Someone who might be worried about you. Bethany shook her head. No, there's no one. My parents died last year influenza. I was teaching at a girl's school in Boston, but she trailed off again.
But, Yates prompted gently. She seemed to debate with herself before continuing. James, my fiance, he's a businessman in San Francisco. We've been corresponding for nearly a year. He sent money for my passage west for our wedding.
A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud. Traveling across the country to marry a man I've never met in person. It's not uncommon, Yates assured her, though he found himself unreasonably irritated with this unknown James, who had allowed his bride to be to make such a dangerous journey alone. Perhaps not.
But now I have no money, no belongings, and no way to contact him. She looked down at her hands. I don't even have a photograph anymore. Everything was in my trunk. We can send a telegram from town when you're stronger, Yates suggested.
Let him know what happened. Yes, I suppose we should, she agreed, though without enthusiasm. Mr. King Cade, I want you to know I intend to repay your kindness. I'm not without skills I can teach, so keep accounts. Once I'm recovered, I'll find a way to work off my debt to you."
Her determination touched him. "There's no debt," Miss Rose, but we can discuss all that when you're fully recovered. "For now, you should rest." She looked as if she wanted to argue, but fatigue was already evident in the droop of her shoulders. Thank you again for the clothes," she said.
"It will be good to have something of my own again. You're welcome. I'll leave you to rest now." As he closed the door behind him, Yates found himself thinking about Bethy's situation. A woman alone in the Western Territories had few options, especially one with no money and no connections.
If her fiance didn't come through, what would become of her? The thought troubled him more than it should have. Over the next few days, Bethy's strength gradually returned. By the fourth day, she was able to leave her room and join Yates and Martha for meals in the dining room, dressed in one of the simple calico dresses he had purchased for her. "It feels wonderful to be up and about," she confessed as Martha served a hearty lunch of beef stew and freshly baked bread.
I've never been one for idleness. You needed the rest, Martha insisted. Still do, if you ask me. You're still too pale. I feel much better, truly.
Well, enough to be useful. She glanced at Yates. I noticed your bookshelf is quite disorganized. Perhaps I could help sort it while I'm recuperating. Yates smiled at her eagerness.
If it would make you happy, though, I have to warn you, many of those books haven't been touched in years. All the more reason to give them some attention, she replied with unexpected enthusiasm. Books are like friends. They shouldn't be neglected. Martha exchanged an amused glance with Yates.