The Runaway Bride. Noelle Marchand
a man’s frustrated voice bellowed, snapping Sean out of his thoughts as he passed the telegraph office that was next door to the railroad station.
Sean stopped to watch the rough-looking older man who stood outside the door. The telegrapher shrugged casually. “I mean what I said. The message was picked up, but no response was given. That’s all I know. Now, you can check again tomorrow if you like. Until then, I suggest you stop causing trouble and leave.”
The man muttered a few unholy words, kicked the dust and walked away. Sean watched him carefully, then went inside to speak to the telegrapher. “Hello, Peter. What can you tell me about that man?”
“He says his name is Alfred Calhoun. He’s been coming by every day for the last week. He sends telegraphs to a Frank Bentley down in Houston. They seem to be trying to coordinate a meeting of some kind. Near as I can tell, that Bentley fellow is coming here.”
“I don’t guess there’s anything wrong with that.”
“No. He’s an odd one, though. I don’t think he has a job. He seems to spend most of his time in the Red Canteen.”
Sean nodded thoughtfully. “If you find out anything that concerns you or if you want me to help you handle him, just let me know.”
“I will. I’ve been talking to Jeff about it and I’d planned to tell you when you got back in town. I’m glad you got to see the man in person.” Peter finally smiled. “You find that Wilkins girl all right?”
“Yes, she’s back with her family now.”
“Wish I’d been asked to rescue her.” Peter gave him a knowing smile.
“I wish you had been, too,” he said with a parting grin. Peter was still laughing when the door closed behind Sean. He let out a sigh. All right, so that wasn’t entirely the truth, but it was better to discourage any implication like that before it had a chance to take the form of a rumor. He only hoped that would be enough. The last thing he needed was for people to start asking questions. He planned to let this little episode in his life fade into the obscurity of nothing more than a faint memory. That was for the best. Wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
Lorelei pushed the long strips of bacon around her plate with a fork, then glanced up at her parents. Her father sat across from her, hidden behind a copy of the Austin newspaper he’d managed to snag on his last trip to the city. Occasionally, his hand would slip from behind it in search of food. Her mother sat to her right unconcernedly drinking her morning tea as she planned out the day on a piece of notebook paper.
The silence was broken by the crinkle of newspaper. Lorelei tensed as her father folded the paper and set it aside. She braced herself when his gaze met hers. His blue eyes soon dropped to his coffee cup, which he carefully blew on before taking a long drink. She felt her shoulders relax. She lifted the bacon to her lips but could not force herself to eat it. She glanced up once more, feeling tempted to glare at her parents.
It was horrible what they were doing. They hadn’t mentioned her running away once since she’d gotten home yesterday. At first, she’d assumed they merely wanted to give her time to rest after her journey. With breakfast nearly over and her father due at the bank in less than a half hour, there’d still been no mention of her actions. She knew that they were of such a magnitude that her parents couldn’t and wouldn’t leave the subject untouched. Why were they drawing it out? They must know the suspense was killing her.
“Lorelei,” her mother began.
Her head shot up, and she prepared herself for battle.
Caroline smiled. “Would you pass me the salt, please?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“You’re welcome,” Lorelei replied quietly.
Coffee cup drained, Richard stood. “Well, I suppose it’s time I get over to the bank.”
She watched dumbfounded as her father gathered his dishes and placed them in the sink before returning to the table to kiss her mother goodbye. “Have a wonderful day, you two.”
“Shall I send Lorelei with your lunch?”
“That would be nice, if you don’t mind, Lorelei,” her father said, then leaned across the table to kiss Lorelei on the forehead. His beard and mustache tickled her skin in a familiar sensation.
“I don’t mind.” Tears pricked her eyes as she watched him turn away and grab his hat. She blinked them away resolutely. He couldn’t leave without talking to her. Surely she deserved a lecture or something. She stood. “Papa, where are you going?”
He turned with a perplexed look on his face. “I’m going to the bank.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “I know that. What I mean is…well, I know you two want to talk to me. I’d rather you just say what you need to say now rather than drag it out by waiting until later.”
He seemed confused. “What is it you wanted to discuss, Lorelei?”
Her mouth fell opened then closed. “I ran away.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Isn’t that something you want to discuss?” she asked.
“Not particularly,” her father said.
Lorelei looked to her mother for help, but the woman lifted her delicate brows in confusion. “Well, what would you like us to say, dear?”
She sat down in disbelief. “This is ridiculous. Don’t you want to tell me how impractically and irresponsibly I behaved? How dangerous it was for me to travel alone as I did? How flighty it made me appear to everyone? How awful it was of me to leave you two wondering and worrying?”
Her mother took a sip of tea. “Is it necessary?”
She glanced to her husband who looked down at Lorelei thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. She seems to have learned her lesson.”
Lorelei looked from her mother to her father and back again. With a groan, she buried her face in her hands. “Did I just give myself a lecture?”
“I’m afraid so,” her father said with amusement in his voice.
She frowned at him. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
He smiled. “Goodbye, Lorelei.”
As the door closed behind him, her mother smiled. “Dear, we spared you the lecture because we know you. We know you’ve already recognized what you did was wrong because you’re here. You came back to us. Don’t think for a moment we weren’t worried or upset while you were gone, because we were both of those things and more.”
“I really am sorry.”
“We know that.” She reached over to place her hand over Lorelei’s. “Why did you leave? What happened that day?”
She sighed. “There I was in a beautiful white dress with one of the best men in the world standing beside me at the altar, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t—even after I spent all that time convincing myself that I could. I knew it wasn’t right.” She paused to take a deep breath. “It all was my fault because my whole life I was foolish enough to fancy myself in love with the one man who has never cared I existed.”
“Sean O’Brien,” her mother said softly.
Lorelei stared at her. “You knew. This whole time you knew?”
Her mother laughed. “Of course, I knew. You’re my daughter. How could I not know?”
She froze. “Does Papa know?”
At her mother’s nod, Lorelei groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Her mother pulled at her hands. “Come now, it isn’t that bad.”