The Bride Next Door. Winnie Griggs
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the locals held there—an activity she was unfortunately all too familiar with.
Other than that, things were quiet. Which was fine by her. Kip was the only company she needed tonight.
Daisy spared a quick glance at the adjoining building, which housed the newspaper office, and thought briefly about knocking on the door to see if she could borrow something to use as a pry bar. But she discarded the thought almost before it had fully formed. Not only was the hour late, but from what she recalled about the man who owned the place, he was an uppity gent with a highfalutin accent of some sort. His attitude reminded her too much of her grandmother. Not the sort who would take kindly to being roused from sleep. Or someone she’d want to owe any favors.
Turning back to the stubbornly closed door, she jutted her chin out and tilted her hat back. No warped slab of lumber was going to get the better of her, not when she was so close to her goal.
Using her foot to shove aside one of the rotten boards she’d pried from across the door frame, Daisy jiggled the key and turned the knob again. There was just enough light coming from the glow of the nearby streetlamp to confirm the door wasn’t locked. Which meant it was just stuck.
“If you think you can out-ornery me,” she muttered at the door as she rolled up her sleeves, “then you better think again.” With that, she took firmer hold of the knob, twisted it as far as it would go, and led with her shoulder as she rammed against the door. Kip stopped scratching and gave her a you-can-do-it bark.
The door held a moment longer, then scraped noisily open a few inches. Progress. But not enough. Kip might be able to squeeze through that opening, but not her.
Steeling herself, Daisy threw her shoulder into it one more time, grunting at the impact. With a last creak of protest, the door gave up its fight and opened wide enough to allow her to pass.
With a triumphant grin and a prickling of anticipation, Daisy retrieved her pack, tossed her bedroll up on her shoulder and met Kip’s curious glance. “This is it, boy. We’re home.”
With a deep breath, Daisy took her first step inside the building, Kip at her heels. The room was mostly cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by what light filtered in from the streetlamp, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust.
As she surveyed what little she could see of the room, her grin disappeared. “Jehoshaphat!” She’d spent the night in abandoned barns that were cleaner and neater than this place.
Striding farther into the room, Daisy muttered a few unladylike epithets under her breath as she batted at cobwebs and felt things crunch beneath her boots that she wasn’t ready to examine more closely.
She spied a lamp sitting on the counter and was relieved to find a bit of oil still in the base. It took several attempts, but she finally managed to get it lit and then took a closer look around.
She could hear Kip sniffling around, picking up goodness only knew what kind of scents. A couple of loud doggy sneezes confirmed that it was as dusty at his level as it was at hers.
She hadn’t expected a servant-scrubbed palace, but hang it all, she’d hoped to find something in a little better condition than this. No wonder the previous owner had been so quick to gamble it away.
She started to close the outer door, then changed her mind. It wouldn’t hurt to leave it open for a little while to help air out the place.
Daisy tromped across the room, ignoring the skittery scrambling sounds coming from just outside the circle of lamplight. Hopefully, whatever critters had taken up residence in here were on their way out. Still, she was glad for Kip’s company.
The back room wasn’t much better than the front. In the yellowish light of the lamp, she could see dust, debris and a smattering of rickety furniture scattered higgledy-piggledy across the space. Daisy kicked at an old sack lying in her path, then let out an explosive sneeze as a cloud of dust billowed up in her face.
Great! This was just pointy-fanged-rattlesnake perfect.
She fanned the air in front of her between sneezes. Why should the day end even a gnat-speck better than it had started?
Then she caught herself up short. Not that I’m complaining, mind You, Lord. I know You answered my prayers in a powerful way when You took Pa’s weakness for gambling and turned it to good by providing me with the deed to this building. And I truly am mighty grateful. Besides, I do know there’s nothing wrong with this place that a bit of honest sweat and elbow grease won’t fix up just fine and dandy. You’ve done Your part, and now I aim to do mine.
Daisy looked around again. Make that a lot of elbow grease.
But that didn’t scare her none. No, sir. The place was more than roomy enough for what she had in mind. She could already picture how it would look all cleaned up and put to rights. It would be so wonderful to have a place of her own, a place to set down roots and build a proper life. And to finally make some genuine friends of her very own.
And maybe, if she was very, very good, she could have a family of her very own one day, as well.
I know, Lord, baby steps. I asked for a family of my own, and instead, You gave me the seeds of one by providing a means for me to settle down in one place. I’m going to do my best to make myself an acceptable helpmeet in the eyes of some God-fearing man. I promise to look past appearance, manner and finances to see the heart of whoever You send my way.
Feeling focused and enthusiastic once more, Daisy went back to work. First order of business was to clear herself out a place to sleep. There was no way she could lie down in the midst of this gritty, grimy, cluttered mess, so if she was going to get a good night’s rest, she’d best start cleaning.
She tested the soundness of a crate near the doorway, then set the lamp and bedroll down. Plopping her hat and pack beside them, she rolled up her sleeves. No time like the present to get started.
* * *
Everett Fulton forced his heavy eyelids open, peering blearily around his darkened room. The faint memory of his dream lingered a moment—childhood images of his home in England. Already it was fading, leaving him to wonder if the muffled clatter that had awakened him had been real or only part of his dream.
A moment later, another series of thuds answered the question.
Jerked to full awareness, he tossed off the covers and swiveled so that his feet hit the floor.
It sounded as if someone was rummaging around downstairs. If the not-so-stealthy intruder did any harm to his printing press...
Swiftly crossing the room, Everett paused only long enough to pull on a pair of pants and retrieve the iron poker that rested against the cold fireplace.
Just because he didn’t own a gun didn’t mean he couldn’t defend himself.
Without bothering with a lamp, Everett stole down the stairs, carefully avoiding the fourth tread that had an annoying tendency to creak. His ears strained for some sign of just where his trespasser might be lurking.
He moved to the larger front room first, the room that housed his printing press and served as his office. A faint light filtered in from the large window that faced the street. His gaze went immediately to the bulky shadow that was his printing press. Most of the type was already laboriously set for this week’s paper. He would have no compunction whatsoever in trouncing anyone who dared tamper with his work.
Everett’s brow furrowed. All was quiet now, but he’d been certain the noise had come from down here. And everything seemed as he’d left it when he locked the doors and headed upstairs earlier.
Tightening his grip on the poker, he eased farther into the room. Taking a deep breath, he sprang around the corner of the press, his makeshift weapon raised. “Ha!”
But no thug crouched behind the machine’s shadowy bulk.
Feeling foolish, he lowered his arm. Had he misjudged the direction the disturbance had come from? Everett turned to his desk, a sour smile tugging at his lips.