Freedom For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 2) (6 page)

The next morning, Gretchen woke early and began to prepare breakfast. Moira and Matthew had ridden home the day before with Mr. Russell, once he finally managed to take their thinly veiled hints that it was past time for him to go. The four of them, Moira, Gretchen, Katia, and Nathaniel, had sat in the warm, brightly lit cabin until long past the time any of them would have ordinarily eaten their noonday meal, chatting politely and making quiet conversation while Katia looked on. They knew that Nathaniel was too excited to leave now that he’d finally met his future bride and things had at least appeared to be put to rights, but it didn’t stop the evening from creeping closer and closer toward dark.

Katia emerged from behind the calico curtain that hid the bed from view, reaching for an apron from a nail and tying it over her dress. “Katia?” she asked, pointing to the ceramic bowl where Gretchen had been stirring eggs. The maid smiled and handed over the bowl and fork to turn the bacon in the hot iron skillet on the grate.

“Eggs,” Gretchen announced as she stood up straight again. She pointed to the bowl then picked up another egg in its shell. “Egg.”

Katia nodded her understanding of what Gretchen was trying to do and repeated the strange syllable, adding a little too much of a guttural sound on the end. While they worked, they made their way around the kitchen and then the rest of the cabin, Gretchen calling out the new words and Katia repeating them. After they’d eaten and cleaned up, Gretchen took the newcomer on a quizzing tour of the house, restating the words that Katia had forgotten and praising her efforts at the ones she remembered.

They had just finished a walk around the outside of the cabin and to the barn in which they uncovered even more new words when a voice called out a greeting. They both turned to see Nathaniel riding up on his horse, leading the other half of his team by the reins.

“Oh, dear, I know what he intends to do,” Gretchen said under her breath. She wasn’t sure how the new girl would react to not only riding with a man unattended, but also to riding at all for that matter. She cast a quick glance at Katia but was happy to see the look of delighted anticipation on her face.

Katia approached and held up a hand to keep Nathaniel from speaking. She stood taller, squared her shoulders, and said in a loud voice, “Whores.”

Neither Gretchen nor Nathaniel spoke, both of them too shocked to reply. Katia petted the horse’s soft, velvety nose and proudly repeated her new word. “Whores!”

Gretchen pressed a hand to her mouth, but finally Nathaniel couldn’t hold in the laughter. He turned away so the ladies wouldn’t see his reaction, but it was too late. He tried to muffle his amusement but only succeeded in getting even more tickled. Even Gretchen had to smile, as much as she tried not to. Katia looked confused.

“No, Katia. NO,” Gretchen repeated with emphasis. “Mr. Russell, if you’d not mind giving us a moment’s privacy?” She waited until he’d climbed down from the saddle and walked away aimlessly. “Whores…bad. No whores.” She shook her head, trying to get her point across and silently cursing herself for repeating the damnable word. “Horse. This is a horse. Ssssssssss.”

Katia just smiled, wholly unaware of her mistake. “Yes. Whores.”

“Oh, dear me,” Gretchen said with a desperate sigh. “I’ve got it. Pony! Let’s just call it a pony. All right then? Pony! There’ll be time enough when you can speak plainly to figure out the difference. ‘Tis all right now, Mr. Russell. Miss Noryeva would very much like to go for a ‘pony’ ride now.”

Gretchen turned and went in the house without waiting to see them off, already worn out from the lessons of the morning. She was only too glad to be a companion and chaperone for the future Mrs. Russell but began to dread the impact the lessons might have on her mortal soul if she wasn’t careful.

She peeked out the window and saw Nathaniel timidly offer his hand to Katia to hoist her up into the saddle. Katia grasped the saddle with both hands but looked unsure about this strange man’s touch. Finally, she acquiesced and let him help her. Gretchen smiled to herself. She knew Mr. Russell well enough to know he’d take his own life before he’d hurt another soul, let alone a lady, but she was glad that Katia still had enough wherewithal to be cautious, especially about men who’d packed up their lives and headed for the isolation of the Montana wilds.

Despite the constant chill in the air, the wind had died down considerably over the last few weeks, leaving the mid-morning feeling almost pleasant by comparison. Nathaniel snuck glances at Katia out of the corner of his eye from time to time, smiling to himself at the realization that she was finally here.

“You?” he began, pulling the woman out of her thoughts. She looked up and waited, hoping to understand. “You… my house?” he asked, gesturing to himself and then holding his hand up above his eyes, mimicking someone looking for something.

Katia looked unsure. She couldn’t decipher his full meaning, but she thought he meant to take her to his home. According to what she’d learned at the agency back east, she was not required to step one foot on his property without a legally certified marriage. She’d heard tales among her own people of girls who’d been swept off, never to be heard from again. But somehow, this strange man didn’t seem like the type.

She wanted to trust him, to get to know him better but knew that she could never make herself understood. Finally, an idea came to her.

“Gretchen?” she asked, pointing back in the direction from which they’d ridden. “Gretchen… Katia… you house?”

Nathanial smiled and nodded eagerly, secretly thrilled at how easily he understood her meaning. “Sure thing! We’ll go get Gretchen and pack up a few blankets for the ride. I know, we can even stop by and get Mac and his wife! We’ll make a day of it!”

Katia looked blank again but was happy with his reaction to her feeble attempts at communicating. He led them back to the cabin at a quick trot, also glad to see that his future wife was capable in the saddle and comfortable when riding. She had been all that he’d hoped she would be and more—good-natured, quick to smile, and strong, but beautiful in his eyes as well.

“Miss O’Brien!” Nathaniel called out from his saddle. “Can you come out here?”

Gretchen rushed to the door, worried that Katia didn’t just come inside herself. She wiped her hands on her apron as she ran out, confused at seeing the two of them grinning in the yard.

“Katia was wondering if you would come with her to see my property. I’d like to show her where she’ll live if she’ll have me, but she doesn’t want to go by herself.”

“Oh, aye, she told you that much now, did she?” Gretchen said with a light scoff. She knew the signs of a man who was smitten when she saw them, and Mr. Russell was certainly a goner.

“Well, sure! She told me so herself!” he answered back playfully. “I thought we’d hitch my horses to the wagon out back, then swing by the MacAteer’s place and ask them to come along. We’ll make a grand day of it!”

“That certainly sounds fine, Mr. Russell, but I’ve just set some bread out to rise. If you’ll both come inside a moment, I can finish the bread and gather some tasties to bring with us. Have you plenty of chairs at your place?”

“Oh, I guess I don’t. I was waiting to make a rocker as a wedding present, but otherwise, I’ve just got a couple of old stools that I made from logs.” He looked somewhat downcast at not having provided better for his potential wife, whomever she ended up being, but Gretchen chalked it up to what she really knew was bothering him: Mr. Russell had been afraid of jinxing himself by getting his hopes up too high. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“I was only inquiring to see if we needed to bring any chairs along. We can take these from the kitchen table, I’m sure Lady— I mean, Mrs. MacAteer won’t mind at all, seeing as how she’s not using them herself these days. Send Katia inside to help me fix some vittles, and bring in some more eggs from the barn, if you’ll be so kind. If there’s enough, I’ll make us a fine pudding for after supper!”

Nathaniel couldn’t stop himself from helping Katia down from the saddle, any excuse to hold her hand, even if it was just for a brief few seconds. She joined her new friend in the cabin while he tended the horses and fetched the eggs Gretchen needed to make the occasion into a real party.

An hour later, they were bouncing along the brown grassy slope toward Pryor’s farm, some supplies and pots of food wedged in the straw to keep from overturning. Katia beamed, and Gretchen couldn’t help but feel pleased as well. This was working out far better than she could have expected. Perhaps there was something to the idea of writing off for a wife though, as a house servant to a noble family in Ireland, she would have never found herself given in marriage to a stranger. It was odd to reflect on how much comfort there was in one’s station; both Lady Moira Brennan and this young, frightened foreigner had been promised to men they’d never laid eyes on, while Gretchen would have had complete control over her position. She would have been free to marry one of the household servants—one of her choosing, that is—or even to marry a man from the surrounding countryside, should she have had the opportunity to meet him. She would have also been free to remain a spinster should she so choose, a fate which seemed to be more and more likely the longer she stayed in New Hope.

Who would have ever imagined that being a servant would be the most freedom a woman could hope for?
she mused before quickly returning Katia’s smile.

The MacAteers were surprised by their guests, but happy to oblige just the same. Moira invited Gretchen and Katia to sit inside after Pryor made Nathaniel agree to help him put up three fence posts before they could go gallivanting off to his place. Gretchen, spying the work of putting up turnips from the garden, immediately set to work at the table cutting the vegetables into cubes for Moira to put in the hot jars while Katia listened to their easy conversation, trying to decipher the many different, strange sounds of their language.

No sooner were they up to their elbows in their work than Matthew woke from his nap. He began to cry, and Moira searched frantically for an empty surface to set the overflowing pot.

“I…” Katia said, standing up and looking to Moira for permission. “I? Baby, I?”

Gretchen and Moira exchanged a glance before they finally understood. Moira nodded gratefully. “That would be so helpful, yes! Thank you, Katia!” she said slowly and with deliberate attention to her words.

Katia approached the cradle, leaned down, and scooped the tiny infant in her hands. She nestled the baby close, holding him snugly while checking to see if he was warm and his wraps were dry. He immediately stopped his crying and fell back into a deep sleep, his tiny fingers finding their way to his cheeks and resting there.

“I must say it, Gretchen, he is such a peculiar babe. He cries out like that from time to time, almost as if he were dreaming something awful. But I’d always thought wee ones did naw have dreams like ours, least as old Mrs. Baker used to say.”

“Oh, posh. That old bat was as daft as they come, dontcha remember? She was near enough to a witch to have been visited by the constable on occasion, you know!”

“Oh, that’s enough of that,” Moira chided jokingly. “You and I both know she weren’t no witch, that was just what Lady Heffernan said of her after that incident with the sheep running in front of their carriage. Like it’s Mrs. Baker’s fault that a sheep would naw stop and come back when called?” The two women laughed at the memory of the servants chasing a wayward sheep around the property while a carriage of ladies who had come to call were nearly toppled over in the skirmish.

They prattled on about stories from home for a while longer, finishing their task and swapping tales while Katia rocked Matthew by the fireplace. Gretchen looked over once and put a finger to her lips, gesturing for Moira to keep quiet and look to where a tear or two rolled down Katia’s cheeks.

“How strange,” Gretchen breathed quietly. “Crying so over a babe? She looks to be weeping, does she naw?”

“Yes, ‘tis odd, I agree. You don’t think…” Moira let her question hang between them until Gretchen pestered her to continue. “You don’t think ‘tis possible she had a child of her own, do you? Or still has, for that matter?”

“Oh, dear, that does change things if ‘tis be so.” They watched Katia for a moment, both of them turning and exchanging a worried look when she did the strangest thing, leaning forward and pressing her nose to Matthew’s forehead, breathing in the scent of the tiny child.

“Now that’s surely a mother’s gesture if ever I saw one,” Gretchen said worriedly.

There was no time for further speculation once the door opened and Pryor and Nathaniel came inside, stomping the dirt from their boots for good measure on the pan that Pryor kept by the door for such a purpose. They’d already washed up in the basin on the porch and now set about loading the rest of the supplies in the wagon. Pryor would ride his own horse alongside them, leaving the scant bit of room in the back of the wagon for Moira, Gretchen, and Matthew. Katia would sit on the seat beside Nathaniel, appropriate since there were other ladies along to serve as chaperones.

Along the way, Gretchen and Moira continued their fearful conversation, slipping into Irish to keep their thoughts to themselves.

“Are you two talking fancy so I don’t understand you?” Nathaniel asked jokingly. “I’d hate to think of what you might be saying about me!”

Gretchen colored to the roots of her red hair at having been found out, but Moira recovered like the practiced lady that she was.

“Oh, no, Mr. Russell, we’re only having our own little conversation so we can give you some privacy to speak to Miss Noryeva. We’d hate to be accused of eavesdropping, of course, so we’ve ensured that we’re otherwise occupied.”

“What a cool liar you are!” Gretchen said in Irish, looking around guiltily with a wicked grin. Moira laughed.

“Well, I’d hate for him to know what we were supposing!” she answered in the same. “But as long as we’re being gossiping like ugly old washer women, how do you imagine it could be true?”

“I don’t know the answer to that myself, I thought to ask you! What if she had a child back home, and ‘tis why she came to America? To get away from the scandal?”

“Oh, I think you’re putting too much stock in people’s reputations. The year ‘tis 1852, it’s not the same as it used to be. A girl may be ruined for a proper marriage, but she would naw have to flee for her life, I should naw think.”

“You don’t think she might have been a wife and mother back in Russia? Remember the news in town, there’s a revolution coming to those people. Perhaps her husband was a soldier and was killed?” They both turned pale at the thought, and Moira unconsciously looked in Pryor’s direction to reassure herself that her husband was well.

“It could be. But we may just be thinking too wrongly of the poor dear. For all we can know, maybe she had brothers and sisters that she once tended and was simply thinking back fondly to her childhood. There’s no need to assume she was wanton before agreeing to marry Mr. Russell.”

“Uh oh, you’ve spoken his name. I think he knows we’re talking about him,” Gretchen said quietly, forcing an unconcerned smile on her face and shifting into English as she changed the subject. “So did you tell the MacAteers of the goodies we’ve brought along, Mr. Russell? There’s a pudding that I’m right proud of if it’s not too boastful to say!”

Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing full well that the conversation they’d just been having couldn’t have been about puddings and cakes, not after the way they’d leaned close and lowered their voices. But there was no sense in causing dismay by calling them on it, he decided. The four of them chatted gaily the rest of the way to his cabin while Katia took it all in.