Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) by Cassie Hayes Page B

said, perching her large bottom on a stack of Oriental rugs to take the load off her arthritic knees. “Although I’d take a snootful of that ‘woodka’ stuff you drink.”
    “ Da ,” he said, pulling a bottle from behind the counter. “What can I do for you, pretty ladies?”
    The women outlined their plan to help the under-clothed at the Rancherie as Vladimir listened, arms crossed and expressionless. When they finished, he didn’t speak, just stared out the window. Had they overstepped?  
    Over the last month, he’d gone out of his way to make her and Matthew feel welcome, helping them whenever he could. His generous and respectful demeanor made her suspicious at first, but he showed the same respect to every single person who walked in his doors — man, woman, white, Tlingit, it didn’t seem to matter to Vladimir.  
    But his silence caused a fog of worry to bloom in her heart that perhaps she’d misread the man. Eddie seemed nonplussed as she sipped her vodka, waiting patiently. Finally, Vladimir sniffed and wiped at his eyes.  
    “You—“ his voice cracked with emotion and he shook his head. Was he crying? “You ladies do wonderful thing. So many need so much.”
    “So are you in?” Eddie asked bluntly, as was her habit.
    “ Da . Yes, very honored. Alexander has family in Rancherie. He always take food when he visit. Now he take clothes, too.”
    They spent the next hour picking out warm fabrics, settling on the most needed items, and filling out an order for more supplies. With any luck, the goods would be sent back up on the next steamer in a month’s time.  
    “You sure you can handle all this sewing yourself, dear?” Eddie asked, tipping her empty glass at Vladimir for a refill.  
    Anyone else would have been shocked by the sight of a lady drinking alcohol in a shop like that, but Poppy had seen so much worse in her life that it barely phased her. When Mrs. Austin warned her that Eddie might be a bad influence, it had taken all of Poppy’s strength to not laugh out loud. Sure, she was loud and brash and opinionated, but she was also funny, big-hearted and generous to a fault. She’d come to truly love the old woman.
    “Of course. The school has several sewing machines, and the Austins have already agreed to let me use them at night. Won’t take any time at all.”
    “At night?” Vladimir scowled in concern. “What about Matthew?”
    “What about him?”
    “Will he not be lonely?” Vladimir shot a glance over at Eddie who smirked at Poppy. What were these two up to?
    “You both know our situation. Ours is a marriage in name only. Besides, the way he keeps talking about Boston, I don’t think he’ll be here much longer.”
    Poppy winced at the pang in her chest at the thought of Matthew leaving. Their evening chats before retiring had become the highlight of her day, something she looked forward to, even if they usually ended with him waxing rhapsodic about some part of Boston he missed. Except for her mother, there was nothing in Massachusetts for Poppy to miss.
    He did seem to be warming up to Sitka though — well, at least he wasn’t complaining about it as much. If he’d only stay until the long, temperate days of summer, then surely he’d come to love it as much as she already did. They could take walks in the woods, laughing at the way the deer pranced away from them or searching out the fallen totem poles the Tlingits at the Rancherie had told her about. Maybe stroll down the park at Indian River, the stretch the locals called Lovers’ Lane. But that wasn’t going to happen. He’d be gone before long, just one more man who didn’t want to be around her.
    Eddie opened her mouth to say something when a ruckus outside stopped her. Horses whinnied in surprise, men shouted, a dog yelped in pain, and then a scream pierced the air, sending ripples of terror down Poppy’s spine.
    It was a child’s scream.
    Before the terrible sound even stopped, Vladimir sprinted for the