Telegraph Bride: Sweet Historical Mail Order Brides of Lowell by MaryAnn Burnett Page A
Authors: MaryAnn Burnett
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“Well.” She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, “I thank you for the information. If you could just point me in the directions of the sheriff’s office…”
“It’s straight across the street but you’re not seriously going over there?” Holt’s face held a look of disbelief.
That made Elizabeth smile briefly. It surprised her how much she enjoyed putting that look on his face.
But, she needed to stay focused. “Mr. Nelson and I have a business arrangement. I need to know if he will be able to uphold his end of the bargain or not.” Picking her carpetbag up, she asked, “Would you be so kind as to have someone put my trunks inside the station while I attend to business?”
“Mrs. Stemple, you can’t go into the sheriff’s office.”
“I can assure you Mr. Holt that can’t is a word that is seldom in my vocabulary.”
She gave a bob of her head. “Good day to you, sir.” Picking up her skirts, she strode across the platform. She had a feeling that if she looked back, she would find the handsome Mr. Holt staring after her. Knowing he would see if she faltered, kept her at a steady pace as she cross the street.
After no more than a minute’s walk, she stopped in front of the small brick building. A wooden sign swung over the door and identified it as her destination. She stopped with her hand on the door and looked over her shoulder. Mr. Holt was leaning against the side of the train station watching her.
Elizabeth gave him a nod then turned around and opened the door.
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth's step faltered as the smell from inside the building hit her. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep out the stale waft of body odor and worse. She straightened her shoulders, held her carpet bag in front of her and walked the rest of the way into a building she’d never believed she'd need to visit.
Two men sat on a bench behind the bars to her left. One had long scraggly hair and an ill-kept beard. The other, more respectably dressed, leaned against the wall and dozed with his hat pulled down over his eyes. She heard wood scrape against stone and looked to her right to see the sheriff put down the sandwich he was eating and stand up.
"Ma'am?"
She'd come this far, she thought. "Sheriff, I was told one of your prisoners was a Mr. Nelson. I'd like to speak with him, if I may."
The sheriff stared at her for a moment or two in silence. Elizabeth thought of every little white lie she'd told during the war to keep trains moving with needed supplies to both the troops and those left at home. She felt like he was judging her for every last one of them.
She lifted her chin to stare back at him. She was proud of all she'd done to help the war effort and would do it again.
The man seemed to sense her resolve as he nodded. "This way, ma'am." He led her across the room to the cell. "Nelson, wake up. You've got a visitor."
Mr. Nelson, did not startle, he just pushed his hat back on his head and stood up like he'd been watching her the whole time.
"Sheriff, may I ask why Mr. Nelson is behind bars?"
The sheriff looked at the man walking up to the bars and laughed. "This time? Cheating at cards and running up way too many bills." The sheriff turned to her with concern in his eyes. "If you need me, ma'am, I'll be right over there by my desk."
Elizabeth stood a few feet from the bars. Mr. Nelson gave her a look up and down that made her feel as if he were imagining her naked. She held herself ramrod straight to stop the shiver she felt crawling up her spine. She refused to let him see he rattled her.
The cad leaned an elbow on the bars. “Mrs. Stemple, I assume.”
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Instead he looked like he was doing her a favor talking to her. His lips twisted into a smirk as he stared at her chest. There was no way she was going to tie herself to this womanizing cheat.
She should have listened to her friend, Lillian. But
“Well.” She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, “I thank you for the information. If you could just point me in the directions of the sheriff’s office…”
“It’s straight across the street but you’re not seriously going over there?” Holt’s face held a look of disbelief.
That made Elizabeth smile briefly. It surprised her how much she enjoyed putting that look on his face.
But, she needed to stay focused. “Mr. Nelson and I have a business arrangement. I need to know if he will be able to uphold his end of the bargain or not.” Picking her carpetbag up, she asked, “Would you be so kind as to have someone put my trunks inside the station while I attend to business?”
“Mrs. Stemple, you can’t go into the sheriff’s office.”
“I can assure you Mr. Holt that can’t is a word that is seldom in my vocabulary.”
She gave a bob of her head. “Good day to you, sir.” Picking up her skirts, she strode across the platform. She had a feeling that if she looked back, she would find the handsome Mr. Holt staring after her. Knowing he would see if she faltered, kept her at a steady pace as she cross the street.
After no more than a minute’s walk, she stopped in front of the small brick building. A wooden sign swung over the door and identified it as her destination. She stopped with her hand on the door and looked over her shoulder. Mr. Holt was leaning against the side of the train station watching her.
Elizabeth gave him a nod then turned around and opened the door.
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth's step faltered as the smell from inside the building hit her. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep out the stale waft of body odor and worse. She straightened her shoulders, held her carpet bag in front of her and walked the rest of the way into a building she’d never believed she'd need to visit.
Two men sat on a bench behind the bars to her left. One had long scraggly hair and an ill-kept beard. The other, more respectably dressed, leaned against the wall and dozed with his hat pulled down over his eyes. She heard wood scrape against stone and looked to her right to see the sheriff put down the sandwich he was eating and stand up.
"Ma'am?"
She'd come this far, she thought. "Sheriff, I was told one of your prisoners was a Mr. Nelson. I'd like to speak with him, if I may."
The sheriff stared at her for a moment or two in silence. Elizabeth thought of every little white lie she'd told during the war to keep trains moving with needed supplies to both the troops and those left at home. She felt like he was judging her for every last one of them.
She lifted her chin to stare back at him. She was proud of all she'd done to help the war effort and would do it again.
The man seemed to sense her resolve as he nodded. "This way, ma'am." He led her across the room to the cell. "Nelson, wake up. You've got a visitor."
Mr. Nelson, did not startle, he just pushed his hat back on his head and stood up like he'd been watching her the whole time.
"Sheriff, may I ask why Mr. Nelson is behind bars?"
The sheriff looked at the man walking up to the bars and laughed. "This time? Cheating at cards and running up way too many bills." The sheriff turned to her with concern in his eyes. "If you need me, ma'am, I'll be right over there by my desk."
Elizabeth stood a few feet from the bars. Mr. Nelson gave her a look up and down that made her feel as if he were imagining her naked. She held herself ramrod straight to stop the shiver she felt crawling up her spine. She refused to let him see he rattled her.
The cad leaned an elbow on the bars. “Mrs. Stemple, I assume.”
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Instead he looked like he was doing her a favor talking to her. His lips twisted into a smirk as he stared at her chest. There was no way she was going to tie herself to this womanizing cheat.
She should have listened to her friend, Lillian. But
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