“Ohhhh,” Margaret echoed.
Braxton frowned. “Those are the same numbers you just read.”
“Yes,” Phoebe said slowly. “They are.”
“So, somebody,” he said, looking at the sisters. “Wrote the same numbers down twice for two different towns.”
Margaret winced. “In our defense, the ink was smudged.”
Josie pressed her hands over her mouth. “We’ve created a traveling circus of brides.”
George put his paws over his nose as if he agreed.
Phoebe scanned the list again, brow furrowing. “If Miss Greeley went to St. Louis, then the bride actually meant for St. Louis…”
“…went to Silver Falls,” Braxton finished.
“And the Silver Falls groom is standing there waiting for Miss Greeley,” Phoebe said. “While Miss Greeley is in St. Louis with no clue.”
Augusta clutched her heart. “We are going to be sued.”
Braxton shook his head. “Not if we fix it fast.” He tapped the telegram. “We’ve got two brides in the wrong town, one groom waitin’ in the right town, another that probably hasn’t figured things out yet, and a telegraph office wondering if we’ve gone mad. That sound about right?”
“Yes,” Phoebe said.
“Then we tell ‘em what to do.” He looked toward the messenger boy, who was still hovering by the door. “You in a rush to go anywhere else?”
The boy shook his head quickly. “No, sir.”
“Good.” Braxton turned back to the desk. “We’re gonna need three answers. One for St. Louis, one for Silver Falls, and one for Cotton Ridge.” He turned to Phoebe. “Write this down.” Braxton dictated, words coming as if he were home directing his ranch hands.
“To Mr. Henry Cummings of St. Louis. Bride for Silver Falls arrived St. Louis by error. Stop. Keep her safe. Stop. Put her on next train to Silver Falls. Stop. Charge our account. Stop.
He thought about a young woman in a strange city with possibly no money. He looked at Phoebe. “Add, please ensure bride is given safe lodging and food until train departure. Stop. Will reimburse funds.”
He paced. “Now to Mr. Henderson in Silver Falls. Tell him…”
Augusta gasped. “We must be gentle. He’s probably furious.”
Braxton snorted. “I’d be furious too, if I were him. But I’d rather be told the truth than left wonderin’.”
Phoebe nodded, pen poised. “Go on.”
“Bride for Silver Falls arrived St. Louis by error. Keep bride meant for St. Louis safe. Stop. Put her on next train to St. Louise. Stop. Charge our account. Stop.”
Phoebe added, “Deepest apologies. Stop. Will send longer letter by post. Stop.”
Braxton glanced sideways at her. “Always polishing my words, aren’t you?”
Her mouth curved. “Someone has to.”
He ignored the way his chest warmed at that. Braxton rattled off instructions for Mr. Joseph Henderson and that his bride was… delayed. They still had to figure out where she wound up. Nevada City?
Augusta sagged into a chair. “What a mess. Are we sure it’s all fixable?”
“It will be,” Josie said. “Once we stop sending people to the wrong cities. And that can only happen if we fill out our own forms correctly. Our brides are trusting that we know what we’re doing. Unfortunately, we haven’t done a very good job of it since Val left.”
Margaret dabbed her eyes. “She was so capable and efficient. How are we going to survive until she gets back?”
