Hannah: A Bride For Cowboy Warren (Mail Order Brides For The Doyle Brothers Book 1) (6 page)

Winnie gave a short, humorless laugh.

“I talked with her and she has a proposition of her own.”

Winnie sniffed and sat up, finally brushing away the tears. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Bettie said, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. “She’ll agree to let you go if…”

“To
let
me go?” Winnie shook her head. “I’m
twenty
. I can go with or without her consent.”

“That may be true, but you should consider the effect you leaving like that would have on us all.” Bettie always thought of how things would affect everyone else. “Have you so quickly forgotten our agreement all those years ago?”

Winnie felt a pang of guilt. With the unexpected death of their parents years ago, they had made a pact to stay together. Winnie hadn’t thought that would stop any of them from marrying though.

“But—”

“Wait dear,” Bettie continued. “Just hear me out.”

“All right. What are Callie’s
conditions?
”

Bettie took the time to swallow before she answered. “Callie says that you can go if he agrees to take us all.”

“What?” Winnie sat up in a start. She frowned, and her forehead creased in the center.

“She thinks if we would all move out west, we can keep an eye on you two so you can have a proper courtship. Then, when the time is right, you can get married.”

Winnie felt her hands form into fists, but she pushed her temper down. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’s a good idea, Winnie.” Bettie’s voice softened and Winnie thought she saw sadness on her sister’s face. “Just think of it like a fresh start—for all of us.”

Before Winnie could respond, Bettie stood and left. Her words hung in the air, and Winnie rubbed a hand over her face. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Not by a long shot.

She dropped her hand on the bed, and it landed on the letter from Russell. She picked it up and looked back at the uneven script on the dirty paper. With surprise, she realized there was more written on the back of the letter.

I know this may seem very sudden and forward of me, but if I aim to stake a claim with the Homestead Act, I need to be married in order to do it, as I have not reached the age of twenty-one. I hope to start a new life and establish a new home on my land, and I would like you to be part of that new life with me.

Until your next letter, I am Yours Truly,

Mr. Russell Hanson”

Her heart sank. She knew Callie would think Russell was only out to get a wife so he could buy some land, but she knew that wasn’t his only intention. She touched the scrawled signature and smiled. She folded the letter and stuffed it under her side of the bed. She may have to take her sisters to South Dakota with her, but once they were there she
would
marry Russell Hanson no matter what Callie said. She sat at her bedside table and pulled a sheet of stationery from the drawer.

My Dear Russell,

After prayerful and thoughtful consideration, I am willing to travel to Yankton to meet you. However, my oldest sister has required that if I am to make the trip, they all must accompany me as chaperones, and I must honor her request. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Excerpt from Book 2 of the “Dakota Mail Order Brides” Series

Chapter 1

Yankton, South Dakota | April 1863

“There’s a leak right above my bed,” Essie said. A frown pulled the corners of her petite mouth downward.

Bettie closed her eyes for a moment. Her hands were in the warm, soapy water with the dishes she was washing. “I’ll see to it in a minute. Just let me finish the dishes.”

“But it’s getting worse every second. My whole bed will be soaked soon.”

The spring rains had wreaked havoc on their small cabin the church had helped Bettie build. After the cramped winter months living with her newly married sister Winnie and her husband Russell, Bettie realized they would need a home of their own. Winnie’s announcement that she was with child had been the tipping point.

“I’ll be right there. Move your mattress to the side until then.”

“Fine,” Essie said. She huffed off to the corner of the cabin where her mattress sat.

Bettie dipped the last plate in the water and scrubbed, trying to hold on to the peace that seemed more elusive with every passing day. She tried not to doubt her choice to sign up for her own one-hundred sixty acres near Russell’s land. What she didn’t doubt was her choice to have her sisters live with her.

But what she
did
doubt was her own forbearance to care for them both.

Callie was as self-sufficient as any woman, but she hadn’t wanted to register for her own land. Bettie wasn’t sure she had either, but it had been clear that it was the best option for them all.

“I’m coming, I'm coming.” She rushed over to the corner where the roof leaked. It was already creating a puddle on the floor, and she sighed at the sight. “Go get me a towel and the pot that’s sitting on the stove, Essie.”

Her sister complied and came back with a tattered towel and the large pot. Bettie dropped the towel to the floor then placed the large bucket under the dripping rain. The sound of each drop landing in the metal pot echoed in the small space of the cabin.

Bettie took a chair from the table and stood on it to examine the hole. It looked like there was a thin crack where pitch hadn’t been applied. She knew there was no way to patch it now during the rainstorm, but she’d have to find a way to cover it before the next storm.

Tears pressed against her eyes at the thought of how many other things she had to do. She felt like she was drowning under the weight of it all, but yet she couldn’t let her sisters see how she felt. It was her job to keep them all happy, safe, and dry.

“I think I hear Callie coming back, Essie said.”

Bettie sighed. “She’ll be drenched through and through. Why didn’t she wait until the storm passed?”

“She’s in Gus’s wagon, that’s why.”

Bettie got down from the chair and paced to the front door where her younger sister watched. Sure enough, Gus rode up toward the house, his large rain jacket and hat protecting him on the buckboard seat but Bettie could just make out Callie behind him under the oiled muslin roof of the wagon.

“Who’s that with her?” Essie asked.

Bettie strained to see but couldn’t make out the shape with her sister in the back of the wagon. Gus pulled the horse to a stop out front and hopped down. Bettie ran out with a thick blanket to protect her sister from most of the rain, but someone else jumped down beside her. A man.

“Allow me,” his deep voice resonated in the small space between them and Bettie felt her cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up and gasping in surprise. “Reverend?”

“Afternoon Miss Cummins, may I escort you both inside?”

She blushed at her surprise and dipped her head. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

He held the blanket over both of them and they made their way inside. Gus stood in the doorway, and rain dripped from his coat and hat. The reverend shook out the blanket and draped it over a chair in front of the fire.

“I can’t thank you enough, Gus,” Callie said. She smiled at their gruff friend. He moved to the other side of the door frame. Bettie was used to seeing him with a cane, but apparently he hadn’t thought it necessary to bring with him.

“Would you like to sit?” Bettie asked. She knew how much pain he felt in his leg, and she wanted him to be comfortable.

              “No, but thank you, ma’am,” he said. He nodded once, and drops of rainwater fell to the floor.

“Can I get you anything, Reverend?” she asked. She forced her eyes to meet his. In the dim light inside the cabin his usually bright blue eyes looked dark and clouded like the sky outside.

“No thank you.” He offered her a reserved smile. “I just came along to ask if you ladies need anything the church could provide?”

His offer, given in Christian kindness, pricked at Bettie’s pride. She wasn’t prone to giving in to prideful feelings. That was usually Callie’s realm, but something about looking helpless in front of these capable men made Bettie
feel
less fortunate.

“No, but thank you for asking. We are doing quite well, aren’t we, sisters?” She forced a smile at the reverenced.

“You enjoy a leaky roof?” Gus spoke up and Bettie felt her cheeks heat.

“It’s nothing we won’t be able to fix when the rains stop.”

Gus stared her down, as if demanding the truth from her.

“I would be happy to come by and fix it,” the reverenced said.

“Well—” Bettie began.

“Oh would you?” Essie asked, her young features brightening. “It’s where my bed is and I’d fancy not getting dripped on in the night.”

Gus laughed but tried to cover it up with a scratchy cough.

“Of course,” the reverend said. “As soon as the rain stops I’ll come by. Hopefully it won’t be too long.”

Bettie wanted to protest, but she decided it would seem rude.

“Thank you so much, Reverend. We’ll see you then,” Callie said. She stepped forward with a warm smile as the men turned toward the door. Bettie watched them leave and felt yet another area in her life seem to slip away. Just one more thing that she couldn’t control.

Reverend Victor Cullen jumped down from Gus’s wagon and jogged up to the small parish house attached to the church. His jacket and black hat were drenched with rain. He stepped inside and shook out his coat and hung it on a peg by the door. He placed his hat by the fire to dry, and added two more logs and stoked the embers.

The scent of rising bread made his stomach rumble. He rinsed his hands then pulled out the dough from the warm spot near the fire. He built a fire in the oven and put the risen dough inside to bake.

He stretched his hands over his head and let out a groan. He’d made rounds to the smaller homes near the church but he hadn’t visited as many parishioners as he’d planned on. When he’d seen Gus heading out to Russell Hanson’s ranch he’d hopped aboard which had started the adventure for the rest of his afternoon.

Weariness seeped into his bones. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and put a pot of water on the stovetop to boil for coffee. He took a few potatoes and carrots from the basket on the counter and took a knife from the drawer. There was still time left in the day for him to study and pray in preparation for his message that Sunday, but a good stew would make the fatigue go away.

As he chopped, he paused for a moment with one hand on the knife and the other on a potato. A vision of Bettie Cummins’ pretty face floated in his memory. He could see the sparkle of her light brown eyes, and her strawberry blonde hair framed her face like a halo. She was by far the most beautiful woman in town—at least in his opinion.

The scent of the bread knocked on his mind, and he rushed to the oven to check on it. It wasn’t done, but it was becoming golden brown on top.

He finished chopping the vegetables and dropped them into the water over the fire. They sizzled as the water boiled up around them.

Bettie had behaved different that afternoon. He sensed she didn’t want any help to fix the leaky roof of their small cabin. His parishioners had done as good a job as possible so that the women would have a decent place to live that fulfilled her claim obligations, but clearly there had been a few problems. He thought back to the interior of the cabin. What else had been missing? Were there other things he could help fix or provide for them?

His stomach clenched but this time it wasn’t from hunger. If he were honest with himself he would admit that he just wanted to be around her. To spend time getting to know her better. Being handy could just be the way to do that, if she’d let him help.

Victor checked the bread again and it was done. He pulled it out with his hand wrapped in a thick towel. He turned out the loaf on a plate, checked the stew and then made himself a cup of strong coffee.

He knew he was wasting his thoughts on Bettie. She was beautiful, but young—at least seven years his junior. Despite his effort, she didn’t seem interested in his attentions. Then again, barging into her home dripping wet and demanding to fix her roof may not have been the best way to get her attention. He carried his coffee across the room to his desk and dropped into his chair. He put his coffee down, propped his elbows on the desk between his open Bible and a stack of papers and leaned his head against his closed fist.

What would you have me do, Lord?

The silence of his small parish house seemed loud today. It was at times like this he felt the inclination to find a wife. He was certain the Lord had called him into ministry five years ago, but at the time he had been young and impulsive. He had been prepared to do anything and everything to be out on his own.

Now things were different. He’d seen the beauty of love in the couples he married. The small glances they gave each other when they thought no one else was looking. The happiness on their faces when they shared the news they were expecting a child.

The ache deepened in his chest. Maybe his father had been right. Maybe he should have waited to come out west. He’d wanted to escape the looming proposition of working for his father in the bank, but he hadn’t fully thought through the wisdom of his father’s admonitions.

What was done was done. Victor shoved the chair back and rose to his feet. He walked to the fire and stirred the pot of stew before picking up his Bible and sheets of paper to read and take some notes.

Maybe there was a way to show Bettie that he cared by serving her and helping her in her time of need. Through that, it was possible that the Lord could open up a door.

Letting out a deep breath, Victor focused on releasing his anxiety and giving everything over to the Lord. Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee. That verse from Psalms had comforted him in the past, and today it was just as comforting. The Lord’s way was always the best, and he knew it was the only way to escape the deepening fear that he would be alone forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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“
Homestead FAITH: Bettie’s Story
”
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