The Matchmaker of Fairfield: (Clean Historical Western Romance) Page 2

  The girl’s face flushed once more and she turned towards the kitchen.

  “Oh, that’s only Rosie,” she said.

  “Rosie?”

  “She’s a little collie pup who’s made a sort of home at the back of the tavern. One of our patron’s brought her to me and I’ve...been feeding her and looking after her ever since.”

  “Oh,” Bridget said. She could not help but strain her neck towards the outer kitchen, hoping against hope to get a glimpse of this little dog.

  “Did you have a question, miss?” Ivy asked, calling her attention back.

  “Yes,” Bridget said with a slight jump. “I...I only wondered...is it just you waiting on patrons in the tavern?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Ivy said. “Me, Mr. Bracken and Mr. Crawl. The old cook.”

  “I see,” Bridget said. “I wondered if you might need some extra help here.”

  “Help?” Ivy asked, looking confused.

  “Yes,” Bridget answered. “I’ve come to town in search of a job. Seeing as there is only one server here, I thought one might be available.”

  “I don’t know about that, Ma’am,” Ivy said. “I would have to ask Mr. Bracken.”

  “If you could speak to him, I would appreciate it,” Bridget said. “I’m afraid my situation is fairly urgent.”

  “You...you would like me to ask him...now?” Ivy asked her eyes widening once again as though Bridget had asked her to enter a cave containing some flesh eating monster.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Bridget said. “If he is busy at the moment, I can wait. I’ve nowhere else to be.”

  Ivy looked nervously at Bridget, then to the back door, behind which Mr. Bracken and Mr. Carson had been speaking (or rather screaming). Taking a deep breath, Ivy stood up straight and seemed to be summoning all the courage she possessed before turning back to Bridget.

  “I’ll fetch him for you, Ma’am,” she said. “It shouldn’t be but a moment.”

  “Thank you,” Bridget said with a friendly smile towards Ivy. Once again, Ivy did not reciprocate the gesture. Instead, she turned her eyes down and hurried, as quickly as she could into the back room.

  The voices, though still clearly audible seemed to have lowered now. They stopped completely when Ivy entered the room.

  As Ivy promised, not a moment after it had closed, the door to the back kitchen swung open and two men strode out.

  The man in the lead was tall and fairly young, if Bridget had to guess an age, she would imagine him to be no older than twenty-three or twenty-four.

  He was dressed in a smart gray suit, complete with gold chain and a top hat which he clutched at his side. His otherwise pleasant face had gone red and blotchy with anger.

  The man who followed after him was only slightly older than the first. He was shorter with reddish hair, spectacles, and a nicely trimmed goatee. His plain clothes were nowhere near as fancy or elegant as the first man’s. And his face was not quite as red. All the same, it was beset by a worried and careworn frown.

  “I plan to return next week, Mr. Bracken,” the first man said moving from behind the bar towards the front door. “By then, I hope you will have reconsidered my offer.”

  “You may return next week, Mr. Carson,” the man behind him, Mr. Bracken, answered with an air of forced calm. “But, my position will not have changed.”

  “You can’t hold onto this place forever, you know,” the man called Carson said. “Now that the Railroad is here, more taverns, diners, even restaurants will open in Fairfield. That’s business you can’t compete with.”

  “None the less,” Mr. Bracken said. “I plan to hold on as long as I can.”

  Though the worry lines remained on Bracken’s face, he stared straight into Carson’s eyes, straightened up and ushered the taller man towards the Tavern’s front door.

  “Good day Mr. Carson,” Bracken said.

  Mr. Carson did not respond, he simply placed his tall top hat on his head and gave a clipped, irritated nod before marching out the door.

  Mr. Bracken stood at the door and watched Carson stomp down the street for a moment before turning to Bridget

  “I am sorry, miss,” he said. “Ivy tells me you wanted a word with me.”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “I’m looking for a job. Only temporary until I can get on my feet. Then, I am planning on heading South to San Francisco.”

  He moved towards her, a hesitant expression on his face.

  “As you can see miss…”

  “Riley,” I answer. “Bridget Riley.”

  “Miss Riley,” he said, quickly. “There’s little need for help here. The Tavern, is, unfortunately, rarely full.”

  “I understand that sir,” she said. “But, I’m sure I can find some way to be useful here.”

  Mr. Bracken let out an irritated sounding sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

  “The truth is, Miss Riley,” he said. “At the moment, I do not have the funds to employ any more workers. I am barely making ends meet as it is.”

  “Perhaps a trial period, then,” Bridget said. “I would be willing to work a week as long as room and board are provided. I would not need any other compensation. If the situation proves undesirable for either of us, you can dismiss me.”

  Bracken looked at her and opened his mouth as though desperate to make some argument against her suggestion. Apparently, he found none and closed it again. Though, his dark eyes remained narrowed as they surveyed her, almost as though she were an untrustworthy intruder.

  “Have you had serving experience?” He asked.

  “Not formally,” she said. She saw him give another irritated look and open his mouth the speak again.

  “But,” she cut in quickly, “I have looked after my four little brothers and three little sisters for the past seven years. Believe me, after seeing to their demands, the most difficult of customers will not phase me.”

  His lips pursed and he looked Bridget up and down as though trying to find some flaw; some other objection he could make.

  “Where do you hail from?” He asked.

  “Boston,” Bridget answered.

  “And how did you come to be alone in Washington Territory?” He asked.

  Bridget knew that this question was more than fair. It was highly unusual to meet a young, unmarried woman traveling alone. Any who did was bound to have a unique story. She realized, with a sigh of her own that she just might be forced to tell hers.

  “I was brought here under false pretenses,” she said. She could have refused to tell the whole truth. She could have simply said that it was a long story and she would rather not bore him with the details. But, she knew he was likely to uncover the truth sooner or later. Best to come out with it at the beginning.

  “I was meant to meet a young man in Seattle who had proposed marriage through letter,” Bridget told him. “When I arrived...the man was far from what he had made himself out to be.”

  “So, you left?” Mr. Bracken asked. She recognized a softer tone to his voice now and he moved towards her slightly. Bridget could not help but take this as a good sign.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  Mr. Bracken eyed her carefully, as the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipated.

  “I’m afraid that’s a much too common story around here,” he said. “Ivy, the girl you met as you came in, was in a similar situation when she came to me several months ago.”

  Unsure what to say to this, Bridget simply nodded feeling her heart constrict in her chest. She hoped this slightly softened demeanor meant that she would be given a chance to work. She stared at Asa Bracken, eyes narrowed, willing this to be the case.

  “I don’t have room in the tavern for you to stay,” he said. Bridget, feeling her heart sink, opened her mouth to put in another plea. “I can, however, pay for a room for you at the boarding house across the street. At least until you earn enough here to pay for it yourself.”

  Bridget immediately let out a breath
she had not been aware that she was holding in.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bracken,” she said. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

  Mr. Bracken did not answer. Instead, he looked her over once more, unsmiling before moving to the back door, opening it and calling for Ivy.

  “Yes, sir,” Ivy said in a breathless voice as she rushed out at Mr. Bracken’s command.

  “Ivy, this young lady is Bridget Riley,” he said. “She’ll be working with you here and staying at Mrs. Paulson’s boarding house with you as well. I’d like you to take her across the street if you would so that she can get settled in.”

  It was impossible to tell exactly how Ivy felt about this new situation. She pursed her lips and looked quickly between Bridget and Mr. Bracken before giving a submissive nod and beckoning Bridget to follow her out the back door.

  Bridget, grabbing the satchel by her side, followed Ivy out.

  Ivy did not speak as she led Bridget towards a house across the street standing inconspicuously between a general store and a milliner’s shop. Bridget realized that, if she wanted to know more about her workmate, she would have to begin the conversation.

  “Mr. Bracken tells me we share a similar situation,” Bridget said by way of introduction. “I take it you were brought out west under false pretenses as well.”

  Ivy nodded but did not seem able to say more as they entered the house. Once inside, they were greeted by a larger than average woman with a rosy face that belied her stern expression.

  “And what’s brought you back so soon, Ivy?” The woman asked. Her voice was much deeper than Ivy’s indeed, it seemed deeper than most women Bridget knew.

  “Mr. Bracken’s hired a new girl to help at the tavern,” Ivy answered quietly. “She’s meant to board here as well.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Paulson said moving towards Bridget, looking her and down as though trying to decide whether or not she would be a suitable border.

  “My name is Bridget Riley,” she said.

  “I take it you come from back east?” Mrs. Paulson said by way of answer.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Bridget said. “Boston.”

  She looked again at Bridget’s dress and satchel as though trying to find some flaw in them. Finally, she nodded as though satisfied.

  “You’ll be rooming with Ivy,” she said. “There’s one other girl boarding, Annabeth. She’s taken a secretarial job at the mill. But, she’s not often in much. Ivy and I will take you upstairs to your room.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Bridget said. With a nod, Mrs. Paulson led the way up a dark staircase as the girls followed behind.

  When Mrs. Paulson opened the door to a room on the upstairs landing, Bridget found herself looking at, perhaps, the largest bedroom she had yet seen. Larger certainly than the one she’d shared with her brothers and sisters back in Boston.

  “Now, I realize the rooms are rather small,” Mrs. Paulson said. “But you should be comfortable enough. You’ll be sharing with Ivy. I hope that’s acceptable.”

  “It is,” Bridget said. “That is if Ivy doesn’t object.”

  Bridget turned to Ivy whose face colored at being addressed. She shook her head “no”. Just as she did, a raucous-sounding laugh issued from the street below.

  To Bridget’s surprise, it was Ivy who reacted first, sprinting towards the room’s large window. When Bridget followed, she was surprised to see a small smile light Ivy’s face, the first she had seen from the girl, when she looked down to the street.

  When Bridget followed Ivy’s gaze, she saw a group of young men, lead by the boy with the loud laugh, entering the tavern.

  “I should get back to work,” Ivy said suddenly. “The tavern is usually a bit busier at lunch time.”

  And, without another word, Ivy rushed out of the room, down the stairs and out of sight.

  “I...I hope I didn’t say anything to offend-”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Mrs. Paulson said dismissively. “It wasn’t you that sent her off. It was Elijah Bellows.”

  “Who?” Bridget asked.

  “Surely you’ve heard of the Bellows,” Mrs. Paulson said, looking at her with surprise. “They own the logging mill. Their family employs half the town. Young Elijah comes to the Tavern for lunch with his brother once a week or so. He also comes nearly every day for a drink on his own. If you ask me, our Ivy is more than half in love with the young man. Poor thing.”

  “Why should that be such a disaster?” Bridget asked. Mrs. Paulson again looked to Bridget as though questioning her sanity.

  “The Bellows are wealthy,” Mrs. Paulson said. “And Ivy is a poor orphan with no relations to speak of. It’ll be a wonder if she finds a suitable husband at all.”

  Bridget wanted to tell Mrs. Paulson just how very old fashioned that way of thinking was. Nowadays, more and more poor young women were able to make decent matches. Besides, from all she could tell, the men out west could not be so particular.

  But, she remained silent. And instead, focused her eyes on the tavern where Ivy had just disappeared through the front door, a strangely bright smile still lining her face.

  Perhaps there was hope for Ivy to be united with the husband of her dreams. Perhaps all either of them needed was a little nudge…

  Chapter Two - Ivy

  They were at it again. Ivy couldn’t help but wince as she made her way into the backroom to hear Asa and Bridget arguing, hardly for the first time about what Bridget’s role should be in the tavern.

  “Things have run much more smoothly since I’ve taken on most of the serving,” Bridget said to Mr. Bracken as Ivy moved into the kitchen to deposit several dirty glasses into the large sink.

  She glanced back at the office space where the raised voices were coming from before grasping a plate of leftover chicken from the oven. RoseAnne, Ivy’s collie, always got the chicken scraps at lunch time.

  “It’s not a question of things running smoothly,” Mr. Bracken said. Ivy felt her stomach tighten as she sensed her name was about to come up in the argument again.

  “Ivy’s been here longer than you. And I don’t like seeing her pushed out of her duties.”

  Ivy winced fully as her prediction came true. Being a part of any conflict always made her feel tense and anxious. And, this one between Mr. Bracken and Bridget had been going on for the past three weeks.

  As she looked up from the plate of scraps in hand, Mr. Crawl, the slender, wizened old cook, gave her a sympathetic smirk. She tried to return the gesture but was not sure that she’d managed it.

  She pushed her way out the door of the kitchen and into the space in front of Mr. Bracken’s office where he and Bridget were, currently, facing off. Ivy hoped to pass by them undetected. She could already see Rosie the little border collie who lived at the back of the tavern poking her nose through the door and sniffing the air in anticipation. She didn’t want to keep the poor pup waiting for long.

  She made her way carrying a small plate of leftover chicken behind Mr. Bracken. Unfortunately, Bridget caught her eye.

  “Ivy,” Bridget called to her. “Do you have a minute to discuss something with Mr. Bracken?”

  “It’s almost lunch time,” Ivy said timidly, praying that she would not have to take part in the debate. “I should go-”

  “It’ll only take a moment,” Bridget said giving her a significant look which told Ivy that the other girl knew what she was trying to do. And, what’s more, Bridget was not going to let her get away with it.

  Since Bridget had moved into Mrs. Paulson’s boarding house, she and Ivy had had countless discussions about the need for Ivy to speak up for herself.

  “If you don’t tell people what you really want,” Bridget said. “You’ll never get it.”

  Ivy always promised to try and be stronger about expressing her feelings. But the promises always ended up being hollow. She couldn’t seem to help it. Every time she tried to tell someone, anyone how she felt, her stomach would seize up and she would inevitably get tongue
tied.

  Bridget said she just needed practice. Which was why Bridget had been trying to force Ivy into these types of confrontations with Mr. Bracken for the past week.

  Now, as Ivy looked between Bridget and Asa, she felt as though she should, at the very least try to explain what she wanted.

  “All right then,” Ivy said. “If it’s only a minute.”

  “Ivy, Mr. Bracken and I were having another discussion about serving food at the tables,” Bridget began. “I told him that you and I decided together that it was best if I take over table serving while you stayed behind the bar.”

  “Is that true, Ivy?” Mr. Bracken asked. While he looked at Ivy, she noticed his eyes continually glanced back towards Bridget. As though he was certain the older girl would try to put words in Ivy’s mouth. Bridget, however, stayed silent and put her hands behind her back. Her eyes widened as she looked to Ivy as though silently willing Ivy to speak for herself.

  “I...it is, sir,” Ivy answered finally, her heart pounding in her chest. “We decided it was best that Bridget waited on the tables while I tended bar. The bar is our busiest station and I prefer mixing drinks to bringing food.”

  Asa continued to look at her skeptically. She tried to keep her eyes on his as Bridget had taught her to do. It was surprisingly difficult not to drop her gaze to her feet.

  After what felt like a long moment, Mr. Bracken stepped back.

  “All right then,” he said. “As long as it’s your decision, Ivy, I suppose things can stay as they are. For now.”

  The last for now was directed at Bridget rather than Ivy. The glare Asa was giving the older girl would have made Ivy shrink away and want to disappear into the floor. She was impressed when Bridget stood straight and rigid before giving him a bright smile.

  “Well, now that that’s settled,” she said. “I believe Ivy and I should begin setting up for the lunch service.”

  Ivy barely had time to look back at Mr. Bracken before Bridget had taken her by the shoulder and proceeded to lead her back out into the tavern.

  As Ivy felt Bridget’s gentle but very firm grip as they moved through the back door into the tavern’s main room, she could see why Mr. Bracken would worry that Ivy was being taken advantage of.