A Bride For Bode (The Proxy Brides Book 21) Read online

  “Now, Bingham, you don’t have the right so leave this girl alone. Gracious man, she must be thirty years younger than you!” The elder’s reprimand as well as Gladys’s shocked gasp stopped Cyrus. He pulled at the sleeves of his coat to set them aright and sniffed with indignation.

  “Let’s sign the papers, Judge Morgan. I have another appointment yet tonight.” Cyrus clearly wanted to appear businesslike so the judge would forget his lapse.

  Violet let out her breath in relief that the man had ceased pursuing her and said a prayer that Bode Palmer Parker would be nothing like Cyrus Bingham. That quick prayer brought to mind a thought that started a rock growing in her stomach. She wouldn’t have the right to avoid Bode Parker’s touch.

  Chapter 2

  Nebraska City, Nebraska

  October, 1871

  “Bode Parker, you’d be a fool to let this slip by you! I’ve told you my surname means ‘victorious’ and I won’t fail this time either.” Rex Kearney could sell fish to a fisherman, but Bode knew the man was right. Rex was ten years older than him and already owned successful businesses like this café where they now sat. With this new venture, his friend had offered him a chance at his own success.

  Running a hand through his sable hair, Bode shook his head before realizing that his friend thought he’d disagreed with him. “Now that the building of the Burlington and Missouri Railroad is almost done, things should start hopping in Nebraska City. You’re correct about it being the right time to build the bar we’ve always talked about. That’s not the problem.”

  Rex leaned across the café table and met his friend’s eyes. “Well, why aren’t we breaking ground right now and starting the building then?”

  “It’s the same reason that I gave you last night when we talked. Someone else controls my money. I have to beg funds from that lawyer for one more year. Then I can do what I want. If only they waited one more year to build the railroad…” His voice trailed off as Bode realized he sounded like a whining child instead of a man who made his own fate.

  “I know I’ve told you about the reason I came west.” Rex nodded. Bode waited but his friend didn’t say anything. “Well, my father came from England and created a successful business. After my parents died, I needed a change and I wanted the same challenge. This is exactly the opportunity I’ve been seeking.” He ended with a sigh. How long would his friend wait before he asked someone else to replace Bode as his partner in the venture?

  The other man leaned forward with his elbows on the table. Cupping his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he stared thoughtfully at the younger man he’d met only two months ago. “Time to strike is now before lots of taverns are built in the area. We buy it up and serve lots of thirsty visitors.”

  Bode let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s all well and good if you have money. How do I strike, as you say, with empty pockets?”

  “You already said it. Beg money from the lawyer. It’s your money and you should be able to use it.” At the older man’s convincing tone, Bode imagined the words he would write in a letter to Cyrus Bingham. Rex was right, blast it! It was his money and this was his opportunity for success.

  He smiled at his friend and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. Since you have the gift of talking the fur off a fox, how about helping me to write the attorney a letter?”

  Later that afternoon, Bode stopped at the post office, near the mercantile before going to work. His letter had been written, outlining the proposed opportunity and the request for funds. He’d worried that phrases in the letter made him sound desperate, but Rex encouraged him to keep the wording. “Convincing, Bode Boy, not desperate,” he’d assured his friend.

  In the post office, he kissed the letter before handing it over the counter to the postmaster. The man read the address on the letter and gave him a dubious expression. “Thought this was a love letter the way you took on there, kissing it.”

  Bode grinned with embarrassment. “Sorry, Mr. Halloway. Stupid, but I was kissing it for luck since it is part of a business venture.”

  The man shook his head at his silliness. “You need a girl, Mr. Parker. You definitely need a sweetheart.”

  Thanking the man who still shook his head at Bode, he left and headed toward the river. The Missouri River flowed very near to Nebraska City. It was one reason that he and Rex expected commerce to take off in town. The railroad would ship goods, true. But items could also go by river to areas that the railroad didn’t reach. The steamboats already moved along it, confirming that.

  At the river, he opened the door of the shack where he served drinks. Arnold’s Place smelled even worse than it looked. Rex was right. This bar would be no competition for the one they would build.

  Two weeks passed before he heard from Cyrus Bingham. He regretted needing to have any contact with the man. Having met him once, soon after the man became a partner with the attorney his father trusted, Bode hadn’t been impressed by the man.

  At their meeting three years prior, Bingham had patronized him, treating him like a child. At the time he’d imagined that the man might want to pat his new client on the head as if he were a young boy. Bingham had even referred to him as a “young sprout”.

  He’d had lunch with Rex that day. They’d joked about what to name their new place. His friend had joked about calling it Rex’s Abode so that both of their names were in the title. At least Bode hoped it had been a joke since the name was terrible. After deciding against King Bode or The Gathering Place, they’d chosen to call it The Ferryman in honor of the ferry that docked very near the site of the future building.

  After lunch, he’d picked up a letter from the post office. Mr. Halloway stared oddly at him as he handed over the letter. “Well, are you gonna smell it for perfume?” Even though he didn’t think the man’s joke had been funny, Bode laughed before wishing him a good day.

  In the fading light of the late fall afternoon, he sat on a bench outside Arnold’s Place to open the letter from Cyrus. What he read caused his hand to fist and wad the paper into a ball. Then he smoothed the letter against his thigh and lifted it to read once again. He couldn’t possibly have understood it right the first time.

  The lawyer began by addressing him as Bode rather than Mr. Parker. It infuriated him that the man took advantage of the power he held over Bode by presuming on a relationship they couldn’t even term an acquaintance. This was the most innocuous part of the letter. He would release all of the funds as long as his client agreed to marry a girl of Bingham’s choosing. The marriage, the lawyer wrote, would have a steadying effect on Bode and ensure that he wisely used his funds.

  The man had even enclosed a proxy agreement. From this, he realized that he wouldn’t even be given the luxury of meeting the woman before he married her. Still, he supposed they could annul the marriage if they decided that they didn’t suit.

  “Allo, Monsieur Bode. What eez the frown for?” Fifi tapped his cheek with the fan that always hung from her wrist. Bode knew the woman wasn’t really French. He felt sure everyone who met her could tell that. He never hinted that he knew or even tried to speak to her in French, a language he’d been taught in school.

  Wanting to wave the woman and her obnoxious fan away from him, he smiled instead. “Hello to you too, Miss Fifi. A business matter has me a bit concerned. Nothing that I’d want to bother you with.” Hoping the woman would leave him alone, he was disappointed when she moved so that her scantily clad breasts were at his eye level.

  Scooting down the length of the bench, he managed to move away from the woman and then rose. “Excuse me. I have something I need to take care of before work.” Catching her annoyed expression, he tipped his hat and hurried away.

  Working at a bar allowed him to see his share of men who spent all of their money on liquor and women. Being around the situation helped him realize that the advice his mother had given him was undoubtedly true. “You won’t regret waiting on intimacy until you’re with the girl you’ll one day marry. I can’t promi
se you that same lack of regret if you have relations outside of marriage.” As he recalled her words, he somehow felt the touch of her hand on his face. If he remembered right, he’d been almost thirteen and had thought he was in trouble after being caught kissing Susan Ellis behind the church building. Rather than discipline him, his parents had spoken openly and warmly with him about the physical connection between a husband and wife.

  Would he have the wonderful connection his parents had described with a proxy bride? His parents had been sure their marriage only worked because of a shared faith in Christ. Bode didn’t mind religion, but he didn’t believe the same way his parents had. Marriage wasn’t something connected with God. Again, the possibility of a future annulment assured him that it would be okay to go ahead with Bingham’s proposal.

  He had enough time before work to write back to Bingham. He’d have Mr. Halloway witness the proxy agreement and then send it back. That should give the man even more reason to believe Bode was crazy, and he laughed in anticipation of the man’s expression.

  In the post office, Halloway took off his cap and wiped his brow. Then he shook his head for the hundredth time and asked Bode if he was “doggone sure of what he was a doin’.” When the younger man emphatically assured him that this would be a good thing, the postal agent agreed to act as his witness. Bode signed the proxy contract with a flourish of the pen and the other man also quickly wrote his name in the spot provided.

  Having already purchased an envelope in the mercantile, Bode put the two pieces of paper inside. After addressing it, he handed it across the counter. Just as the older man reached for it, he pulled it away. “Just for luck Mr. Halloway.” Then, laughing, he kissed it before laying it down on the counter.

  “Strange young man! Still, I do wish you luck.” He shook his head.

  Bode grinned broadly in response. He would have his saloon built before he knew it! All he needed to do now was wait for a name and then have a proxy wedding. Maybe Fifi would like to be his pretend bride.

  Chapter 3

  The steady movement of the train as it crossed Iowa’s flat land should have lulled Violet to sleep. After all, she’d been traveling for days and felt exhausted. The plush red seat was comfortable and there was enough room to stretch out her legs.

  She should have been able to close her eyes and rest. Sleep refused to settle on her. Instead, when she closed her eyes she could see the home that had been her haven for so long. At times, visions of Aunt Tessie’s collapse also haunted her.

  Her aunt had always been so healthy. The doctor had been mystified by her death and suggested poison. Gladys dismissed his concerns as ridiculous and refused an autopsy, saying her stepmother’s religion would not allow such a thing.

  The two of them faithfully had attended the South Pittsburgh Baptist Church. That was true. Violet had searched her memory for any mention of autopsies in a sermon or even the gruesome topic of mutilating a corpse. She couldn’t remember one thing that would support Gladys’ objection and tried to voice that. The doctor and Gladys both spoke over her and pointedly ignored anything she might say, firmly putting her in her place as simply the charity case Aunt Tessie had kindly housed.

  Being a charity case, Violet had to leave behind the many mementos of her life with the substitute mother. She would love to have brought the parlor clock and the candlesticks that sat ready for use on the mantle. Her cousin, however, stood guard as Violet packed to be sure that Violet took only items in her bedroom.

  As she had moved around the room, Violet’s hand had accidentally moved toward the lamp on the bedside. Gladys waved a finger in her direction and said, “No-no. Only little things that fit your carpet bag.” All of her clothes had gone into the bag along with her brush and mirror. Weighting the items down with her bottles of rose cream, she pushed in the box containing her own mother’s few items of jewelry.

  Seeing her put the box into her bag, Gladys objected. “Did you steal that from Tessie’s room? I’m sure I saw a box just like it in there once upon a time.”

  Remembering the scene now as she stared out the window of the train, Violet felt her back stiffen in the same way as it had when her cousin had accused her that day. The words she’d calmly stated in response belied the indignation she’d been experiencing. “I may have lived on Aunt Tessie’s charity, but I would never steal. This contains my mother’s cameo and pearls. They go with me wherever I am headed.”

  Sniffing with irritation, the older woman said nothing. Rather than respond, she crossed thick arms over her ample bosom and glared. Violet had turned away and reached for the last thing that had to go with her.

  For her birthday the previous month, Tessie had gifted her with a square needlepoint. The subject, a lone lighthouse, saddened Violet each time she glanced at it now. She felt like that solitary fixture on the rocky shore. Alone with waves crashing around her.

  Whether she enjoyed the picture or not, she had promised Tessie to keep it with her always. The woman’s words came back clearly to Violet now as she traveled to her uncertain future.

  “Look to the lighthouse should anything happen to me. It’s the way for your future and has the will for you.”

  The will for me to do what though?

  When she’d asked her aunt that, the woman assured her that it had the will to guarantee her future. So Violet viewed the picture done in greys and dark blues as a sort of good luck charm from a woman she’d loved dearly. While Gladys scornfully commented on the ugliness of the needlepoint, Violet had stuffed it into her bag, rearranging items to make it fit.

  The conductor’s call that they’d reached the Missouri River brought her out of her musing. She had stared sightlessly out the window but now took in the scene before her. The wide river gleamed in the autumn sun. Already passenger cars were being ferried across the river, two at a time.

  As she watched her car being loaded for ferrying across the river, she gasped as it rose slightly into the air. The conductor assured her, “No need to worry miss since more than one hundred cars are ferried across this river each day. They’re just putting the screw jacks into place so the car won’t roll.”

  She nodded and forced a smile on her face in response to the reassuring man. He had been so kind to her during this trip, letting her know the best depots for her to buy food or stretch her legs. Now, she shook as she allowed him to help her aboard the ferry, the Lizzie Campbell.

  Violet hated water. Ever since the flash flood had claimed the lives of her parents as well as her older brother and younger sister, she’d cringed whenever it so much as sprinkled outside. Crossing water now terrified her, but she refused to give in to an old fear when she intended to start a new life as soon as she made it to the other side of the Missouri River.

  Keeping her eyes on the conductor rather than looking outside, Violet managed to tamp down her fear. The helpful employee laughed with a passenger and appeared to have no worries about the crossing. She focused on that as the ferry moved away from the bank into the water. It would not do to disembark from the ferry an emotional wreck since she expected to meet her husband at the ferry landing.

  God willing, he would be there holding a sign with her name on it. She muttered aloud, “I wonder if it will read Violet Barrigar or Violet Parker?”

  At her muttering, the man standing next to her cast her a quizzical glance. When she stayed silent, he looked away again, much to Violet’s relief. She’d never been good at meeting people or making conversation with strangers. For so many years, she’d only gone to school and church. Tessie didn’t care for social events so Violet stayed home with her rather than going to the dances, which were frowned on by their church anyhow.

  How she would have loved to attend though. Once a young man from her high school invited her to go with him. Aunt Tessie refused to allow her to, however, and he never asked Violet again.

  Passengers around her were descending from the ferry and she joined the queue. With her carpetbag in her right hand, she caref
ully held her skirt up just a bit as she walked down the plank. At the bottom, she looked through the sea of people for a young man holding a sign with her name. It had been the wrong place to stop as a passenger behind her rudely pushed forward. With no free hands to grab onto the end of the loading plank, she hurled toward the ground.

  As her face rushed down to the boards under her feet, two hands gripped her arms.

  She would arrive that day. Bingham’s telegram, reaching him five days prior, wasn’t unexpected. It was just unwelcome.

  No not unwelcome. He needed the money and this meant that Bingham would now release it to him. And thank goodness. With the business just getting off the ground, Bode had no money to pay the bank later this month when the next loan payment was due.

  To be a part of the venture, he’d borrowed against his inheritance. After he’d shown the banker Cyrus Bingham’s letter that promised a release of the funds, the man had lent him the amount he needed to match Rex’s investment in the Ferryman.

  The brick building was completed and they’d opened the week before. Each evening since had seen a good profit for them. Bar patrons flocked in for drinks as well as to hear the singer and the pianist they’d hired, a husband and wife duo named Jack and Jennie Lou Atkins. Both added a touch of class to the saloon that Arnold’s Place lacked.

  After being opened two days, Fifi had approached Rex about a job. According to Rex, she mentioned that Arnold was fuming about the drop in his business. Later, when she saw Bode, she warned him that Arnold had muttered darkly to her about the disloyal bartender who needed to watch his back.

  None of that worried Bode nearly as much as the arrival of the stranger who legally was his wife. He wondered what had forced her to marry a stranger and how that motivation might affect his own life.