Romance: Mail Order Bride "The Ideal Bride" Clean Christian Western Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) (179 page)

Chapter 7

Matthew was crouched down low on the ground to assess the soil. Having delivered the first batch of sweet potatoes to the Townsend brothers, he decided to plant both the huckleberries and blueberries. The berry plants would take a couple of years to bear the fruit but would be worth the wait. 

Standing up, he ordered his men to enrich the soil with composted leaves before planting them. He was about to head back inside through the backdoor when he saw Leroy rushing toward him from the sidewalk around the house.

“Sir, there’s a mailman waiting out front.”

He made his way over to where the mailman stood with his horse beside him. He was carrying a large satchel on his back. Noticing Matthew approaching, he asked; “Are you Mr. Russell?”

“Yes, it’s me. What do you have for me?”

Handing him two envelopes, he said, “There’s one from Nebraska and the other from Kansas.”

“Kansas?” he repeated to himself. Had someone really written to him from the bride ad he had placed?

Taking the letters, he reached into his pant pockets and gave a small tip to the mailman who had ridden all the way from town to deliver them to him. Matthew asked him to wait and went inside to reply to the letters. Opening his father’s letter first, he quickly skimmed over his words. His father had written about the ranch back at home, how he missed him there, how glad he was to learn that Matthew’s farm on the French Prairie was up and running. Matthew took out some paper and quickly wrote a short message, telling his father about harvesting his first yield and plantation of the berries. He folded it and put it inside a small envelope, then opened the other letter addressed to him.

“
Bethany Williams,” he read, “lives in Kansas. A twenty-five years old widow with three children.”
That’s something he hadn’t expected. He continued to read. This woman was raising her children on her own. It must be difficult, he thought, her words tugging at his heart as he read about her troubles with saving money. He could tell she was being as honest as she could. A small picture of Bethany fell from the envelope in his hand. Bending to pick it up, he stopped and stared, admiring her face. She looked so young and pretty. Not wanting to waste a second, he picked up his quill and started to write:

Dear Bethany,

I deeply sympathize for the loss of your husband. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose someone you love while being so young. I believe you when you say you can fulfill what I’m looking for in a wife. Let me tell you that I do not have any problem with the fact that I would be taking in your children when I marry you. I know how rushed it must seem to you, but I have been alone here for the past few months and I long for a wife to keep me company and share what I’ve built here. Your children will be a wonderful addition to this house. It needs life and love and the touch of a woman to make it feel like a home.

Coming to the matter regarding your loan, I agree with you. You should leave immediately before something untoward happens. I do not know your employer but I do know that it isn’t safe for you there. Men can be quite vile. Just be careful when you decide to leave. I am quite serious about pursuing our marriage. I know you won’t get here soon. The Oregon Trail you’ll be taking will be long and hard. I hope you’ll be patient as you have been so far. I promise when you reach here I will do anything to keep you safe  from any danger you might face.

Sincerely,

Matthew

Satisfied with what he had written, he took out a picture of himself and his father from his drawer then placed it in with the letter in another envelope, scribbling the addresses. Hurrying outside, he took both the letters to the mailman, apologizing for making him wait. The mailman shrugged off his apology and thanked him for the tip. Climbing on his horse he tipped his cap then rode off away from the Prairie.

***

6 weeks later

Alice and James slept soundly, their little snores keeping Bethany awake inside the wagon. Drew was awake, his eyes scanning the vast lands passing by. It had been weeks since they had left Lawrence. Bethany had received a letter from Matthew. At first, she couldn’t believe it, thinking it was a hallucination. Then she’d opened it, reading his words that all seemed too good to be true. She had no way of knowing who this man was. She had left her town in the middle of the night with few belongings and the money she had saved. Drew did not make a fuss about leaving as much as the twins did, which was a relief to Bethany. He understood why they were leaving. It would be a wonderful change, she thought. Taking out the picture of the man she would wed, she looked at him and wondered what it would be like living with him. Matthew had sent a picture of him and an older man, who seemed to be his father. They looked quite similar. The only difference was the color of their hair. Matthew’s hair seemed lighter, as though it was blonde while his father’s was darker. He had quite striking features, she observed, blushing at herself for staring at his face every day. Drew had caught her watching it when they first left and had asked who he was. Bethany told him it was someone who was going to marry her, someone who would be his father soon. Ever since then, Drew had been excited to reach Oregon.

The wagon seemed to be slowing down. Bethany thought it must be a stop to get some food and water. Looking out through the window she noticed they weren’t in the middle of a road. They had reached a stretch of land that looked to be a farm. The wagon man shouted from where he sat, “We’re here, madam. This is the French Prairie.”

Bethany woke the twins, who were agitated after having to sleep in the wagon seat for weeks. Drew climbed outside, walking along a path that led to a house in the corner. The fields stretched far and wide, surrounding the house.

Stepping outside with the twins, Bethany walked up the path behind Drew who seemed to be running toward the house.

“Drew, slow down!”

Nearing the house, she saw men working in the fields. One of them walked over toward Drew. Bethany instantly recognized him. It was Matthew. He bent down and ruffled Drew’s hair, talking to him, but his gaze darted from Drew and settled on her and the twins. He was staring at her unabashedly and walked toward her, closing the gap between them. His blonde hair was windswept from working outside. There was sweat on his forehead which he wiped with his sleeve, looking gloriously handsome under the bright sun. He held out his hand and waited for her.

Matthew had been busy guiding his men in the field when he heard the sounds of a wagon nearing the house. Looking at it, he suddenly realized it was her. She’d made it. The six weeks had been tough, waiting for her, constantly staring at her picture in his hand. A young boy ran up the path toward Matthew. He recognized the boy as Drew.

Drew was looking up at him adoringly as he asked, “Are you the man in the picture? You look an awful lot like him.”

Laughing, Matthew said, “I am him. And you must be Drew.”

Bending down, he ruffled his hair as Drew said, “Your farm is beautiful, mister.”

Matthew smiled at his words then looked away as he saw Bethany walking toward them with the twins on each side. He stood up, his feet dragging him toward her as he stared at her blatantly. She was so hauntingly beautiful, he thought. The picture she had sent was probably older as he noticed the woman standing in front of him closely. She looked poised and uninhibited. Her raven black hair seemed unruly in the wind, her lips parting to say something. He held out his hand and waited for her.

Her icy blue eyes travelled from his hand to his face. Her resolve broke, putting her hand in his. Bringing her hand to his lips, he placed a soft kiss and said, “Hello Bethany.”

“Hello Matthew.”

Hearing his name on her lips made his heart skip a beat. He had developed feelings for her, concocting an image of her every night. He was simply infatuated.

He led them inside, watching the twins who seemed in awe of their surroundings. He found himself smiling at Bethany who seemed relieved to see their cheerful faces. He knew in his heart this woman was the one for him.

***

They were wedded later that evening, outside their house with the parson and a few people in attendance. There were his laborers and Fred. Leroy was there. He had sent out a word to the Townsend brothers who came immediately, bringing presents with them.

It was a small and beautiful ceremony. Matthew was wearing a black waistcoat with a crisp white shirt and fitted trousers. Bethany had a simple off-white gown on, with intricate embroidery all over the skirt. She had told him it was something she had designed by herself back in Lawrence before arriving here.

Matthew could not wait for the ceremony to end so he could take Bethany to his room. She looked breathtakingly beautiful as they relayed their vows to each other.

“In the eyes of God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Pulling her close, he held her face in his hands, her eyes looking into his soul. He could feel her breath on his face as his lips captured hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss full of promise and love for the future, a future they would share together, building their family in a place he was proud to finally call his home.

THE END

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Chapter One

“Rise and shine, Angel.”

Turning on the narrow cot as the sounds of the burgeoning passed by, Angelica Webb looked up at the planks that made up the ceiling of her newest home.
Home
. The word didn’t really fit; this was a place where she washed the grit and the grime off after the end of too many long nights and tried to forget. Forget the feel of sweaty hands working their way up her skirt as smoke and scotch coated her neck. She had to stay on her feet until the price was right. The fact that it happened two or three times in the span of a single moon fall had once made her sick to her stomach. But that was so many years ago. Now her body was trained to go numb, and she took her fair share of sips at the saloon. Anything to get to the next day, when everything would repeat itself all over again in a hideous loop.

“Angel! Do I have to ask you twice?”

“No, Sam,” she muttered as she peeled her body away from the stained sheets and stretched her arms over her head. One look at the shattered glass on the wall that served as a mirror told the tale. Blonde with brown eyes and hollowed cheeks, Angelica looked so much older than twenty. Most days she felt ancient and ruined with each blink and each step. Still she stood at the basin and splashed a handful of rancid water against her cheeks. Her lips. They were the one part of her that had somehow stayed soft. The men who toiled in the hills just beyond Caldwell never wanted a kiss. Only for her to lift up her dress so they could use her and get back to the gambling tables. She tied her limp locks in a loose braid behind her back as Sam dragged a small girl with black eyes and even darker hair into the room.

“Sit down and shut up!” he barked. The new arrival looked as if she couldn’t be any older than fifteen. That was around and about the age that she had started, and a part of Angelica longed to take the child into her arms when Sam tossed her a red frock and stamped his foot to the floor covered in shaved wood.

“Angel, this here is Trudy,” Sam started. “She’s fresh off the stage and ready to roll. Well, almost…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he sneered at her dusty floral dress, and the girl rested her knees to her chin as she tucked her legs under her skirt. The force of her trembles vibrated through the room, and Angelica sighed heavily as she took the red garment and slipped to the girl’s side.

“Nice to know you, Trudy,” she said. “Everyone in these parts calls me Angel. Are you okay with that?” The girl’s lip quivered, and her large eyes filled with tears as she shook her head over shoulders.

“I don’t… I’m not supposed to be here,” she whimpered. “Please help me.”

“That’s enough of your lip, girl!” Sam slapped her hard. A thin stream of blood joined the flowers of Trudy’s skirt, and Angelica groaned as she shot to her feet.

“Now why would you do that?” Angelica asked. “Thought you wanted her pretty as a picture for the next round.” Sam laughed and his arm curled around her waist as he bit down on her ear.

“Now that’s my best girl,” he said. “And think of the money I’ll make with two little lovelies at my beck and call!” He practically skipped as he started to leave the room. Angelica longed to scratch the skin from his neck and watch him writhe. But she also didn’t want to be the one that felt the force of his fists. It was a dark dance that still reverberated in her bones, and Angelica merely nodded when he whipped his head over his shoulder to face her.

“Don’t take all day now,” he warned. “Got to keep the customers happy so we get some of their gold in our pockets.”

By
our
he meant
his
. Angelica never saw so much as one coin. She was meant to be grateful for the roofs overhead as they moved from town to town and moldy bread in her belly when he saw fit to feed her. Had she ever eaten anything that hadn’t tasted like death? Maybe in another life. No point in thinking about that now, and she took Trudy by the hand. But the girl would not budge.

“Please,” she begged again. “Can I just tell you what happened?”

“Save it,” Angelica said. “Allow me to fill in the blanks.” She flopped back to the cot, and her eyes turned dark as she looked down the length of her sore legs. “You were a lonely little girl on a rural farm. Your Daddy dreamed of a better life and brought you out west in the hopes of striking it rich.

“My uncle,” Trudy said.

“Makes no difference,” Angelica continued. “But dreaming of gold and staking a claim are two very different things. And pretty soon the man needs to eat. Only thing he has on hand worth anything is a pretty little girl. And there are lots of men like Sam that will take you in. Of course you have to work on your back for his brand of protection. Does that about cover it?”

Trudy burst into tears, and for a split second Angelica felt as if she was looking into a mirror that was not cracked, not covered in grime. How she had wished for someone to wipe her cheeks clean. But now her eyes were too tired to weep, and she could do nothing but ease Trudy to her feet and hold out the red dress.

“You’ll get used to this,” she said. “Trust me on that.”