A Bride to Heal His Broken Heart

by Melynda Carlyle

  Several wooden rocking chairs sat on one side of the large porch, but it was the lone figure standing at the railing and looking out who caught and kept her attention. From this distance she could see the man had dark hair. He was taller than she was, and she couldn’t see his features, but she was sure they were pleasant to look at.

  The man was dressed as a cowboy, though devoid of any sort of head covering. Most of the men she’d seen in town had been wearing cowboy hats, but the man on the veranda was holding a hat in his hands. He didn’t immediately turn when he heard the wagon arrive. Lorna watched the man, anxious for her first glimpse of his face.

  When the wagon came to a halt, her heart skipped a beat as she gazed upon the man who was going to be her husband. Her tiredness evaporated in the face of this exciting moment. A second man came out of the house and joined the man on the veranda.

  When the newcomer turned toward the wagon, Lorna held her breath. Time stood still as she waited for him to turn around. I hope he’s not disappointed when he meets me.

  Chapter 2

  Darren Wilson clutched his brother’s favorite Stetson hat, forcing his fingers to relax before he crushed the brim beyond repair. He stared out at the horizon, his thoughts morose and filled with so many questions that didn’t have logical answers.

  The sun was beginning to set, the sky turning a myriad of colors ranging from red to light pink. Darkness was closing in on the ranch and with it, a grief Darren found hard to contain. In the distance, the lonely howl of a coyote seemed to echo the bleakness of the moment.

  Never again would he see Mark’s grin from beneath his hat. Never again would he hear Mark’s contagious laugh ring out over the landscape. No more competitions to see who could brand the most calves in a short amount of time. No more jokes or teasing from the man he’d been privileged to call his brother. All of that was gone now.

  A lump formed in Darren’s throat and he swallowed convulsively, refusing to give way to the tears that threatened to spill forth. He was afraid that if he gave into the first tear, he’d never be able to stop crying. He’d lost too much in such a short amount of time.

  The front door opened and his father, Brian Wilson, stepped out, joining him at the railing and placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

  Darren glanced at the older man and then shook his head. “I’m so sorry…”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

  “If only—” Darren began, only to have his father shake his head.

  “Darren, you need to stop this. It wasn’t your fault. Mark’s death is not something you could have prevented.”

  “You sound so sure,” Darren murmured.

  “I am. We both know who’s at fault here, and it’s not you.”

  Darren went silent, sighing deeply as he looked at the crease along the brim of the hat in his hands. He recalled when Mark had put that crease there, trying to ride an unbroken horse. He’d been thrown from the horse’s back and his hat had come off and gotten crushed.

  Sorrow ate away at Darren’s insides, making his stomach churn and casting a dark cloud over the entire world as he contemplated what life was going to be like now that Mark was gone.

  Darren heard the wagon approach and sensed Brian turn toward it. “Wagon’s back.”

  Darren nodded and then turned around, frowning when he realized that Ethan and June had indeed returned, but they had brought someone with them – a young woman, who seemed to be staring directly at him.

  “Who is that?” he quietly asked Brian. “Ethan and June should have known better than to bring back any houseguests from town.”

  “I’m sure they’ve got a good reason. I’ve never seen her before. They went into town to pick up the supplies and set things in motion for your brother’s…” Brian broke off and then paused for a moment before continuing. “Well, bringing back a houseguest wasn’t on their list of things to accomplish. Best we go see who she is.”

  “No need.” Darren nodded toward the wagon, where Ethan, his best friend aside from his brother, had climbed down and was approaching the house.

  “Darren. Brian.”

  “You made good time,” Brian greeted him. “Any problems in town?”

  “The outlaws rode through town shooting the air, but they rode out just as fast.”

  “And the sheriff did nothing?” Brian asked, disgust evident in his voice.

  “Never saw him come out of the office,” Ethan confirmed.

  “Looks like you found more than supplies in town,” Darren commented, his gaze still fixed on the wagon.

  “Yeah. We found something, or should I say, someone in town who appears to belong here.”

  Darren frowned and shook his head. “Explain that last statement because you’re not making any sort of sense.”

  “Ethan, are you going to help me down?” June called to him.

  “Coming.”

  “I’ll help,” Darren offered, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Ethan’s upheld hand. “What?”

  “You should know, the young woman claims to be Mark’s mail-order bride.”

  “What?” Darren reared back, shock causing his mouth to hang open for a brief moment before he composed himself and slammed his jaw shut. He turned to stare at the woman in question, so many thoughts and emotions moving through him that he couldn’t focus on just one. Surprise. Sorrow. Disbelief. Mail-order bride? What in the…?

  “Yes, mail-order bride. She said Mark sent for her,” Ethan told him.

  Darren turned to his father, demanding, “Did you know about this?”

  Brian slowly shook his head. “Mark never mentioned a word to me. I didn’t even know he was corresponding with anyone. How could he possibly have sent for a bride and not tell anyone? Was he just going to surprise us all by going into town and returning a married man?”

  Ethan nodded and then commented slowly, “That appears to have been his plan. He was supposed to meet her at the train station today when she arrived. From what I gathered of her conversation with June, they were supposed to have been married before leaving town and heading for the ranch.”

  “Well, this is a fine mess,” Brian commented. “Now what?” he asked, turning to make sure Darren knew the question was directed at him.

  Darren didn’t have an answer. He had a major problem on his hands: a woman who had arrived in Virginia City from God only knew how far away, intending to meet a man no longer capable of becoming her husband, was sitting in the wagon completely unaware of how her future had just changed.

  As Mark’s brother and the man now responsible for ensuring that everything on the ranch worked perfectly, Darren knew her arrival was his problem to solve. Mark, what did you do?

  * * *

  Something was wrong. Lorna could feel it, and based on the length of time Ethan was spending talking to the occupants of the veranda, it seemed the problem wasn’t minor in nature.

  She had a very bad feeling as all three men turned to stare at her. A million thoughts rushed through her mind. Has Mark changed his mind? Was he not truly expecting me to use the train ticket? If he doesn’t want me here, what am I going to do?

  She forced her dire thoughts to quiet down as Ethan and the man on the veranda strode back toward the wagon. She watched the tall man, seeing his hair was actually jet-black and not the dark brown he’d written her about.

  When the man was only a few feet away from the wagon, she trained her eyes on his face, finding herself staring down into the most gorgeous set of deep brown eyes she’d ever seen. Brown eyes? A little alarm went off in her head, but she was too busy watching the handsome man to pay it much attention.

  As quick as their eyes met, the man looked away, leaving even more doubts running through Lorna’s head.

  “Lorna, this is Darren Wilson.”

  Darren? Not Mark? Lorna hid her momentary sadness that this man wasn’t the man she’d come here to marry. Mark had briefly mentioned in his correspondence that he had a younger bro
ther, and she felt guilty for having admired his good looks a few moments earlier.

  “Good afternoon,” Darren said, refusing to look up and meet her eyes.

  “Good day, sir,” she murmured, still feeling as if something was terribly wrong.

  Lorna watched Ethan help June down from the wagon and then turned her attention back to Darren as he cleared his throat and started to speak. “I’m sorry to inform you that Mark was shot and killed by outlaws yesterday.”

  Wait! What? “I…I’m sorry, did you just say that Mark….” An overwhelming sense of panic gripped her as the reality of those words settled deep in her soul. She glanced over at June, who sadly nodded her head, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

  Lorna’s pulse began to race. She felt hot all over as stress moved over her body. She had made the long journey West and it had all been for naught. Her vision grew dark and started to narrow and she reached out blindly for the sideboard of the wagon, only to feel herself tumbling down a deep, dark tunnel.

  The last thing she saw as the world began to blur was the dark gaze of the cowboy, once more turned in her direction, filled with hurt and sadness. Then the world went black.

  Chapter 3

  Lorna was awakened by a beam of light shining on her face. She tried turning her head away, but the light persisted. She slowly blinked her eyes open, raising a hand up to shield her eyes as they adjusted to the light filtering through the small window directly opposite her. Window?

  She closed her eyes once more, trying to remember what had happened. She recalled getting on a train several days earlier, and she recalled arriving in Virginia City, Nevada, but beyond that, her memory was fuzzy. She had a feeling that something was terribly wrong, but she didn’t feel ill or injured. She couldn’t seem to make sense of the pictures in her head.

  Dark brown eyes. A crumpled cowboy hat. Outlaws shooting their guns into the air.

  She opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings, realizing she was in a bedroom – an unfamiliar bedroom. She tried to recall how she’d gotten there.

  She turned her head and realized the room was mostly bare except for a small chest of drawers with a washbasin and pitcher resting on it and a wooden wardrobe in the opposite corner.

  The sound of shoes on the floorboards had her turning her head to watch as an older woman walked into the bedroom. She was carrying a black dress and she took it to the wardrobe in the corner and hung it up. Lorna knew she’d met the woman before, but it was a moment before she could recall her name. June. June Wilson. Mark’s aunt.

  Lorna cleared her throat and June turned and smiled at her. “Welcome back,” June said. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

  “What happened? Where am I?” Lorna looked down and realized she was in her own nightdress; she felt her face heat as she wondered how she’d come to be so attired. “This is mine?” she questioned softly, wanting confirmation that she was seeing things clearly.

  “What happened is you fainted. Yesterday. As for where you are, you’re at the Wilson ranch. I figured you’d rest more comfortably out of your dress and found that nightdress amongst your things. Your stockings and shoes are here as well.”

  Yesterday? “Uhm…I fainted? I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”

  “Well, you fainted dead away yesterday. I’m not surprised. You had quite a shock. I’m glad to see some color back in your cheeks. You’re probably hungry. I’ll go fetch you some breakfast.” June turned and left the room, leaving Lorna alone to process what had just been said.

  Lorna’s eyes fell upon the black dress hanging inside the wardrobe and she was transported back to the last time she’d worn a similarly colored dress – mourning her father’s death. Memories assailed her and she gave way to them for a moment.

  Her father had been so brave. When the American states had gone to war with one another, those living along the northern border had joined the fighting, wanting to protect their way of life as much as possible.

  The Civil War had been fierce, even that far north, and the native Indians had been amongst those men her father and the other Union soldiers were fighting. Thousands of others from the northern regions had joined in the fighting and she’d followed along, leaving her home in Nova Scotia and heading directly into the areas where the fighting was the fiercest.

  She’d wanted to help so badly, and while it had been quite a struggle to find a place amongst the soldiers where she could offer some sort of help, she’d finally found a place in a tent hospital. Things had been going well until her father was brought in with a lethal arrow sticking from his abdomen.

  Lorna’s train of thought was disrupted by June’s return with a tray of food. Lorna sniffed appreciatively, her stomach growling loudly as she was reminded how long it had been since she’d eaten a decent meal.

  “Here you go.” June settled the tray over her lap once Lorna sat back against the headboard.

  “Thank you,” Lorna said. The tray included a bowl of what smelled like oatmeal, a small glass of milk, and a delicious-looking biscuit.

  June smiled and then nodded toward the dress. “Once you’ve finished eating you can freshen up. I’ve already placed fresh water in the pitcher. If you need help getting dressed, just holler.”

  Lorna frowned when June nodded at the black dress. She turned back to June with a confused look upon her face. “You want me to wear that?”

  June nodded, her smile fading away. “Yes, I didn’t see anything appropriate amongst your things, so I’ve let out the hem on one of mine. You’re a wee bit taller so it should fit fine now. We’ll be leaving in a few hours for Mark’s funeral.”

  Mark’s funeral. The man she’d come here to marry was dead. Oh, Lord! No wonder I fainted. And they want me to…

  Lorna shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right for me to attend. I’ve already overstayed my welcome and caused enough trouble for you all. If I could just get back to town…”

  June’s face saddened. “You are now part of this family and Mark would have wanted you at the funeral. After all, he would have been your husband this very moment if he’d lived a day or two longer.”

  Lorna shifted uncomfortably on the bed and then nodded. “Of course, I’ll attend.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  June nodded and took a step back toward the bed. “Two nights ago, several of the cattle went missing. We knew there were rustlers in the area and Darren insisted they go out after them to see if they could find the missing cattle and put a stop to the thefts.”

  “Darren is Mark’s brother?” Lorna asked for clarification.

  “Yes. Mark warned him that what he was suggesting was very dangerous, but Darren insisted they needed to act quickly.”

  “So, they went out in the dark?” Lorna filled in.

  “Yes. They stumbled across an outlaw gang who were following a map, trying to find gold they had buried somewhere around here. Mark tried to reason with them, but things didn’t turn out quite like he planned. The outlaws were upset that the boys had seen them and one of them drew a gun on Darren, intending to shoot him.

  “Mark reacted and pushed Darren out of the way; however, he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the bullet himself. It hit him squarely in the chest,” June finished speaking, tears streaming down her face. “He died a short time later.”

  Lorna reached out and pulled the older woman down to sit upon the mattress and then hugged her close. “I’m so sorry.”

  June nodded. “He was a wonderful man and so young.” June cried quietly as Lorna tried to comfort her. “It was so senseless. And Brian…it was hard when he lost Ginny, his late wife. She’d been sick for a while and you could see it coming. Her death, I mean. But this…” June tried to compose herself, but the grief was too raw and too new. She cried out and shook her head despondently. “Mark’s death didn’t need to happen…Darren blames himself, you know.”

  “Because Mark saved him,” Lorna whispered. That would e
xplain the look she’d seen in Darren’s eyes. It was more than just ordinary sorrow; she now knew it was sorrow laced with a healthy dose of guilt.

  June nodded and continued to cry for several minutes while Lorna offered her comfort. When noises from beyond the bedroom drew their attention, June straightened and used her apron to wipe her face free of tears. “Now you know what happened.”

  “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “And yours. Mark was a remarkable man and would have made an excellent husband,” June told her sadly. “Come find me once you’re dressed.”

  Lorna nodded and then watched as the woman left the room. She turned her attention to the dress. She needed to attend the funeral of the man she’d been planning to marry but would never meet. It was all so terribly wrong, but nothing could be done to fix this situation. Death was final, as Lorna knew all too well.