Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  Books were another one of Sarah's passions. “I had to choose between my books and my paints. Maybe I chose foolishly, but I figured since I'd already read everything I owned...”

  “Makes sense to me,” Hope returned, picking up her full buckets. “Maybe you can stop by and borrow one from my father one day. He wouldn’t mind.”

  The idea of reading something new was vastly appealing.

  They walked side by side, making small talk until they reached the campsite.

  “I'd really like to see it when you're done,” Hope remarked before they parted. “It sounds like fun.”

  Sarah gave her a shy smile. “I hope I don't mess it up,” she replied. “But Mister Lewis said it doesn't matter.”

  A harsh voice interrupted them. “What doesn't matter?”

  Margie appeared very suddenly and stepped between them.

  “Oh, I, uh, was just telling Hope about the hummingbird,” Sarah said softly.

  “I'm sure Miss Riley has better things to do than listen to you natter on about useless things. Isn't that so?” Margie directed the question at Hope who, unlike Sarah, had no qualms about standing up to the older girl.

  “We all have things to do,” she replied evenly. “But it certainly doesn't hurt to enjoy one another's company while we do them.” She turned to Sarah. “Maybe you'll show it to me tonight?”

  Aware of her sister glowering at her, Sarah hesitated. But finally Hope's sincere expression won her over.

  “Sure. Come on by after cleanup.”

  “Oh, my father reads and then prays. How about you come over to our wagon? We'd be glad to have you join us.”

  Ordinarily, the Taylors didn't join the Rileys for their after-dinner devotions. Her parents went to the service Preacher Riley gave on Sundays, but they felt that was enough religion for them.

  “We spend our time after dinner as a family,” Margie interjected before Sarah could answer. “I doubt our parents would be happy to break this tradition.”

  Sarah would have ordinarily agreed, but an encouraging look from Hope made her speak up. “Oh, I'm sure you three can do without me for one evening,” she stated quietly, but resolutely. “I'll ask Mother while we make breakfast.”

  Her mother had no objections to her going, so for the rest of the day, Sarah looked forward to two things: painting the hummingbird and spending time with a new friend.

  3

  After dinner, Sarah went to retrieve the hummingbird from its resting place. However, when she drew it forth, she uttered a cry a distress.

  “The beak is broken,” she moaned, her eyes filling with tears. She noted that her father’s books were next to her box of belongings. “I can't believe I was so careless. It must have bumped up against them during the day.”

  The train had put in nearly fifteen miles that day. Being in such close proximity to the next fort had everyone excited.

  “That's too bad,” her father declared, looking over her shoulder. “That was some fine workmanship.”

  Seeing the poor creature without its majestic beak further dampened her spirits, and Sarah found that she no longer had any desire to spend time with the Riley family. Instead, she just helped her mother reorganize the wagon. It didn't really need it, but it was something to do.

  “I don't know why you wanted to go over there in the first place.” Margie sniffed as she sat outside and watched them. “All they do is sit around and talk about how to be holy and perfect.”

  Sarah didn't answer. There wasn’t any need to defend the family, nor did she have the energy. However, she thought it didn't seem like such a bad idea, learning about how to be better people. The sermons she'd heard in their church back home hadn't really helped her figure that out. Mostly, their preacher had focused on how sinful they all were, not giving them much hope of salvation. His sermons generally ended by having them praise God for His mercy, which she didn't mind doing, but he left them feeling like maggots under a magnifying glass.

  For the longest time, she thought that was how all preachers spoke, but the sermons that Preacher Riley gave were different—encouraging. He talked about how God loved them so much that He not only gave them His Son, but also the Bible so that they could learn more about Him. His prayers were also uplifting and made Sarah wonder about the difference between her old preacher and him. Who was right?

  “Sarah?” a feminine voice called from beside the wagon. “Are you there?”

  When she poked her head out, she saw Hope's concerned face looking up at her. Margie was nowhere to be seen, despite the mini-lecture she’d given Sarah about spending time with the family.

  “Oh, um, yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't come by, but my mother needed my help.”

  It wasn't entirely a lie, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about the broken hummingbird. Even thinking about it caused a prickle at the back of her eyes.

  The concern in Hope's eyes turned to bewilderment. “To do what?”

  “Uh, organize the wagon a little. Things really shifted around during the day today. I guess we moved a little faster than before. Everyone wants to arrive at the fort as early as possible tomorrow.”

  Hope nodded, but didn’t appear convinced. “It'll be nice to rest a little and meet some new people, not to mention stock up on supplies. Captain Holt said the last part of the journey is the hardest. We'll be hiking over some rough terrain, mountains unlike what we've seen, and crossing a very choppy river.”

  The girl shuddered a little at this, and Sarah figured she must be recalling her own encounter with the river where she'd nearly drown. Being saved by Gabriel Morris had secured her affections for the man, as most people in the camp knew.

  Sarah murmured, “I hope it lives up to our expectations.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking about Fort Hall or Willamette Valley, their final destination. Either way, only time would tell.

  The two girls bade each other good night, but Sarah was sure that Hope felt let down. Now she wished she'd gone to the evening ritual. Perhaps she would go tomorrow or the next day. There was no reason to throw away a potential friendship just because she’d been careless.

  In any case, things were going to be different tomorrow. There would be interesting people and things to do at the fort. Pretty much anything would seem interesting after so long on the trail without seeing much of anything. It had been over a month since they'd been at Fort Laramie, which wasn't that much of a trading post compared to what they'd heard about Fort Hall.

  “What were you and Hope talking about?” Margie demanded to know later when they went to bed.

  “Not much,” she replied honestly. “She just wondered why I didn't come over.”

  Margie paused. “What did you say?”

  “The truth. I was helping Mother. Anyway, I'm tired. Good night, Margie.”

  For some reason, her sister wasn't being as aggressive as usual. In fact, since Sarah had decided not to go to the Rileys’ wagon, she’d been almost nice. In any case, she decided not to examine it too much. It was just a relief not to have to fight with her.

  With that grateful thought in her mind, Sarah drifted off to sleep.

  George felt a little disappointed that he hadn't seen Sarah this evening. He’d heard Hope tell his sister that Sarah was going to be visiting them tonight. Against his own better judgment, he decided to join his sister when she went to listen to the nightly devotional. She asked him every night, hopeful that he would accept.

  He had, however, seen Margie briefly. She came over and stood nearby, her eyes scouring the small crowd. When she spotted him, she started to smile, but he looked away quickly and focused more on what the preacher was saying. He liked the man well enough, but he’d always had a problem with zealous Christians. They just seemed too eager in his opinion, and too oblivious about real life, of which he’d experienced more than his fair share.

  “It was a powerful message, don't you think?” Beth asked as they walked back to their campsite. “Preacher John is surely a man o
f God.”

  Not wanting to be discouraging, but also not wanting to engage in a discussion about it, George simple nodded. Beth knew not to push him, and she didn't now.

  “I really liked the passage from James. I think it will be relevant for tomorrow when we get to the fort. I know a lot of men will be tempted to get drunk, but I hope they can resist. They won't feel very good when we have to head out.”

  She was referring to what the preacher had said about temptation and how a man was tempted by his own desires, which brought about sin and eventually, if he were to give in to them, death.

  “Holt said we'll stay two nights to rest.” It wasn't exactly an argument against what she'd said, but George was trying to see things from the men's perspective. He wasn't much of a drinker himself, not after witnessing what alcohol did to a man. He had no desire to sink so low that he couldn’t control himself.

  “Oh, so you think they should engage in debauchery the first night and then recuperate the next day?” Her tone was dangerous, cutting even, and George knew he had to retreat. Things were about to get very personal.

  “I'm just saying that you can't expect a man to deny himself a bit of fun after traveling so long. Anyway, you know that I won't do that.”

  There was a silence between them as they each got lost in their own thoughts, memories from more than fifteen years before. George had thought he'd gotten past all that, but in light of the attraction he was feeling towards Sarah, an old resentment resurfaced.

  Why was he fooling himself about her? He shouldn’t even let himself think about her or any other woman. There was never going to be someone who didn't want to have children, and he—because of the beating he’d endured—wasn't going to be able have any. At least, that was what the doctor had said. Maybe the man was wrong, but George didn't think it was fair to ask any woman to take a chance on him.

  Then along came Sarah with her sweet smile, stirring up feelings in him that he'd thought he was long past. Why was he putting himself through this, looking for her as though there could ever be anything between them? Thankfully, she hadn't shown up tonight after all, saving him embarrassment and grief. He hoped that she didn't talk to him again. Well, she might show him the hummingbird, but he’d force himself to be aloof and even rude so that she wouldn’t want to speak with him anymore.

  The very thought of being nasty to her turned his stomach and he wondered if he’d have the courage when the time came. He hoped so.

  “I guess we should turn in,” Beth declared, disrupting his train of thought. “Oh, you're on guard tonight, aren't you? What shift?”

  It was his turn to do the second worst shift of the night, the third watch, from midnight to two. In some ways, he'd rather have the last one, but the Captain didn't trust anyone besides himself and his assistant to stay awake until four, so he and every other man took turns with this one.

  “Yep. Third watch.”

  “Ugh. I mean, oh.” She gave him a little grin, which he found himself reciprocating. It was no secret between them that she was glad to be a woman and thereby relieved of nightly guard duty. “I'll be sure to have a special breakfast for you tomorrow.”

  “Is that right? Hmm. Didn't think you had anything good left since you used up the last of our dried apples on the Morris brothers.”

  Her grin widened. “Never you mind. If I say I'm going to rustle up something good, you can trust me.”

  Laughing, he nodded. “Alright then. Thanks. Can you leave the rest of the coffee? I'm going to need it.”

  The two of them retired for the night, but George's mind kept going back to Sarah even though he didn't want it to, and a single question reverberated in his head.

  Why hadn't she come?

  Sarah couldn't suppress the urge any longer. She had to go to the bathroom. Quietly and carefully, so as not to wake Margie, she slipped out of the tent and made her way to the long grasses for some privacy.

  “You might want to move a little further down,” came a slightly amused voice from her left.

  Startled, she glanced over and saw George sitting on a rock with a shotgun resting loosely in his arms.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, taking a few steps back. “I didn't see you there! I'm sorry.”

  The moon was full so she was able to see him clearly now that she knew he was there. He tilted his head to the side, a puzzled expression on his face. “You don't need to be sorry.”

  Inexplicably, tears filled her eyes. “But I do. Oh, Mr. Lewis, your beautiful carving... I—I broke it!”

  The need to empty her bladder subsided for the time, and she focused on his face. Would he be very upset with her?

  “I see.” There was a slight pause. “Uh, is that why you didn't go to the meeting?”

  Now it was her turn to be confused. “The meeting? Oh, you mean at the preacher's?”

  It seemed that he regretted his question because he didn't reply right away. He drew in a breath and then let it out. “Yeah.”

  Had he been looking for her? She couldn't very well ask him, so she tried another tactic. “I didn't think you usually went.”

  “Me? Uh, no, I don't. I—I heard from Beth that you were going, and then she said that you didn't. I wondered why.”

  She felt disappointed, but she couldn't very well tell him that. “I suppose that's part of the reason. I was going to show Hope the bird and start painting it. But, well, I guess there's no point now. I don't suppose you can glue it back together?” she asked hopefully.

  “I can do better than that,” he answered. “Wait here...or go and, uh, do your...uh...” He floundered around for the appropriate wording. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

  It was cute how he stumbled, but understandable. She wouldn't feel comfortable talking to someone of the opposite sex about body functions either. Quickly, she took care of her business and then returned to the spot where he'd been sitting. She found him there with something cupped in his hands. When she neared, he opened them to reveal another carving of a hummingbird. She gasped in pleasure. It was in a different pose, its headed tilted up a little as though asking a question, but best of all, it was a calliope, her favorite.

  “It's perfect,” she murmured, reaching out for it. Then she halted her hand. “I can't take it, though. I already broke one.”

  But she wanted it. And if he insisted...

  “I have more,” he said softly. “If you break this one, I can give you another one. It's not like I do anything with them anyway. I just keep making them.”

  “I'll be so much more careful this time,” she promised, thinking to herself of how she would position it in the wagon more securely. “Thank you ever so much.”

  Beth plucked the tiny carving out of his hand, her mind already contemplating the colors she would need to mix to make it realistic. A smile played around her lips as the image took shape. When she looked up to bid George good night, she sucked in her breath. The depth of admiration in his eyes took her so much by surprise that she physically took a step back. When had anyone ever looked at her like that?

  “I—I'd better get back to the tent,” she whispered. “Good night.” Quickly, but mindful of the carving, she turned and raced back.

  He echoed the words to her in a voice deeper and huskier than she remembered, further causing her pulse to quicken and her heart to pound. As she entered the tent, she tucked the tiny creature in the folds of her clothing and placed it in the far corner of the tent, making sure that it was well-protected. Likewise, she took the emotions roiling around deep inside her heart and forced herself to put them away as well. She had no right feeling this way, not when Margie had set her eyes on George.

  She couldn’t do that to her sister, no matter what.

  4

  George was up before the sound of the rifle the next morning. In fact, he barely slept after his shift was over. The look on Sarah's face was firmly etched in his mind. But the problem remained that it was useless to think about it.

  “What's the ma
tter?” his sister mumbled from her side of the tent. “Are you sick?”

  “Shh,” he said gently. “Try to sleep some more.”

  He dressed and left the tent in order to get some fresh air and consider what he should do next, which was probably nothing. The morning was a little chilly, so he quietly built up the fire that Beth would need to make breakfast in less than an hour. After warming himself, he picked up a piece of wood that he'd been working on the night before while waiting to see if Sarah would show up. It was a stretch for him, an animal that would require all the skill he could muster, but it was already coming together nicely. The hardest part to whittle would be the spindly legs. If he didn't get them right, the whole animal would look odd.

  To the untrained eye, it could still be anything, but George could clearly see the majestic stallion that was hiding in the wood. He hoped it would turn out well, and that Sarah would like it.

  His stomach clenched like he'd been punched, and he nearly cursed his stupidity. Why did he insist on deluding himself where she was concerned? He wanted to forget about her, but unless something dire happened, he was destined to see her every day for the next two and a half months.

  Soon, the rifle was shot by Captain Holt, who had relieved him earlier, and people began to stumble out of their tents. George already had coffee on the go, a nice surprise for Beth.

  “Maybe I should put you in charge of coffee every day,” she joked, accepting the cup from his hand. “You're better at making it anyway.”

  He gave her a small grin and nodded. “Going to go help round up the animals,” he informed her. It was part of their daily routine to gather the animals which had been let out to graze overnight. They had brought a couple of cows themselves, and he spent some time looking for them. By the time he got back, Beth had a number of flapjacks ready to eat.

  It was a blessing to have a sister who was such a good cook. He knew that there were many others who couldn't hold a candle to her. It was just one more reason he would be sad to see her go when they reached Oregon. Although she hadn't said so directly, he was fairly certain that she and Michael planned to wed when they got to their destination. The thought was a dismal one for him. He would be completely alone, with no one to care for.