Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  “Think I'm what?” she demanded.

  “They think you’re stuffy. You know, stuck up.”

  Ruby’s shoulders drooped. They did? For one moment, she felt the weight of their disapproval. The reality of the fact that what she thought about the men in town was true. They really didn’t like her. But then her anger bubbled to the surface.

  “If they weren’t so stuck up themselves, I’d consider talking to them.”

  “See, it’s exactly that attitude that comes out when you’re around them. You won’t even give them a chance.”

  “Because they won’t give me one,” she nearly shouted, then clamped her mouth shut. Had she really said that out loud?

  “That’s not true,” Blanche said, her voice small but genuine.

  “But it is,” Ruby said and pushed to her feet, pacing to the window. She’d known it for a long time—ever since the news of her inability to get pregnant had somehow been made public.

  “Oh, Ruby,” Hattie said, coming to stand behind her.

  “I’ll be ready when you want to leave,” was all Ruby said in response.

  Long after her sisters had left, she stood at the window staring out at the street below, lost in thought.

  When they finally left for the dress shop, she had regained some of her composure. She was even able to say she forgave Blanche when her sister apologized. The spirit of their small group escalated greatly as they walked past street vendors, all whom called them ‘pretty ladies,’ and the sweet scent of the bakery down the street.

  At the dress shop, Hattie tried on her dress, to which Ruby and Blanche both oohed and ahhed, and then the girls went to their favorite tea shop to celebrate.

  Sipping strong tea with a sweet scone as an accompaniment, Ruby watched the passersby on the street while Hattie and Blanche argued over what style of hat would be popular in the coming season.

  Distracted from her people watching, Ruby looked down at the tabletop covered with newspapers and magazines. Shuffling through them, her fingers came to rest on one that caught her attention. The title read, Brides Wanted In The West.

  Her pulse picked up and she swallowed the bite of scone she’d just taken. Looking up to make sure that Blanche and Hattie were adequately engaged in their conversation, she covertly folded up the newsprint and slipped it into her satchel.

  Maybe she hadn’t found a man to marry because she was looking in the wrong city.

  Adam sat in church Sunday morning with the sunlight streaming through the small stained glass window that Pastor Timothy Sullivan, a cousin of his, had brought with him from England. It was Adam’s favorite thing to look at during the sermon. It acted as something to focus on while his mind worked through what Timothy preached.

  Today, Timothy spoke on marriage. The minute he’d called out the passage of scripture, Adam had almost groaned out loud. Will, as if sensing his brother’s discomfort, had elbowed him in the side and given him a knowing look.

  Yes. So maybe this was a sign. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Too many men wandered off and did crazy things in the name of God claiming they’d seen a sign. Adam wasn’t about to get married on a whim either.

  Then again, as Timothy spoke of what a blessing holy matrimony was, Adam began to doubt his conviction. Maybe this message was for him?

  Blinking, he drew his attention to the front. This had to be a difficult sermon for Timothy to preach. Timothy had moved to England years ago to be mentored by a great pastor of a prominent English church. While there, he had married a woman he’d fallen in love with. Just before they were to return to America for Timothy to take up a place in his own church, she had died of fever.

  And now he spoke on marriage to a congregation that was composed of a majority of married couples and a few singles interspersed. Timothy’s main point was to draw attention to the fact that marriage blessed both parties and was sometimes more for the image of Christ and the church that it portrayed than the individual’s happiness.

  That seemed strange to Adam. Wasn’t marriage about being happy? You loved a woman so you married her. Then again, he had known Will and Cecelia well enough to see them argue frequently. They hadn’t always felt in love.

  “And that, dear friends, is the true beauty of marriage.” Timothy’s booming voice broke into Adam’s thoughts. “That we as men could be blessed with companionship and women blessed with security. The mysteries of marriage are great, but to one who begins on this venture, they will be blessed. Let us pray.”

  They will be blessed.

  The words echoed in Adam’s mind and made their way down to his heart. To be fully honest with himself, and with God, he wanted that blessing. Not just to be blessed, but to bless a woman. To give her a home and provide security to her. Unlike…

  He couldn’t even bring himself to think it, but he knew that he would make a good husband.

  When the final Amen was sounded, he looked up to find Will staring hard at him.

  “Yes?” he said, quirking an eyebrow at his younger brother.

  “Well? Did he convince you?”

  “Convince—wait a second, you didn’t have anything to do with this subject, did you?”

  “Of course not. I haven’t talked with Timothy in weeks. Speaking of, we should invite him over for dinner soon. Viola has been pestering me.”

  “And me,” Adam admitted. “But what do you mean?”

  “I just mean about what we talked about a few days ago on the porch. You’ve got the bug.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “There is no ‘marriage bug,’ brother, just your addled brain conjuring up things.”

  “Hardly,” Will said.

  Just then, Timothy came up to them, slapping them both on the back and then turning his attention to the child in Will’s arms. “There he is,” he said, leaning in and making faces at Simon. “I’ve missed seeing this one.”

  “He was sick last week,” Will admitted.

  “How are you doing, Will?” Timothy said. His gaze cut to the heart of Will, Adam could tell. Timothy had a way with knowing all about a person, inside and out.

  “As best as can be expected, I suppose.”

  Timothy nodded. “And you, Adam? Did my sermon convince you?”

  Adam blinked. “C-convince me?” he choked.

  Timothy laughed. “You've been a bachelor for far too long.”

  Adam wanted to say that Timothy was one to talk. Though only three years his senior, the thirty-three-year-old hadn’t courted a woman since his late wife’s death five years ago.

  “Suppose that’s true, what would you have me do about it?” Adam challenged.

  Timothy rubbed his chin. “Oh, I don’t know. Try the matrimony journal?”

  “The-the what?” he said looking between the pastor and his brother.

  “Now there’s an idea,” Will said, nodding slowly.

  “What in the world are you two talking about?”

  “Why didn’t I think of that before?” Will said, looking at Timothy and bobbing up and down to keep Simon quiet.

  “Hello? Can someone please tell the single guy what in the world they’re talking about?”

  Timothy and Will laughed and then Timothy dropped his hand heavily onto Adam’s shoulder. “It’s a periodical of sorts where men from the west can advertise for brides from the east.”

  “You’re joking? An advertisement?”

  Timothy shrugged. “There are plenty of men out here in the west and plenty of women in the east. How else will they merge if they don’t have a little help?”

  “Doesn’t God arrange things like that?” Adam said, unable to keep his smile at bay.

  “He does,” Timothy agreed. “But sometimes, He uses other means.”

  “I see how that could be helpful. Maybe I’ll give it a try.” Adam took in a deep breath and looked at Will, who had been silent for too long. “What is it, little brother?”

  “I was just thinking…if you are going to write to a woman in the east, you might want to
work on your penmanship.”

  4

  Ruby’s hand shook as she opened the first letter she’d received in reply to her response to the advertisement. Ever since she’d picked up the first matrimonial journal she’d seen at the tea shop, she’d found ways to sneak new copies of it each week. After four weeks of sneaking around and hiding the papers from her ever-inquisitive sisters, she’d come across an advertisement that caused her to step away from her fear and into action.

  Even now, looking down at the bold hand that had scrawled her name across the front of the envelope, she could hardly believe she was doing this. Was she really striking up a conversation with a man in Colorado? Had she lost her mind?

  But thoughts of that night’s party haunted her. If the men in town thought her snobbish, then she had no other choice. It was either she embraced the life of a spinster or seek a husband elsewhere.

  Shaking, she slipped her finger under the edge of the paper and tore it open. One sheet of paper fluttered out and she picked it up quickly, checking again to see that the door was closed. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened it and read.

  The grammar was passable but the handwriting was terrible. So bad that it made her squint and bring the paper nearly to her nose, but by the end of the short note, she couldn’t help but smile.

  Adam Sullivan was a complete gentleman.

  She sighed and leaned back, looking out the window. He had kept things short and to the point, but by the end of the letter, she already knew she wanted to write to him again. This time she would talk more about herself and hope that he wrote her again. Only time would tell, though.

  She frowned and looked at the note. If things went the way she hoped they would, if they continued to talk, she would have to tell him the truth. She would have to tell him she couldn’t have children.

  Even the thought of it made her sick to her stomach. It was one thing to have a connection with someone, but another for them to care about you unconditionally. Most men wanted to get married to have children, to carry on their legacy, and she was sure that Adam was no different.

  A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. Hurriedly folding up the letter, she stuffed it beneath her dress and called for the person to enter.

  “There you are,” Hattie said, coming in and looking flustered. “I’ve dreadful news.”

  “What is it?” Ruby said, thoughts of her own dilemma slipping into the background.

  “I believe Edmond is going to ask me for a carriage ride.”

  Ruby blinked. “Wait. Weren’t you telling me just the other day how you hoped he would ask you?”

  “Yes, but…now things have changed.”

  “In what way?”

  “I heard Blanche talking about…about Edmond.”

  “Blanche is always talking about boys, Hattie. You must stop listening to her nonsense.”

  “But what if she does fancy him and I accept and it becomes a big old mess?” Hattie nearly burst into tears, her forehead crinkling with effort to keep them at bay.

  Poor Hattie. She always considered everyone else before herself.

  “Hattie, dear,” Ruby said, patting her sister’s hand lightly, “You must consider your own happiness at times as well. I don’t think Blanche has shown Edmond any more attention than she’s shown a handful of other gentlemen, right?”

  Hattie’s face scrunched up in thought. “I suppose not. She is rather flirty at times, isn’t she?”

  Ruby smiled. “Exactly. If you’re afraid of stepping on her toes then ask her, but I don’t think you’d be out of order to take him up on his invitation. Go. Have a good time.”

  Hattie frowned, biting her lip. “I suppose you may be right.”

  “Right about what?” Morgana said, bursting into the room as she was known to do.

  “A bit of advice Ruby was giving me, that is all, mother.”

  “Is it about that fellow inquiring to take you on a carriage ride?”

  Hattie’s cheeks instantly turned pink. “Y-yes, Mother.”

  “Go. And good grief, don’t be so shy around him.”

  Ruby watched as Morgana bustled about the room and wound up at the armoire where she threw open the doors. “I’ve got to help you pick out a dress Ruby. You’re coming to a luncheon with me on Sunday afternoon.”

  Ruby barely contained her groan. “Oh, please, Mother, don’t make me come again.”

  Her mother came toward the girls sitting on the window bench and planted her fists on her rounded hips. “If you are bound and determined to outdo me as an old maid, then you’d better reconcile yourself to Sunday luncheons and afternoon teas, young lady. Either that or, like Hattie here, take a young man up on an offer of a cartridge ride. Do something—anything—to get yourself out into the public eye.”

  Ruby prayed for patience. “Mother, I—”

  “No, I won’t hear it,” she said, turning around to look in the armoire again. “I think it’s fear,” came her mother’s next comment, muffled by dresses of all colors nearly pouring out.

  “Mother, what are you talking about?”

  “Ah ha!” she said, turning around with a triumphant smile on her face, a deep burgundy dress clutched in her hands.

  “I haven’t a clue what you’re saying.”

  “Dear,” she said, her tone softening as she laid the dress out on the bed, smoothing away any wrinkles she saw. “Love is a frightening thing.” She turned toward both girls with a sad smile. “It takes risk. There is risk in every good thing. I think you’re afraid to risk.” Then, as if snapped from a dream, Morgana blinked and looked back at the girls. “Now, be ready and in that gown by tomorrow afternoon.”

  With that, she sailed out of the room but her words, more powerful than Ruby had anticipated, still hung in the air.

  “Welcome,” Adam said, holding the door open for his cousin to come inside.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Timothy said, his grin growing wider by the minute. “Haven’t been out to the ranch in a long time. You’ve done wonders with this place, Adam.”

  Adam returned his cousin’s smile. “Thank you. It takes a lot of work but it’s worth it.”

  They walked through the house to the sitting room where Will sat on the floor, Simon on a blanket in front of him.

  “Howdy, cousin.”

  “Timothy,” Will said, standing up to shake his hand. “Good to see you. Just spending some time with Simon here.”

  “I can see that.” Timothy knelt down and held a rag toy above the boy’s head. “He’s getting big.”

  “All time passes more quickly when you have children,” Will said.

  Adam felt the words more deeply than his brother meant to say them. Just because Will could see time pass on the planes of his son’s face didn’t mean that Adam didn’t notice its passage as well. Then again, that wasn’t what his brother was implying.

  “Dinner is served, fellows,” came a soft, motherly voice from the doorway.

  All three men turned to see the housekeeper and cook, Viola, standing with a wooden spoon in one hand and a grin on her lined face.

  “Great!” Will said, laughing. “I’m starved.”

  She shook her head and the men followed her to the kitchen. Adam watched as Will placed Simon in his crib that stayed in the kitchen area for the times when Viola graciously offered to watch him. Once Timothy had said the blessing, they all sat down to eat.

  The conversation covered various topics from updates about the ranch to news of new parishioners and Timothy’s ever-demanding job. Adam wanted to listen, but the presence of his family gathered here drew a sharp distinction between what he wanted his life to look like and what it looked like now. It wasn’t that he was unhappy living here on the ranch with Will, but he was beginning to feel like there could be things he was missing out on.

  He passed the basket of rolls as the truth dawned on him. It was more his letters with sweet Ruby Walker that were drawing his thoughts elsewhere tonight. Just that day he�
�d received one and taken it out to his favorite spot where the stream ran into the pond. Sitting there, with the light breeze blowing through the trees overhead and the sweet scent of hay from the pasture to the west, he’d enjoyed reading all about her life in Boston.

  She was a fantastic writer and had an amazing ability to describe things in a way that made him all but see them. He lived for the days when he got a letter from her.

  But that had also brought other feelings to the surface. Thoughts from the past and realizations about what he wanted—or thought he wanted—for the future.

  “Adam?”

  He jerked back to the present when Will nudged him and said his name.

  “I think we lost you there for a bit. What’s going on?”

  Adam cleared his throat and looked down at his food. It remained untouched on his plate. How often had he found himself daydreaming since he’d started writing to Ruby?

  “It’s, uh, nothing.”

  “It’s not right to lie to a pastor,” Timothy said. His face remained stern for a moment before he burst into a laugh. “In all seriousness though, what’s on your mind? Because it’s obviously something.”

  Adam ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the scruff there. Would Ruby like him clean shaven or— He blinked. He was doing it again. His mind was stuck on this woman.

  “There’s a…” He hesitated. “A woman.”

  “I knew it,” Will said.

  Adam gave him a look that said, No, you didn’t.

  “What? I did. You’ve been acting funny for the last few weeks.”

  He had?

  “Tell us about her. Is she a mail order bride?”

  Adam took in a deep breath. There was no getting out of this one. “Yes. Well, that’s how we started communicating. She saw an advertisement I put in the paper.”

  “You didn’t even tell me.” Will looked hurt.

  “I’m sorry.” Adam felt bad, but he hadn’t wanted to draw in a lot of people on this, especially if he wasn’t certain it would go anywhere. “I just wasn’t sure…what would happen, I suppose.”

  “But that’s changed now?” Timothy prodded.