Adele, p.2
Adele, page 2
“Why?” Mr. Alder leaned forward suspiciously. He knew that others looked down on him and his establishment in this town.
Adele leaned a hand on the table, bending her willowy frame to meet his eyes. “Because I don’t want my sisters sold off to the highest bidder, and this would benefit both of us.”
A smile flashed across the man’s face as he snapped the book closed. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because I give my word.” Adele’s ears pricked at the sound of her sister’s voices down the hall. “I want my sisters to have the time to decide for themselves what and who they want. If you give me that, I’ll work for you and make sure you make a profit.”
Mr. Alder handed her the book he had just closed and nodded. “Take this and get it in order. If you do that, we might just have a deal.”
Adele slipped the book into her oversized apron pocket with a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow at supper,” she said, turning and walking away. She could feel the curious gazes of the other men in the establishment on her back as she trudged to the kitchen with a sigh.
“Adele, who was that man?” Olga asked as Adele slipped into the kitchen. “What did he want?”
“Olga, you just mind your own business,” Adele snapped. “And remember what I told you.”
Olga dropped her gray-green gaze at her sister’s words. “I don’t know why you think you should marry before the rest of us,” she grumbled. “There are plenty of men to go around.”
Adele took her sister’s chin in her hand and glared at her. “You are not giving yourself to the first man who comes calling,” she whispered in a threatening hiss. “You trust me to see that things come out for the best.”
Olga nodded awkwardly, her face in her sister’s hard grasp. She knew Adele loved her and her siblings, but since coming to Needful, the once-friendly Adele had become almost surly.
“I’ll do what you say,” Olga finally spoke, extracting herself from her sister's hand. “You’ve never led us astray before.”
Adele felt her heart sag at her younger sister’s words, but it was too late. She had started something and would see it through. In life, some sacrifices had to be made for the ones you loved.
Chapter 2
Beauregard Alder walked down the street, his mind buzzing. It had been a bold move on Miss Fortuna’s part, but perhaps a mutual understanding would benefit both of them. He had heard chatter of the four women who had arrived in Needful a little more than a month ago but had given them little thought.
Perhaps having a wife might give new respectability in this two-bit town as well. Beau hadn’t thought much about his future when he’d left the rattle trap mining town where his mother had served whisky and stew so many years ago. It was a grubby life, and Beau had determined he would never go into the depths of the earth to make a living.
Selling liquor was a way to make money, as his mother had proven time and time again up until her death some ten years ago. When Beau had turned up in the burgeoning town that became Needful, Texas, it hadn’t been hard to start his own business with what he had saved.
Starting in a tent then progressing to a cabin, Beauregard Alder had finally had the coin to build a decent saloon with a few rooms to let on the top floor and a comfortable living area behind the bar.
He had considered writing back East to procure a few working women, so to speak, but his mother’s harsh words had drowned that idea out. The one thing she wouldn’t tolerate was doxies, anywhere near her place of business. It had been where the line was drawn, and even now, Beau couldn’t cross it.
Making his way to his saloon, Beau unlocked the doors, pushing them wide. Soon men from the mines or ranches would be filing in looking for a stiff drink and a chance to socialize with their friends over a game of cards. He only hoped that the woman he had handed his ledger to knew what she was doing.
Smoothing his dark hair over his balding spot, Beau considered the woman’s words. She had seemed serious if austere in her countenance, but perhaps at her age, she felt that life had passed her by.
Tying an apron around his waist, Beau began his daily routine of organizing, dusting, and polishing. He prided himself on his clean glasses and decent liquor.
The familiar routine of wiping out the serving ware, rubbing down the polished bar, and generally preparing for the busy hours ahead were a balm on his troubled mind. He knew he didn’t have the ability to manage his books, but was he willing to give up his freedom for a wife?
His hands stilled as he wiped out a shot glass with a clean rag. A wife. Surely, the more prudish types of the town would look at him more favorably if he had a wife. Beau’s mind drifted to the preacher, and he grinned. It would serve the man right to get such a shock.
Beau shook his head at the thought. No, the preacher, despite his high and mighty ideas, had been good for his business in a way, even if he seemed to sell more beer and sarsaparilla now. Tomorrow night was Saturday, and the scarecrow of a pastor would be in to tickle the ivories as he did each week. The arrangement had been mutually beneficial to Pastor Brandon. The preacher played the piano for Beau on Saturday night in exchange for having the contraption carried to the church each Sunday for services. Beau had been sure Pastor Tippert was bluffing when he first stepped through the doors of the saloon, but so far, Brandon had lived up to his side of the deal.
Beau sighed, thinking of the wasted hours each Sunday sitting on a pew while the preacher of Needful rattled on about God and salvation. The only salvation Beau needed was a hefty pocket full of gold.
At thirty-eight, he wasn’t getting any younger, though, and the more he thought about it, the more he considered the bargain with the woman from the Hampton House. They both had much to gain from the arrangement. If she could balance his books as well as the last lout who had left him hanging, he might just go through with the whole thing.
Beau had plenty to offer a wife, fine living quarters, a decent roof over her head, a bit of security for her family, as long as the amount wasn’t too much.
Beau smoothed the mustache over his lip and continued his work as his mind went over his earlier meeting with Miss Fortuna. She wasn’t much to look at, all hard angles and boney shoulders, but put her in a nice dress with fine things, and she would look. “Regal,” the word popped out of his mouth on a grin. Yes, the woman might be cold and austere, but she could exude the kind of haughty arrogance he would want in a wife.
Rubbing the bump on his nose, Beau pondered the arrangement further. It would also put that cowpuncher, Teddy Lewis, in his place. Yes, respectability, a cook, and a bookkeeper all rolled into one neat package would suit Beauregard Alder to the toes of his shiny black shoes.
He would meet Miss Fortuna tomorrow, check her work, perhaps sample her cooking, and then have a chat with the preacher.
A deep rumbling laugh rolled out of the saloon owner as his hazel eyes twinkled. Wouldn’t it just turn the town on its ear if he married the chit Sunday morning? The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. If the woman was impossible to live with, he could always move into one of the rooms upstairs. Rooms seldom used since the Hampton House moved into town.
“Beau!” A lanky cowhand in dusty boots stepped into the bar, tipping his hat back on his head. “How about a beer?”
“Depends,” Beau grinned. “You got the money?”
The cowpoke tossed a coin on the bar, and Beau reached for a glass. It was going to be an interesting week in Needful, Texas. That was for sure.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Fanny walked past the tiny desk in the room she shared with her sister. “What kind of book is that, and why are you writing in it?”
“I’m helping someone with their math,” Adele said, looking up to see her sister, who returned to sitting on the bed petting her mangy looking cat.
“Why are you doing that?” Fanny asked as the big cat purred. The beast was a terror to everyone but Fanny, and it only tolerated Adele because she studiously ignored it.
“I’m looking into a new line of work,” Adele hedged. “A mutual agreement between two business-minded souls, you might say.”
“Who?”
“Fanny, did anyone ever tell you that you are too curious for your own good?” Adele twisted in her seat to glare at her sister.
“Yes,” Fanny grinned, lifting one of the many books she had carried with her to the cowtown. “I have an inquisitive mind.”
“Then why don’t you put it to work finding a job that suits you?”
“A job?” Fanny blinked, dropping the book as her cat hissed. “I thought I was looking for a husband.”
“Is that what you want?” Adele didn’t look up from the ledger this time. “You want to be dependent on some cowpoke or farmer for the rest of your life? You want to grub in the mud trying to grow enough food for yourself and a passel of children you never planned on? When will you have time to read then?”
“I. Oh!” Fanny gaped as Adele’s words washed over here. “But Papa said we’re to marry.”
“And Papa is never wrong.” Acid dripped from Adele’s lips. They had left everything they had ever known behind them back in Minnesota to come to Texas. Granted, they hadn’t had much, but it had been home.
“What do you want me to do?” Fanny asked, flipping through the familiar pages.
“You’re clever,” Adele said, double-checking her work. “You figure it out.”
The sound of running feet downstairs told the girls that Chad Gaines must be in residence.
“That must be Daliah and her crew,” Fanny grinned. “Her son is precocious.”
Adele shivered. She had never been any good with children. “I guess Mr. Ben let the kids out of school.” She looked down at the watch, pinned to her dress, and sighed. Was it so late already?
“I’m going down to see them,” Fanny said. “Maybe Daliah will have some idea about a job I could do. I’m sick to death of washing dishes all day.”
Adele waved her sister away, receiving a snarl from the big yellow cat. “Don’t let that beast out. He’ll terrorize the whole town.”
Fanny stopped at the door, turning to nuzzle the cat. “Not my Midas. He’s a big sweetheart.”
Adele rolled her eyes as her sister slipped through the door. She might be willing to marry the saloon keeper just to get away from the cat hair on everything she owned. Looking at the numbers in the ledger, it would definitely be a trade up.
Already thirty, Adele had dissuaded herself of romantic notions long ago. She had become the one who picked up the slack around home as her mother had grown weaker over the long years and finally died almost two years earlier. Adele had quickly realized that few men would be drawn to her with her pinched features and practical mind. Adele Fortuna did not need love, affection, or romance. What she needed was to know that the chances never afforded to her would be given to her sisters: the opportunity to choose their lot in life and the direction of their hearts.
Mr. Alder seemed to be a practical businessman who might be willing to enter into a partnership where she would have enough to ensure her family’s well-being while giving her sisters time to determine what they wanted from life.
Behind her, Adele heard Midas making himself comfortable on her bed, and she sighed, looking up to see her reflection in the tiny mirror above the desk.
Tiny lines flecked the corner of her eyes, and her pale skin had barely a hint of color in it. Dark, serious eyes blinked back slowly as she tried to soften her slightly beaky nose by dropping her pointed chin.
No, Adele realized that any man who took her as his wife would do it through expediency rather than love. It was better if she took charge of the situation from the start allowing her to direct her course.
She finished her work with a tiny flourish, tucked the book in her apron pocket, and walked toward the door. She needed to keep an eye on her sisters to see that they didn’t do something silly, like marry a stranger with no prospects.
Turning to examine the tiny room, Adele wrinkled her nose, hissing at the big cat, who only blinked at her lazily from the comfort of her quilt. Today she had taken the first steps to managing her own destiny. She wouldn’t turn back if it met the needs she saw so clearly.
Walking down the stairs toward the dining room and the suppertime rush, Adele could hear Fanny chatting with the boy, Chad, as they discussed his lessons for the day.
“You should join us someday,” the boy said, looking up at Fanny as Adele stepped into the room. “Mr. Ben’s a good teacher, and he makes the lessons fun.”
“And what’s your favorite subject?” Fanny asked, tapping the boy on the nose.
“History,” Chad replied after a beat.
“I preferred English and reading,” Fanny said.
Adele smiled, turning toward the open door of the kitchen where Olga was already shuffling pans. It was only a matter of time before she secured her sisters’ futures. If only she could know that her arrangement would be accepted.
Tomorrow her whole world, everything she had ever known, could change.
Chapter 3
“You can’t be serious,” Brandon Tippert scowled at Mr. Alder. “You plan to get married?”
“That’s what I said.” The barkeeper crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his gold brocade vest, a smug grin on his face. “I’ll be discussing the deal, ah arrangements, with the lady today.”
“How? When?” Brandon shook his head, his mop of dark curls bouncing. “Not to put too much of a touch on it, but what woman in Needful is willing to marry the saloon owner?”
Beau felt his lips twitch into a smile. “One with more sense than prudishness. Despite your low opinion of me, I do run an honest business here. You can’t regulate away vice,” he added with a nod.
Brandon adjusts his stance at the bar, cocking one foot on the brass boot rail and leaning his elbows on the polished wood. “There is something you aren’t telling me,” he squinted, trying to get a glimpse into the older man’s mind.
“She’s a respectable woman who is willing to help with the business,” Beau said, pulling a cleaning rag from the band of his apron. “I think we’ll do well together.”
“You aren’t bringing a Madame to Needful, are you?” Brandon’s dark eyes flashed. “We draw a line there.”
“No,” Beau snapped. “I’m not in favor of that sort of vice. My mother taught me more respect than that.” He clamped his lips tight, realizing he had already said too much. Beauregard Alder had always kept himself apart from the town’s people. He provided a service just like any other business, and other than that, he needed no one.
“As long as everything is on the up and up, and this mystery woman agrees,” Brandon sipped his sarsaparilla, “I’ll perform the service after church tomorrow.”
Beau reached across the bar shaking the preacher’s hand. “I’ll see you there.”
Brandon walked to the piano and sat with a flourish. When he had first arrived in Needful as a young unwed parson, he had cringed at the out of tune player piano and had a revelation as he negotiated with Alder to come play each week.
Brandon was classically trained but had spent most of his time on a piano bench in bars rebelling against his upbringing. Now his heart belonged to the conductor of the universe, and he had a wonderful wife and a job that filled his heart with joy.
Beau grinned as the first notes of a song pounded out of the battered piano. He had a plan, and the people of Needful were going to stand up and take notice.
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!” Phineas ran a hand over his face. “No daughter of mine is marrying a saloon owner.”
“I’m afraid you have little to say about it,” Adele lifted her chin. “I’ve already agreed. Mr. Alder stopped by to discuss the arrangement over supper, and we have come to an understanding.”
“Adele,” her father’s dark eyes were worried. “What kind of life can a place like that offer? What if the man is a scoundrel?”
“Papa,” Adele laid a hand on his shoulder, she was nearly as tall as he was, and she boldly met his eyes. “I have talked to several people in town about Mr. Alder. Yes, he is a saloon owner, but he does not indulge in the other,” she hesitated, “aspects that many associate with that profession. He sells liquor to men who wish to imbibe. There are no laws against that.”
“But, a saloon.”
Adele stiffened her spine, lifting her pointed chin. “He has a good establishment and a steady income. That is far more than can be said of most of the men in this town. You brought us here to find husbands, and I have found one. If you disapprove, that is your right, but I will not be deterred.”
Phineas looked at his oldest daughter and saw that stubborn glint in her eyes. Adele was an intelligent woman. She had done more to hold the household together after his sweet wife’s passing than anyone. Her sharp, practical mind had kept them all in their home far longer than he had believed possible.
“You won’t change your mind?” He knew it was useless when Adele set her mind to something she would not be turned.
Phineas reached out, touching her face. She took after his family with sharp features and dark eyes. “I want you to be happy,” he said sadly.
“Happiness does not depend on where you are or who you are with,” Adele said. “It is determined by the good you can accomplish while you live.”
Phineas blinked, shocked at his daughter’s words. “But honey.”
“No, Papa, I have made up my mind. You will not hear me complain about my situation.” Kissing him gently on the cheek, she turned, striding away.
Adele felt the tears prick at her eyes. She didn’t want to disappoint her father or cause him to worry, but she had to make sure that her sisters had every chance to make their own choices. Her conversation with Mr. Alder that night had been acceptable. He was happy with her work on his ledger and assured her that he could provide for her. He had even offered rooms to her father and sister, but Adele did not want her sister’s subjected to the leers of drunken cowboys.
