Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  He envied the man on several levels. Firstly, he had no family that he could claim, at least no close relatives. There might have been a great aunt or something east of Kansas, but being the only child of a single mother whose family wanted nothing to do with her had made for a lonely childhood. From a very early age, he learned not to ask his mother about family, and that included his father. However, he was clever enough to figure out that she had become in the family way and his father hadn’t married her.

  The two of them had lived in poverty for many years. Nellie Rutger had worked three jobs just to put food in his belly, a roof over his head, and thin clothes on his back. He still might have been happy enough, as many poor children were, but the lack of joy in their small apartment had drained any possibility. They merely existed side by side until one day, when he was sixteen, she just disappeared. Tom suspected that she'd been biding her time until he was of an age to support himself. One month after he'd gotten a full-time job at a grocer, he'd come home to find the apartment empty, her meager clothes missing, and a few coins on the table along with a note saying that rent had been paid until the end of the month.

  In that moment, Tom had felt utter despair. For two days, he'd just sat around the apartment staring at the walls and wondering what it was that had made his mother so unable to love him. Finally, a knock on the door had roused him out of his pity. When he answered it, the manager of the building was standing there with an eviction paper and a few bills in his hand.

  “Can't allow you to live here on your own, son,” he said grimly. “Hate to kick you out, but it's my job if the owner finds out. You understand.”

  He did understand, but the act of being thrown out of the only home he'd ever known had done more to energize him than anything else. He could go anywhere, do anything.

  He managed to get a second job and an apartment on the other side of town. He lied to the building manager and said he was eighteen. He was tall enough and broad enough, so the man hadn’t questioned him. The apartment wasn’t any better than the one he'd left, but at least he had somewhere to live.

  For nearly nine years, he had worked fourteen hours a day at two underpaying jobs until he met Jeremiah Holt at the blacksmith where he'd been taken on. He would never be able to afford the apprentice fee, but he did all the cleaning and whatnot. Between that and his job at the grocer, he’d earned himself a decent wage. It wasn't a bad living.

  However, Jeremiah's job seemed like a dream to him, and he'd asked the man if he could use an assistant. It would only cost him the price of his living, food, and clothing, and Jeremiah had agreed.

  Now, he'd made this trip twice with Captain Holt and knew the route well enough, but sometimes, the rocks and trees could look the same. Still, he knew they were going the right way because of the sun and the river.

  As he watched the group set up camp for the evening, a tremendous sense of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders, and he began to doubt himself, not for the first time. He was sure the others would be surprised to know how he felt, given that he exuded an aura of confidence, which was a front he'd assumed long ago when he'd decided to create a new life for himself. Until now, he'd had no real reason to doubt himself since all he’d done was help Captain Holt, but seeing so many people depending on him shook him.

  “You been here before?” someone asked him. Turning around, he saw George Lewis, a quiet, but respectable man whom Tom had been able to count on for helping with river crossings and whatnot.

  “Here? Uh, yeah, but I've never camped in this exact spot.”

  The last part was definitely true, but the first part...he wasn't sure. It wasn't exactly a lie, but he just couldn't remember. He must have passed by this part of the trail in his last two trips, but he hadn't taken special note of it because they hadn't stopped. Still, he decided to take a look at his journal later to see if he could identify the area.

  Along with other various drawings, Tom sketched each area where they'd stopped. It wasn't the same every time, but he thought maybe he could figure it out.

  “It's nice here,” George continued, seemingly unaware of his captain’s discomfort. “Good place for fishing.”

  The other men must have thought the same because several of them were pulling rods out of their wagons. As Tom turned to the river, he saw some fish jumping out, a sight which jogged his memory. In five long strides, he was back at his wagon and pulling out his journal. Flipping through the pages, he found what he was looking for: a sketch he'd done of this same sight.

  “We can't be too far from the camp where we stopped last year this time,” he murmured to himself. Feeling a little better about the situation, he began whistling, a habit he'd picked up when he was young and working in the blacksmith shop. The days had been lonely, and he found he could pick up almost any tune without much effort. It had proven to be a source of entertainment for him and his employer, but he noticed that he only did it now when he was feeling good.

  After fetching his fishing gear, he headed down to the river to catch himself some dinner.

  Lily had her three younger brothers collect any sticks they could find, and if there were none, buffalo chips for the fire. She'd sent the older two to fish while she set about preparing for dinner. She went to the wagon to retrieve the Dutch oven, and even though she tried to be careful, she woke her mother.

  “We're stopped?” she said groggily. “What time is it?”

  “It's only about three, but Doctor Taylor told Captain Rutger that it would be good to camp now. I'm going to make some rice and then fry some fish. That'll be good for dinner, don't you think?”

  The woman nodded slightly, but Lily thought she seemed a little more lethargic than usual.

  “Are you feeling alright, Mama?” she asked worriedly. “Shall I fetch Doctor Taylor for you?”

  Constance shook her head. “I'm sure he's busy with the others,” she murmured. “I don't want to bother him. Just get your father for me. He'll know what to do.”

  Alarm trickled through Lily.

  “Father isn't with us, Mama. Don't you remember?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

  “He's a good man, Lily. I know it's hard to see, but believe me, dear. He loves you.”

  Lily noticed that her mother's brow was damp, and although that might be expected in this heat, she reached and laid a hand on her cheek. She drew back in shock at the intense heat. Adding to that, her mother's breathing was rapid and shallow. Surely this warranted a visit from the doctor.

  In a flash, she was out of the wagon and running across the camp, her skirts flying out behind her without care for how undignified she looked.

  “Lily!” a voice called out. “What's the matter?”

  She turned to see Tom Rutger staring at her. He was clearly on his way to the river, but now he dropped all of his fishing gear and strode towards her.

  “Oh, Tom,” she cried, forgetting to use his title. “My mother...she's...I don't know. She’s not well!”

  “The doctor is over there, fishing with his boys,” he replied, his brow pulled low. “Go back to your mother. I'll get him.”

  After a split-second's hesitation, she nodded and fled back to her wagon, and Tom ran towards the river.

  When she entered the wagon again, her mother was moaning softly and twisting.

  “Eugene? Is that you? Oh, Eugene, I hate to complain, but I feel just terrible.”

  Lily knelt down and took her mother's hand. Her skin was so hot to the touch that she nearly wept. Instinctively, she put a wet cloth over her mother’s brow.

  “It's okay, Mama. The doctor is on his way. It'll be fine. You just need to take some deep breaths.”

  “How long has she been like this?” Doctor Taylor asked the very moment he climbed into the wagon.

  “I don't know,” she whimpered. “I found her this way about ten minutes ago.”

  Both Lily and Tom watched the doctor take a long wooden instrument out of his bag and press one end to Con
stance's chest and put his ear on the other. He looked at his pocket-watch and frowned.

  “It's much too fast, as is her breathing. Has she said anything?”

  Lily could hardly talk. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

  “She's been calling my father,” she finally managed to say. “But she knows that he isn't with us. Oh, Doctor Taylor, what's happening?”

  He shook his head and didn't reply. “Captain Rutger, I need to examine her,” he said, not even looking up. Tom seemed to get the hint and dropped the flap of the wagon.

  “Let me know if I can do anything,” he said from just outside.

  Carefully, respectfully, the doctor lifted up her skirt to examine the injury Constance had sustained during the rockslide.

  “I don't like the look of this,” he mumbled as he removed the bandage. Even from where she sat, Lily could tell that the wound seemed to be infected. The doctor turned his head toward the back of the wagon. “Go to my wagon and ask my wife for garlic, potato, honey, and onion, Captain.” Then he turned to Lily. “Do you have any very warm water that's been boiled?”

  She shook her head. Her brothers hadn’t returned from their errand, so she hadn't started the fire.

  “Go see if anyone else has any. Do you have any clean cloths?” With trembling hands, she pulled one out from the crate and handed it to him, but he didn't take it. “Go dip it in any warm or hot boiled water and bring it back to me. Is this pot clean?” He pointed to a small pot in another crate.

  Lily nodded, and he pulled it out.

  “Use this to bring it back.”

  Jumping down from the wagon with the cloth and pot, Lily raced to do his bidding, her eyes filling with tears as she went from one campsite to another in search of hot water.

  Sarah Lewis had started her dinner and poured some of the hot water into the Lily's pan.

  “Let me know what else I can do,” she said earnestly. “We'll be praying for her.”

  Lily nodded, unable to speak her gratitude or her fears.

  By the time she returned to the wagon, the doctor was already mashing up garlic, potatoes, and onion that Tom had brought. She took over the chore and handed him the pot.

  “Let's pray that it's not too late,” he mumbled as he wrung out the cloth and filled it with the ingredients. “This poultice should draw out the infection, but first I need to put that honey on it.”

  Feeling sick, Lily watched the doctor pull back the bandage and liberally apply honey to the gash on her mother's leg. How had she not noticed the odor before now? Gagging, she jumped down from the wagon and ran in the opposite direction. She didn’t want her mother to see her being sick.

  “Lily! Wait!”

  But she couldn’t. Shame flooded her as the man approached the place where she’d just vomited into the shrubs.

  Tom was beside her, a concerned look on his face.

  “Can I do something for you?” he murmured.

  “Oh, Tom...Captain Rutger, I mean. How could I have been so careless? I let my mother's wound get infected, and now she might die!”

  The doctor hadn't said so outright, but she knew the situation was precarious.

  “What did he say?” he asked gently, drawing a little closer but not touching her.

  “It's my fault.”

  “He said that it's your fault?” His voice was tinged with disbelief.

  She shook her head. “No, no, but it is. I wasn't taking good care of her. I should have noticed yesterday...”

  Crumpling to the ground, Lily began to sob. She was aware of Tom's presence beside her, but he didn't touch her.

  “Do you, uh, want me to get one of the other women? I'm sure one of them would come.”

  Again, she shook her head. “I—I don't want anyone to see me like this. I couldn't bear it.”

  He didn't reply, nor move away like she thought he might, but continued to sit beside her.

  After a few minutes, she was able to compose herself.

  “You don't need to stay with me, Captain,” she managed to say between shaky breaths. “I think you were going fishing, weren't you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He looked over his shoulder toward the river where a few men were fishing and completely oblivious to them. “Well, I guess I'll go down to the river and see what I can catch. If I find Matthew and Mark, I'll make sure they bring back enough to feed you all.”

  She swallowed hard and pressed her lips together in an effort to control herself. His kindness made her heart swell in a different way.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Tell them I'll be right along. And if you see Luke, John, or Andrew, tell them the same, would you?”

  Lily looked up and caught the briefest of grins passing over his face.

  “Pretty easy to remember your brother's names, isn't it?”

  In spite of herself, Lily huffed out a tiny laugh. “Yes, I suppose. But Andrew feels left out, not being named after one of the gospels.”

  “Ah, well, at least he was named after a disciple.”

  The conversation distracted her a little, and she looked up at him curiously. “Were you also named after the disciple?”

  He looked away, a little uncomfortable now. “I don't think so. My mother wasn't what you'd call a very religious woman.”

  “Oh.” She wasn't sure what to say to that. Wiping her tears away, she got up and sniffled. “I'd better get back. You'll look out for my brothers? I don’t want them getting into mischief. If they do, please send them to me right away.”

  Nodding, he gave her a half-smile. “They're not much trouble compared to the other boys. I don't expect you have a lot of problems with them.”

  That was true, but she still worried.

  “Thank you for your help,” she replied. “I don't know what I'll do if Mother...”

  She couldn't even say the words.

  “Don't you worry about that, Miss Lily. This wagon train is your family. If anything happens, we'll be here for you.”

  In spite of her current misery, it was a comforting thought.

  3

  Constance seemed to rally a little, but Dr. Taylor warned that she'd need constant care. Lily promised to follow his instructions precisely.

  “Get some of the other women to help out with the boys,” he suggested. “You won't have time to care for them.”

  She knew that was the truth, but it was hard to bring herself to ask for the help, seeing as it had been her father who had caused the delay and the injuries that abounded throughout the camp. How could she ask for more than what they'd already given?

  However, it turned out that she didn't need to ask. Grace Riley, her daughter Hope, Beth Lewis, both of the doctor's daughters, and their mother showed up in the evening.

  “How's your mother?” Mrs. Riley, the preacher’s wife, asked her kindly. “She was number one on our list of prayers this evening.”

  Lily tried to smile, but there was such bitterness in her heart that she was afraid she couldn't convey her gratitude.

  She pretended to be preoccupied with the sewing that was in her lap. There was still sufficient light for the task, but she hadn’t done more than a few stitches since she’d picked it up an hour ago. “The doctor said she has a good chance, just so long as I can get her to drink and keep changing the dressing on her leg.”

  “You'll let us know if we can do anything for you, I hope.” This came from Beth, a woman who seemed most like Lily in nature. Both of them were reserved and not given to being terribly social.

  “I will, thank you.” She flashed her a brief glance and the biggest smile she could muster.

  Grace asked if she could look in on her mother, and Lily agreed. The other women circled around Lily and let her know that the boys, especially the younger ones, would be taken care of.

  “They can eat with us,” Hope volunteered. “They get along great with my brothers.”

  It was hard to let people help, but Lily knew she had to. Even though her father had instilled such
a strong sense of pride in the family and a resistance to taking charity, she couldn't turn them down. In any case, she was coming to believe that if she went against her father's instincts, she might be happier. His ways had made them miserable, so it only made sense that doing the opposite might produce a better result.

  The women left then and her brothers returned from playing with the preacher’s boys. They all asked after their mother, and Lily assured them that she was recovering nicely, even though she wasn't entirely confident about that. She couldn't have them worrying as well.

  “I hope you were on your best behavior,” she said, trying to give them a stern look. They looked a little surprised at the suggestion that they would be anything else.

  “Don't fuss at them, Lily,” Matthew said. At seventeen, he was trying to assume the role of leader of the family. Even though he was more mature than most boys his age, Lily didn’t want to put that on him. “They're good kids.”

  “What about you?” Mark quipped. Two years younger, the second oldest brother was the only one who could get away with saying such things. Matthew shot him a bit of a dark look though, as if warning him not to be so flippant.

  “Be serious,” he muttered. “This is not time for tomfoolery.”

  Mark pulled back in surprise, but said nothing more. The five of them got ready for bed and crawled into their tents. Lily wouldn't be sleeping in a tent tonight. She would lie down beside her mother in case she needed anything, but it was doubtful she would sleep.

  A few hours later, her doubts were confirmed. Every tiny noise her mother made prevented her from doing anything more than dozing. She tried to get some fluids in her and dabbed at her forehead with a cool cloth. The fever seemed to be coming down at least.

  By morning, there was some improvement, and when she informed the women who'd been helping her care for the boys, they praised God. Their vocal exclamation was hard to listen to given her recent grudge against God, but she thought she managed to cover it well by nodding and smiling.