“Yes, at Fort Slocum hospital in New York.” She told him a bit about volunteering there, treating the soldiers, and how in the days and weeks after Gettysburg, there seemed to be no end to the wounded being shipped in from the battlefield hospitals.
“My wife would’ve liked you, and she would’ve thanked you for taking care of our son. After Gettysburg, there was no word of him, not for years, and we all thought he was dead. My wife died thinking Bowie was gone. I like to think that when she got to heaven, God let her know he was all right.”
“I’m sure she’s at peace about that.” Elise couldn’t help leaning forward to touch his gnarled hand. He turned his palm to clasp her fingers and gave her a wink.
“First his nurse and now his wife.” He released her hand. “I’m glad he has someone to share his life with the way I did with my Victoria. Bowie needs someone to look after him and show him some tenderness, even if he doesn’t think he does. Victoria understood him better than I do, I’ll admit, but I have an inkling that you understand him pretty well yourself. I could tell he cares a great deal about you, the way he kept watching you, kept checking to see that we didn’t overwhelm you completely. And the two of you having a nice long lie-in this morning went a fair ways toward proving to me that you’re the right woman for Bowie. I can’t remember the last time he wasn’t up before the rooster.”
Elise blushed, and he laughed. If GW only knew that Bowie watched her so carefully to make sure she didn’t slip up and let on that theirs was anything other than a love match.
“My son has a great deal of love to give, but he keeps it to himself mostly, though he’s the first one his brothers go to when they need someone strong to stand with them in trouble. But he rarely asks for help himself, so I’m glad he has you now.” He smoothed his mustache. “I won’t keep you, since I know you’ve got a lot of shopping to do. By the way, don’t buy any silver for the table. I’d like that to be my wedding gift to you.” He let his chair come to rest on the porch and levered himself up.
Elise rose as well, and she couldn’t help but smile when he placed a whiskery kiss against her cheek. “You’re a good girl, Elise Hart.”
She thought about his kind words all the way into town. He was glad Bowie had someone to share his life with. But did Bowie, really?
At the time he had proposed, she had been grateful, thinking half a loaf was better than none. But now, now that she’d seen his happily married brothers and the way Bowie protected her and saw to her every need, now that she’d seen how much he had to give, she wanted more.
She wanted a real marriage, with loving and sharing and caring.
Hartville had gone by in a blur the previous day on the stage, but now that she stood on the main street, she had time to study it. Gage had parked the wagon in front of H & C Hardware.
“This is Houston’s place. You can get paint here and wallpaper and such. And either of the mercantiles can order furniture and rugs and lamps and things. I’ll be by to load up your purchases later. I’m headed to the blacksmith’s, the livery, and the saddle shop for the boss. You can have tea or coffee at the restaurant in the Hartville Hotel up yonder, and I’ll meet you there. That all right with you?” He seemed eager to be about his business, and Elise nodded, letting him go, trying not to feel set adrift in an unfamiliar sea.
Houston and Coralee couldn’t have been nicer, and Coralee had fine taste, helping with paint and paper choices, as well as household items like pails and pitchers and washbasins. Both Houston and Coralee expressed their happiness for her and Bowie.
Elise couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy as she watched them together. Coralee had a pretty laugh and made Houston smile, and he was always touching her, his hand on her shoulder, brushing one of her ringlets off her cheek.
The Yost Mercantile at the end of the street was enormous, a warehouse of a place stuffed from baseboards to rafters with everything from aprons to zinc paste. Disorganization reigned, and Elise’s heart sank as she stepped inside. How was she going to find anything in this wilderness of inventory?
“Yeah?” A man sitting on a stool behind the counter didn’t so much as glance at her, speaking around a nasty cigar stub jammed into the corner of his mouth and reading a newspaper.
“Do you have a catalog?” Elise bit her lip and twisted her fingers at her waist.
“Sure. Got a great big one. But if you need something, I prolly got it on hand.” Sighing as if he was annoyed to be interrupted, he laid down his paper and finally looked up. “You new in town?” Sliding off the stool, he leaned on his palms on the counter.
“Yes, I’m Elise Hart.”
He yanked the cigar from his mouth and threw it behind the counter, offering her an ingratiating smile. “Hart did you say?”