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Seven days later
Barton stepped off the railcar steps, taking in the view from the depot platform. At first glance, Clear Creek, Kansas looked like a clean frontier town. The clear, bright sky helped set the scene too.
He moved aside waiting for the other five to descend the steps and join him. All wore new clothes, boots, and hats, well except Tobin, who still wore his army hat. Tobin said it made him look taller.
Each carried a carpet bag with their entire belongings, which wasn’t much because they’d lived in the army barracks for years.
“Not too big of a town by the way it looked as we pulled into the depot,” Tobin observed.
“How can you say that, when you aren’t tall enough to see over the windowsill, Toad?” Peter teased him.
“Cut that out! We’re supposed to use our given names now. Do I have to keep reminding you to call me Tobin, instead of Toad?”
“Sorry, Tobin,” Peter muttered.
Barton shook his head, wondering—again—if they were doing the right thing by showing up in Clear Creek unannounced.
“Let’s straighten our shoulders, put on our best behavior, and find Mrs. Reagan,” Barton said with determination. “Our destiny awaits.”
“I bet the depot agent unloading the baggage would know where the woman lives,” Gordon pointed to their left.
“Let’s ask and get this over with,” Barton said, as he took in another deep breath and walked over to the agent.
“Sir, we’re looking for a Mrs. Kaitlyn Reagan. Would you be so kind as to tell us where to find her?”
The man drew upright, looking Barton, then the others over, one at a time.
“Who’s asking?” the man asked with a hard stare.
“I’m Barton Miller, and these are my brothers, Gordon and Squires. With us are Peter Gehring, Tobin Billings, and Wesley Preston.”
The man faced them, widened his stance and folded his arms over his chest.
“Why are you in town?”
Barton looked at Gordon, wondering why the man was grilling him, but Gordon just shrugged his shoulders.
“We’re here to see Mrs. Reagan about the advertisement she placed in the Kansas City Star newspaper.”
“Huh? What did the ad say?”
Barton bit his lip wondering if he should say or wait to talk directly to Mrs. Reagan.
“She placed an advertisement saying she needed six young men who would each receive employment, housing, and a wife,” Wesley went ahead and announced to the man.
The agent wiped a hand down his face and muttered. “Oh, Deuteronomy! What is my mother and the Peashooter Society up to now?”
“Oh, excuse me? Did you say your mother?” Barton asked for confirmation.
“What’s the Peashooter Society?” Tobin asked.
“I’m Angus Reagan, her oldest son.” The man waved his finger in a circle as if he was trying to find the words to describe...the group.
“The older ladies in the church women’s club is a...affectionally called the Peashooter Society for their stunts.”
“Stunts?” Tobin asked since he was the curious one of their group.
“There...have been occasions where they’ve stopped...kidnappings and crime...with their pistols in their reticules.” Mr. Reagan’s face was turned red as he tried to explain the women’s group.
“Like pull out their guns and shoot people?” Tobin squawked.
“More like put their hand in the reticule and pull the trigger. My ma’s bag has several mended bullet holes in it,” Mr. Reagan said as he shook his head.
“We went to the expense of traveling here for the entertainment of a bunch of old ladies?” Wesley growled, starting to lose his patience.
“Oh, no. I’m sure they’ve cooked up a plan, but I bet the six women they want to marry off have no clue about this.”
“Do you think there are jobs and housing available then?” Barton quizzed the man.
“I know of two, no, three businesses in town that need someone to run them.”
“What are they?” Wesley asked with suspicion.
“The barber shop, blacksmith, and the livery. But apparently, my mother knows of three more jobs available than I do.”
“What about the wives she mentioned. Are they pretty?” Tobin asked eagerly.
Mr. Reagan’s stare made Tobin take a step back.
“I don’t know who the Peashooter Society is trying to marry off, but I can take a gander and say all are decent women. But I’ll make sure my mother and her cohorts check your references and background before they mention the candidates’ names to you.”
“We brought letters from references, from both our army chaplain and an officer from Fort Riley,” Barton assured Mr. Reagan.
“Good, because my pa is Pastor Patrick Reagan. You can bet he’ll check with his connections to be sure your letters aren’t forged.”
“We’d appreciate it if he could verify them, actually,” Barton said with relief. Maybe that would settle the matter without Mrs. Reagan waiting for more responses to her advertisement—which she wouldn’t get since the torn letter was in his carpet bag.
“Where can we find your mother then?”
“Walk west down the boardwalk. You’ll see the parsonage just past the school and church. But please don’t mention why you’re here to anyone else. The feathers are going to fly when the young women find out what the Peashooter Society has planned for them.”
“Would it be better if we get back on the train and leave then?” Peter asked because he voted against this idea to begin with.
“No, I’m sure it’s a legitimate offer. Clear Creek is a good town to live in, and if you’re decent men by your recommendations, you’re welcome. Just remember...those ladies’ peashooters are loaded...”
~*~*~*~
What happens next?
HERE ARE THE INDIVIDUAL stories in the Mismatched Mail-Order Brides Series.
Amelia changes her Fellow (Amelia and Barton)
Avalee exchanges her Fiancé (Avalee and Gordon)
Maggie shifts her Gent (Maggie and Peter)
Maisie swaps her Groom (Maisie and Squires)
Molly switches her Man (Molly and Tobin)
Nadine trades her Partner (Nadine and Wesley)
Here’s the start of
Amelia changes her Fellow
for you to enjoy!