Hannah: A Bride For Cowboy Warren (Mail Order Brides For The Doyle Brothers Book 1) (8 page)

Excerpt from A Meant-To-Be Mail Order Brides Western Romance

All In A Letter

Light filtered in through the tall windows lining the walls of the church. Dust motes did a slow dance in the air as Clara Thomas awaited the arrival of her last pupil. While she waited, her fingers traced the cool ivory keys in front of her. It had been over three months since she’d been forced to sacrifice her one remaining, precious possession to stay out of debt.  The regret of having to part with the piano she inherited from her mother still gnawed at her.  Memories of long-ago melodies played while seated at her mother’s side floated through her mind, and she felt the vise of guilt squeeze a tear from her eye.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud bang of a slammed door at the back of the church, and the sound of footsteps pounded toward her. A soft smile parted her lips as she watched the little boy skid to a stop in front of her.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Thomas.” The boy’s golden hair flew in every possible direction and he chewed on the corner of his lip.

“That’s all right, Robert.” She gave him a smile and he stopped biting his lip. “Just remember that being on time for your lessons is an important skill to master.”  He nodded and he frowned at the soft chastisement.

“I would have been here on time, but Pa told me he had a letter for you and I had to wait for him to get it so I could give it to ya.”

“A letter you say?  Do you have it with you?”  Clara’s stomach did a nervous flip and she smoothed her hands over her dress.  She tried to hide the effort to take a moment to compose herself in front of her pupil.

“’Course,” he said.  “I took special care of it.”  He pulled the crumpled letter from his back pocket and handed it to Clara.  She took the letter from Robert and her hands trembled when she saw the familiar script.  He had written her back.

“Thank you, Robert.  You did very well.” She trucked the letter into her satchel and turned her full attention back to her student. “Let’s begin our lesson, shall we?”

The little boy took his place on the piano bench and wiggled his fingers over the keyboard before resting them in the ready position to play his scales. With painstaking care, and a tongue at the corner of his mouth he played the C scale.

Clara tried to focus on her young student, offering critiques when necessary, but as Robert played through the normal routine of basic scales, her thoughts drifted to the letter tucked away in her satchel. In some ways she felt it determined her fate.

The memory of his strong, bold script as it flowed across the pages of his letters made her smile. Ezra Boone wasn’t a romantic man by most standards, but the kind words in his letters tugged at her heart. In some ways they reminded her of the bold and determined way Charles used to speak, but Charles had rarely said much that tugged at her heart.  Ezra’s words were full of meaning and had a softness her husband’s hadn’t possessed when he’d been alive. She loved Charles and loved being his wife, but it hadn’t always been easy. Since his death two years ago, Clara still felt the occasional pang of grief when she was alone.  She missed him but she had to move on. It was the only thing left for her to do.

“Is that right, Mrs. Thomas?” Robert asked.  His face was the picture of concentration as he played two notes of his scale over and over again.  “Don’t sound right.”

“What?”

“My scale don’t sound right.  Did I do it right?”  She blinked and shook her head and came back to the present.

“My scale doesn’t sound correct, Robert.”  She corrected his speech and he scowled at her and then smiled.

“Your scale doesn’t sound correct, Mrs. Thomas.”  He emphasized the same words and she laughed and patted him on the head.

“Very good.  And no, dear. Your first and fourth fingers need to go up to F-sharp for a G scale.”

“Oh, gottcha.” He turned his focus back to the piano, played the two correct notes a few times in a row and continued on.

With the corrected notes floating in the air, she pondered her situation.  If Ezra asked her to marry him and she accepted, she knew it would mean leaving Providence and everything she had ever known. It would also mean leaving her students and her heart dropped at that thought.

She stepped to the side and observed Robert finishing the A scale without any mistakes. He had come so far in only four months of lessons and she saw a genuine talent in the little boy.  He was one of two remaining students, and the reality of making a living teaching piano had come to an end for her.

She answered Ezra’s advertisement for a mail-order-bride as her last hope to escape to a new and better life, and nervous flutters danced in her stomach. She needed to read Ezra’s letter.

Ezra Boone stood in the parlor and tried to look everywhere but out the window, but it was no use. The post was certain to come soon.  He heard the call of the train whistle fifteen minutes ago, but Joseph was still nowhere to be seen.

The parlor’s stuffy air felt constricting and he adjusted the collar of his shirt.  He drew in a deep breath and sighed.  Through her letters she made it clear that her circumstances were dire and that his advertisement had come at the exact time needed. He was sure Clara would accept the invitation to be his bride, and he hoped her next letter he would confirm it.

Ezra glanced out the window again and the street was deserted. If his calculations were correct, he should receive a reply today. Clara’s last letter lay opened on his desk and he picked it up to read it one more time.  It was his idea to correspond to see if they seemed to be compatible, but he couldn’t but feel uneasy about this entire idea.  Her eager agreement and suggestion that they should trade letters for at least three months had lessened his uneasiness.  His experience in the banking business taught him one thing...if something seems too good to be true, it always was.  If she was trying to swindle him, she probably wouldn’t want to wait for at least three months.  The sound of horse’s hooves pounding the pavement drew his attention to the window.  Finally!

“Joseph,” Ezra said as he opened the front door.

“Letter for you Mr. Boone.”   Joseph was no older than fourteen and Ezra ignored the grin on the boy’s face as he took the letter from him.

“Thank you,” Ezra said.

“Got anything to go out in the mail this week?”

Ezra weighed his options. He could wait to read her letter and craft a careful reply, or he could read it now and respond immediately. He was typically prone to careful consideration and planning, but something inside told him that an impulsive reply might be the best.

“Can you spare a few minutes while I write a reply?”

The boy considered the request, though only briefly. “’Course, Mr. Boone. Mind if I water my horse while I wait?”

“That will be fine, Joseph.”

The boy took the reins and led his dusty horse behind him.  Ezra held the letter in his hands as if they held a fragile creature.  It held more significance than he wanted to admit. Between the day he posted his advertisement and the day he’d received Clara’s well-crafted response, something had changed in him.  It was subtle and yet impossible to ignore.  His heart told him it was time to move on.

His late wife Grace was never far from his thoughts since her death three years earlier.  His large house felt empty, and the time he did spend there was only to eat and sleep.  He made a good living as a banker, but money meant nothing with no one to share it with.

Ezra ripped open the seal and read the four words written in her perfect penmanship above her signature.

“Sweet and to the point,” he whispered with a smile. “I accept your proposal.  Clara.”

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Excerpt from A “Mail Order Brides Of The Prairie” Romance

Arrivals

Annabelle stared out of the window and watched the scenery breeze past. The cities had disappeared hours ago, replaced with thick brush and tall trees. The rhythm of the train’s wheels was hypnotic, and she shifted in her seat and peered back down at her book.

The words on the pages blurred and she closed her eyes. What had she got herself into? Part of her was excited about the prospect of a new life. The other part was terrified.

She was born into a lavish life in Philadelphia and she’d grown up wanting for nothing. Her family enjoyed all the finer things in life, and in one tragic day it all fell apart.

A fire tore through her family’s home and her mother had been trapped inside. Her father had lost his will to live when she died. She couldn’t believe the kind, strong man she knew as a child crawled inside a whiskey bottle and refused to come out.  His brother took advantage of the situation and convinced her father to invest in a business venture that left him--left them--in financial ruin. He died less than a year after her mother, and she didn’t know if it was from the whiskey or from shame.

Her uncle had taken her in to live with them, and she was thankful for the gesture. At first it seemed a blessing, but it quickly turned into a curse. She shuddered at the memory of his business partner. He was a large, rude man twice her age, and she knew his intentions. She often caught him staring at her and she shivered again.  After she overheard a conversation he had with her uncle, she knew something had to change.  The man offered to take Annabelle “of his hands” for a fee.

Faced with the probability of a forced marriage she’d taken matters into her own hands. Many men in the West were searching for brides. She’d responded to an ad, and now she was on her way to the Dakota Territory.

She was in uncharted territory, far from everything she knew. David seemed kind in her letters, but that was no assurance he would be in reality.  What if it was an act? What if he was as horrible as her uncle’s partner? Would she be able to return home? And if she did, what would she return to? No, David Abernathy had to be a good man. She’d staked her entire future on it.

Annabelle gasped at the screech of the train’s brakes. She was here, next stop. Her heart fluttered, but whether from fear or excitement she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was both. This was it. Her new life was about to start.

She cleared her throat and tucked her book into her bag. Her hands trembled and she gathered her belongings together. She didn’t know this man. What if this was a mistake? At least in Philadelphia, she could have continued living the life she’d been accustomed to, even if it was with an unseemly, overbearing, controlling monster. She didn’t know which was worse.

The train’s whistle blew loudly as the wheels ground to a halt. She stood and brushed away the wrinkles on her dress. It was time to start a new life.

Annabelle pulled in a deep breath as the conductor helped her step onto the platform.  The hot, dry air filled her lungs. She hadn’t expected it to be so warm. The sun’s rays beat down on her and sweat beaded on her brow.

She shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed down the center of the small town in front of her.  She saw a few shops, a hotel and the obligatory saloon. The street was busy with carriages and horseback riders, and they kicked up a heavy dust that settled almost as fast as it had risen. She covered her mouth with her hand and the same thought she’d had since she boarded the train crossed her mind…What have I gotten myself into?

“Ms. Davis? Annabelle?” A male voice jolted her from her thoughts.

She turned and scanned the busy platform for the source of the voice. A tall man approached her.  He wore a damp tan shirt and his breeches were worn and dusty. She couldn’t make out his face under the shadow of his hat. Butterflies flitted in her belly and she shifted on her feet.

“I’m Annabelle Davis,” she said. Her voice cracked.

The man removed his black hat and tipped his head to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Annabelle, I’m David Abernathy. Welcome to Dakota City.” He extended his calloused hand to her and she cleared her throat and placed her delicate hand in his.  He gripped her hand and shook it.

She wasn’t used to being greeted this way, and the action felt odd to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abernathy,” she said.  She was good at reading people, and she took a moment to study him. He was taller than she’d expected--at least a head taller. His dark hair was slicked back and scruffy whiskers covered his upper lip and jaw. He was rugged and handsome and very different than the clean-shaven well-to-do men back home.

“I can take this for you.” Without waiting for her response he took the small bag from her hands. “I brought the carriage for your other bags. They should be loading them now. Did you need anything from town before we leave for the ranch?” he asked.  He offered his arm to her. “It is a long journey and I only visit my local store once a week on Saturday.”

She shook her head side to side and offered a polite smile. She had only a few coins, and she wanted to hold onto them in case of an emergency…in case something didn’t go as she expected.

It wouldn’t take much time to load her things into his wagon. All her possessions fit into one large bag. The fire had claimed most everything she owned, and her uncle hadn’t provided more than the basic needs. Compared to Mr. Abernathy she was a pauper.

“Very well then. We should be on our way. We’ll want to be home before the sun sets,” he advised.

She accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her to the carriage. The one-horse buggy seemed old and rickety but she supposed it would get them to where they needed to go. David climbed aboard first and the buggy sagged under his weight. He turned, and offered his hand to her.

Annabelle drew in a deep breath and placed her hand in his.  He smiled and pulled her up and she settled herself on the hard seat.  She shivered as her new reality set in. Everything was going to be okay.

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