a knife.”

            “Did you see what direction he ran?” As he stepped closer, Jeb turned his gaze farther up the platform. He would have seen the miscreant if he ran the direction from which Jeb approached. Where are the railroad police when you need them?

            “No. I was so startled, I froze. By the time I thought to call for help, he disappeared between those two cars.” She pointed to where two passenger coaches were joined. “I’m not sure what I will do. I kept my tickets and most of my money in my reticule so it would be easily available. Now, it’s gone. I-I have a little money left in my carpetbag, but not enough to replace my ticket. I appreciate your offer, though.” She pressed her palm to her forehead. “I believe I should find the depot and stay there while I decide what to do.”

            “Ma’am, I don’t wish to appear forward, but... here…” Jeb reached for his inside pocket and pulled out a small leather portfolio. He opened it to reveal his metal Union Pacific Railroad shield. “I am attached to railroad security. My name is Special Agent Jeb Carter.” Jeb watched her eyes widen as she stared at his badge.

            The widow then jerked her gaze up to meet his. “I had no idea such a job existed.”

            “We try to stay as inconspicuous as possible, ma’am. However, I want to assure you, I am not approaching you with ill intentions.” Jeb pocketed his badge once more. “I’ve been working out of Omaha, but I will be traveling to a new assignment west of Cheyenne.” Jeb clamped his lips together and glanced around. Because of the covert nature of his assignment, he did not wish anyone to overhear him. I should have said nothing to her. “I suggest you allow me to escort you off this platform and to the depot.” He reached for the carpetbag with one hand and grasped it along with his. He offered his free elbow.

            “That is very thoughtful, Mr. Carter. I’m Mi…um, Mrs. Alice Bowers.” She placed her right hand in the crook of his elbow and used her left hand to brush aside a few stray hairs and the start of perspiration off her temple.

            “Mrs. Alice Bowers.” Jeb’s brow briefly wrinkled. Was she married such a short time that she did not get used to the idea of being a missus? He glanced at the hand where a wedding ring should be. Since she wore gloves—gray gloves, he noticed—the presence of a ring was not apparent.

            “Thank you, but I’m not truly in mourning.” Sucking in a breath and biting her bottom lip, the woman stiffened her body as she first glanced at her ringless hand and then at Jeb. She sighed with resignation. “It’s a ruse, I’m afraid. Since I must travel alone, a friend suggested it might be safer if I appeared to be a widow.”

            “I see. That is probably a wise decision.” Jeb felt like the sun came out from behind a cloud and its brightness filled him. She’s not recently widowed and still mourning a dead husband. She’s not even married.

            “I do ask you to continue to address me as a missus. I prefer anyone who might overhear not be aware I have never married.” Miss Bowers returned her gaze to Jeb’s. “Is it true what I’ve heard? It’s unsafe for a lone woman to travel by train to the West?”

            “Not much more than traveling to any other part of the country.” He offered her one of his lopsided smiles. “That is part of my job—keeping rail travel safe for passengers. So, yes, I will continue to refer to you as Mrs. Bowers.” He leaned toward her. Next, his breath caught as he studied her upturned face. The ghosts of freckles adorned her nose, but otherwise, except for a pink tint on her cheeks, her complexion was clear and pale. The flesh beneath her eyes bore gray shadows. He realized that was to be expected, if she had already endured a few days and nights of rail travel. Jeb had seen many beautiful women in his day, but there was something about her that drew him. “If you don’t mind my asking, since you don’t have money to buy another ticket, what options are you considering? Maybe I can provide some information.”

            Miss Bowers turned her face aside. “I don’t want to bother you with my personal problems, Mr. Carter.”

            “I apologize, Mrs. Bowers. I didn’t mean to pry.” Jeb pressed his lips together as he faced forward and walked several feet in silence. Actually, I did mean to pry. “I guess it is the detective in me coming out. I tend to ask questions.” I want to know all I can about you.

            “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Carter.” Miss Bowers offered a faint smile.

            As they approached the entrance to the depot, the pair began to encounter other travelers.

            Miss Bowers gazed around the inside of the building. “It’s not as big as Chicago.”

            “I’m sure it’s not.” She is from Chicago. “Still, it’s a fairly large depot. With this being the eastern terminal of the Union Pacific line, the roundhouse and tracks take up a lot of ground. Would you like me to show you to a bench?”

            The woman bit the side of her lip. “I think, before I do anything, I need to buy food and a newspaper. I don’t know what else to do other than seek work so I can save money toward another ticket.” She turned to face Jeb. “Do you know if there is a place close by where I can make those purchases?”

            “Yes, I do.”

            “If you’re willing to help with that, I would greatly appreciate it. My, it’s warm in here.” Flipping her fan open, she turned her gaze forward and waved the fan vigorously.

            Wishing he also owned a fan to beat back the heat, Jeb guided her to an open space on a bench between a pair of older women and a young couple with children. “Please sit here while I leave our carpetbags with my friend working the ticket counter.”

            “Oh, wait. I need something out of mine, first.” Miss Bowers stretched her hand toward her carpetbag.

            “Later is soon enough, Mrs. Bowers. I wish to invite you to join me for the noon meal. Since you know I understand your circumstances, I hope you will allow me to offer this small courtesy before I leave on my own journey.” Without waiting for her answer, Jeb turned and walked toward the ticket window. He stood in line while the man finished helping a passenger.

            The ticket agent grinned at Jeb. He stepped to the side and opened a door. “Good to see you, Mr. Carter. What can I do for you?”

            “May I leave some bags here while I eat dinner before I leave town, Freddie?”

            “Certainly. I’ll watch them for you.” Freddie leaned forward and twisted his body to look in the direction where Jeb left Miss Bowers sitting. “You plan to take that pretty widow with you?”

            Jeb grimaced and lowered his voice. “You know about my work, Freddie. There are certain things I don’t discuss.” Let him think it involves an investigation. I don’t need gossip.

            “Sure thing. Just wave when you’re ready, and I’ll let you back in.”

.

Chapter 4

 

His arms unencumbered, Jeb quickly walked to where he left Alice Bowers. He held out his hand and helped her stand. “I am taking you to my favorite restaurant for dinner, Mrs. Bowers. I was headed that direction when I came upon you. We have about an hour before I need to board my train.” After offering her his arm once more, he strode toward the exit opposite the main tracks.

            “I’m sorry, Mr. Carter. When I asked about a place to buy food, I wasn’t thinking about a restaurant meal. I hoped there was a small grocer or produce cart nearby.”

            Jeb craned his neck to look at her. “I believe you mentioned Chicago. Is that where you traveled from?”

            “Yes, but—”

            “Have you had any sit-down meals since you left Chicago? You know, the kind where you eat off of a plate while sitting at a table?” Jeb gave her a roguish grin, which he hoped would convince her he was teasing rather than being critical.

            “No. I thought to save money by bringing my own food.”

            “So all you’ve been eating is whatever you packed in your basket?”

            “It wasn’t that long of a trip, Mr. Carter.” Alice Bowers pursed her lips. “I plan to do the same if I continue west. Since I need to find a place to stay and, hopefully, a job, if I have some food that doesn’t require preparation, I’ll have one less thing to worry about for a day or two.”

            “I also plan to take food to eat along the way. However, I intend to have a good meal before I board the train. I suspect, at this point, you could also use a decent dinner. Please indulge me, Mrs. Bowers. I expect nothing in return except pleasant company.”

            “I-I…that is highly irregular, Mr. Carter.”

            “Irregular, perhaps, Mrs. Bowers, but, since you are a widow, not improper.” Knowing he took advantage of her ruse of being a widow, he offered his lopsided grin. “If you must blame my actions on anything, it is the investigator in me. You have been forced into an uncomfortable situation. Before I leave Omaha, I want to feel assured that I leave you in the best circumstances possible as you make your choices. Besides, I’d prefer not to eat alone.” Jeb held open the door to a restaurant and motioned for Miss Bowers to enter.

            A waiter wearing a wide grin approached. “Good afternoon, Mr. Carter. I have your usual table ready.” His face transitioned into a mildly pleasant smile as he turned and studied the woman by Jeb’s side. “Do you wish me to bring a beverage for you and your guest?”

            “Bring us both coffee, please, Sam.” Jeb turned to Alice Bowers. “Or do you prefer tea?”

            “Tea, please, and perhaps a glass of water.”

            “A tea for the lady, Sam. And water.” Jeb guided Miss Bowers to his favorite table—a small one barely big enough for two chairs—near the back corner of the room next to the door leading into the kitchen. He helped to seat his guest. No sooner did he spread his napkin across his lap than Sam returned with the two cups of hot beverages and two glasses of water. “Sam, do you have my travel food ready to go?”

            “Yes, sir. As soon as you’re ready for it, I’ll bring it out. This is the wrong time of year for apples, but I did have fresh plums, which should travel well. I also added some dried fruit.”

            “Sounds good. Do you have enough to duplicate that order for Mrs. Bowers? She planned to buy provisions that will keep well. I’m sure she’ll be pleased with what you pack for travelers.” Jeb turned to his guest. “Do you like hard-boiled eggs? I usually have Sam send about a half dozen with me.”

            “Yes, but that won’t be necessary. I plan to have a soft-boiled egg for my meal.”

            Jeb shook his head. “Please, Mrs. Bowers. The meal is my treat. Eat something more substantial and take some hard-boiled eggs with you.” He turned to the waiter. “What are you serving today?”

            “We are offering beef stew, our perennial favorite. With the heat being what it is, we also offer a cold plate with cubed ham, cubed white meat chicken, and two kinds of cheeses over salad greens surrounded by other vegetables. It’s topped with oil and vinegar dressing. Rolls are served with the meal.”

            “That cold dish does sound good. I would like that, please.” As she smiled, Alice Bowers’s face turned pink.

            Good. She is willing to eat a decent dinner. Jeb turned to Sam. “I’ll have the stew. If you have smoked ham, cube it and add it to our to-go orders.”

            “Certainly. I’ll be back shortly with your meals.”

            Sam had no sooner taken a few steps in the direction of the kitchen than Jeb placed his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, what takes you to Rawlins? Do you have family there, or is someone expecting you?”

            “Yes, I do.” Tipping her head, Alice Bowers brought her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know what he will think about what happened.”

            He? Jeb forced his face to remain expressionless. “Is it someone whom you need to notify?”

            “I must see to that, too. I don’t dare spend my remaining funds on a telegram, so I’ll have to write a letter.” Pressing her lips together tightly, she straightened and met Jeb’s gaze. “I know not everyone agrees with the practice, Mr. Carter, but I am going to Rawlins to marry a man I met through a newspaper advertisement.”

            Again, Jeb felt heaviness weigh down his insides. Another man has already claimed her. He listened as she explained her job in a boardinghouse, her difficulty with the owner’s son, and her correspondence with a sheep rancher. He could tell she left out a lot of details. The more he listened, the more her plan struck him as having a shaky foundation. She confessed that he sent tickets and travel money, but she dared not send a telegram while still in Chicago. She planned to send one from Omaha.

            “What if he won’t wait? I’ve heard some men will write to more than one woman at a time.” A part of Jeb hoped the man would not wait but would choose another. The more sane part remembered he was in no position to pursue a romantic interest—especially now he was going undercover for an investigation that could keep him tied up for months.

            “If that happens, I don’t know what I will do.” Miss Bowers flipped open her fan and waved it before her face. “I have heard that, the farther west one goes, there are more men than women. Perhaps, if it does not work out between us, I can find a job in Rawlins. I might meet someone else suitable who shows an interest in courting me.”

            Jeb canted his head. She has no idea how uncivilized some areas in the West can be. “I hope everything will work out the way you want.”

            “I’m not sure we can always have what we want.” As she looked off to the side, Miss Bowers sighed. “I only know I could not stay where I was.”

            “Then, at least, try to make sure you will be in a good situation before you continue your travel.” Jeb leaned back as he considered. “The one problem I foresee with Omaha is this is a fairly good-sized city. It’s not as big as Chicago, but large enough that some sections are filled with rough characters. I’ll give you the name and direction for my former landlady. I would take you there, myself, but I must board my train shortly. I don’t know if you’re able to afford the rent for one of her rooms, but perhaps she can give you some guidance.”

            “I appreciate that. I’ll also see what I can find in the newspaper advertisements.” Miss Bowers swallowed. “One thing I do have is a letter of recommendation from…from a lifelong friend. She handed to me as I left for the train station. At least, it was not stolen along with my reticule.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded letter. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a letter from my former employer. Due to the circumstances under which I left, it was impossible. But, surely, this should count for something.” She raised the letter several inches.

            “May I?” Jeb did not wait for permission before he snatched the paper. Ignoring the tightening of her eyes and the flush that rose on her face, he opened the letter. Although he moved his gaze from the top of the page to the bottom as if reading its contents, in actuality, he looked for key bits of information, which he memorized. The letter was for Lauren Brower, not Alice Bowers. Did not her close friend know her first name and how to spell her last name? Or, was Alice Bowers hiding something? Based on her story, she was running from the difficult son of her former employer. Was she running from something else?

            “Your meals, Mr. Carter.” Sam appeared next to the table. He set the salad before Miss Bowers and the stew before Jeb. He removed the breadbasket from the forearm where he had it balanced and placed it in the center. “Is there anything else?”

            “I’ll let you know, Sam. Thank you.” As Sam walked away, Jeb returned his attention to the letter. Something about the situation struck Jeb as being off. “Very nice recommendation. It should convince any perspective employer of your character.” He refolded the letter and returned it.

            “Thank you.” Miss Bowers’s tone held a sharp edge. She accepted the return of her letter and, her gaze lowered, stuffed it inside her pocket once more.

            “If I may be so bold, I am curious about a few things.” Jeb watched the woman as she stiffened her spine.

            “Yes?” She raised her chin and met Jeb’s gaze.

            “First, Lauren is a very pretty name. I can’t say I’ve heard of many women named that.”

            Again, Lauren’s face turned pink. Her shoulders relaxed as her lips turned up with a smile that reached her eyes. “My late father’s name is Lawrence. He wanted a boy. Since I disappointed him in that respect, he named me the diminutive of Lawrence.”

            “Ah. I can see why a father might name a beloved daughter that.” After offering a smile he hoped she interpreted as reassuring, Jeb wrinkled his forehead as he studied her face. “I noticed your friend, who signed the letter as Ophelia Bowers, spelled your surname Brower. Yet you introduced yourself as Alice Bowers. Was there a reason for that?”

            Lauren looked away and sighed. “Perhaps it was silly. Because I was fearful of traveling by myself, I changed my name to something more common and less memorable.” Lauren Brower studied Jeb’s face a few seconds before swallowing. “Actually, I wrote to Mr. Walker using the name Alice Bowers. We used Effie’s…um, Ophelia Bowers’s address. She told her landlady the letters were for her cousin. I didn’t dare use my own name or address because…well, in case Arnold, the son I told you about, found one and read it. I feared how he might react.” She clamped her lips together and turned her head aside.

            As Jeb watched Lauren, he realized two things. First, she was not comfortable lying. Second, he understood the nature of the danger she faced from her employer’s son. “I see. My suggestion is, if, in the future, you must use a pseudonym, choose a common name dissimilar to your own.”

            “Oh.” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I guess I’m not very talented at this sort of thing.”

            “Hopefully, you will seldom find yourself in a position where you need to be good at being inconspicuous.” Jeb lifted his gaze only to realize that Orson stood inside the door and stared at him. Jeb returned his gaze to Lauren and smiled. “If you’d be willing to indulge me, Mrs. Bowers, I see a coworker across the room with whom I need to speak. I’ll leave you to finish your salad and return shortly.”

            Lauren blinked and then nodded. “Of course, Mr. Carter.”

            Craning his neck, Jeb searched the room until his gaze connected with the waiter’s. He motioned Sam over.

            His hands clasped in front of him, Sam approached and slightly bowed. “Is everything all right, Mr. Carter?”

            “Delicious as always, Sam. I need to speak with Mr. Delahey for a few minutes. Please see that Mrs. Bowers is not disturbed. When I return, I’ll be ready for our food to go and to settle my bill.”

            “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.”

            “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just across the room.” Jeb nodded to Lauren as he stood.

  

Chapter 5

 

As Mr. Carter left the table, Lauren forced a smile and held her head erect. She desperately wished to turn in her chair and see the other man. However, she felt doing so would be rude. His dealings with others are none of my business. Instead, she again picked up her fork and took another bite of salad. The cold meat and cheese cubes, along with the dressing and salad greens, tasted quite refreshing. Then again, he did not hesitate to pry into my business.

            Lauren closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. How foolish to reveal so much about myself. First, after getting a glimpse of his badge, she accepted his claim of being a railroad detective. She voluntarily admitted she was not truly a widow but still a single woman. Next, she allowed him to carry her carpetbag—a gentlemanly offer—but he turned around and handed it over to a ticket agent, a man he knew but she did not. It holds my remaining cash. What if it is stolen? He offered to buy her dinner, asking for nothing in return but good company. Grateful for the meal, she shared her story. She did not regret telling him about Effie’s letter of recommendation. What she now realized was a stupid decision was to show him the letter. How was she to know he would grab it and read it? Now he knew she lied, not only about her marital status, but about her name. What he might think of her, she dared not speculate. 

            Although, so far, Mr. Carter gave no indication he desired anything inappropriate from her in exchange for the courtesies he extended, she realized men often expected something in return. She felt uncomfortable about the extra food to go he ordered without asking her permission first. She now felt beholden. Regardless of the cost, she must be prepared to pay for the food he arranged for her. How could she do that if she was unable to retrieve her carpetbag?

            As much as Lauren felt bursts of annoyance when Mr. Carter made decisions for her, she did acknowledge his actions relieved much of the anxiety she experienced after having her reticule stolen. Just being guided to a restaurant where she could eat in peace and be treated with respect meant a great deal. The matter she preferred not to examine too closely was her impression of Special Agent Carter. She felt a sense of guilt. She intended to marry Herbert Walker, yet felt terribly attracted to this man who walked up to her and temporarily took her under his wing.

            Lauren knew things often were not always as they seemed. Why did he show so much interest in her? What does he expect in return for being helpful? She wondered if she dared trust him. He will board the train soon and be gone.

            Comforted by the thought Jeb Carter’s presence was temporary, Lauren ate another bite of salad. Her gaze fell upon the roll perched on the edge of her plate. She realized she would be better off saving it for later that afternoon or evening. The thought occurred that the act of wrapping it in her handkerchief presented an opportunity to get a glimpse of the person meeting with her dining companion. Even though it was none of her business, sometimes, seeing a person’s associates could reveal a great deal about that individual. Because she felt so attracted to Jeb Carter, she strongly desired to know as much about him as possible. Just because he is a handsome man, I cannot afford to act foolishly—more so than I already have.

            Lauren tugged her handkerchief from her left sleeve and picked up her roll. While pulling the corners of the cloth open, she made a quarter-turn in her chair. As she leaned down to pick up the basket, she glanced behind her.

            With his back toward her, Mr. Carter now stood by a coat tree several feet from the restaurant entrance.

            Behind him, she could make out the form of a rotund, older man. The unknown man, wearing a serious expression, tipped his head to one side as he turned his gaze away from Mr. Carter. It connected with Lauren’s.

            Mortified she had been caught observing the pair, Lauren quickly jerked her focus to the roll in her hand. After she wrapped it and placed it inside the basket, she nonchalantly returned the basket to the floor. She turned to again face her plate. She scooted her chair closer to the table. Willing her hand to remain steady, she sipped her tea before she picked up her fork and resumed eating. She hoped the heat in her face and neck to dissipate before Mr. Carter returned to the table.

 

Lauren is scheduled for release on January 9, 2023. To find the book description and purchase options, please CLICK HERE.