Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  Mr. Stewart nodded, his expression a little wary. “And they’re afraid he won’t shoe their horses and the like, if they get in his way.” Seeing her nod, he sighed heavily and ran one hand over his lined forehead. “I gotta be honest with you, Annie, that’s the way I’m thinking. I need that man to shoe my horses, to brand my cattle, and to fix up my gates. If he won’t take me on, then my ranch is going to be hit, hard.”

  Annie felt tears well up in her eyes and blinked them back, furiously. “But what am I to do? He comes to my place every night, threatening me. He wants me to marry him, but I just can’t.”

  “And neither should you,” Mr. Stewart replied firmly, putting one hand on her arm. “I sure am sorry, Annie. I ought to be doing more for you, I know, but the threat of him not taking on my work is a hard one to dismiss.” Shaking his head, he let out a long breath, as his fingers tightened on Annie’s arm. “But you’re right. We need a sheriff around here. Someone who ain’t afraid of him.”

  Hope flared in her chest. “Well, what do we do?”

  “We don’t do anything,” he replied firmly. “You’re to go on back home and let me deal with all this. You understand? Simon can’t know that you’re the one who suggested this, else I’m guessing it’ll be all the worse for you.”

  Her hope was suddenly trampled by the heavy footsteps of fear making their way across her heart.

  “But I’ll see what I can do,” he said firmly. “And I can send someone round to your place to keep an eye on things if you need me to?”

  Annie knew just how much it took for Mr. Stewart to offer her that. If Simon found one of Mr. Stewart’s men guarding her house, then he could easily link that to the Stewart ranch. He could then turn down all of Mr. Stewart’s work and leave him in a good deal of difficulty.

  “Either that, or my son’s been needing himself a wife for a long time now,” Mr. Stewart continued, a smile on his face. “I know you might not have got over Paul yet, but—”

  “I-I can manage,” she stammered, as Mr. Stewart shook his head firmly. “I’m sure I can. I don’t want things to be difficult for you, sir.”

  Mr. Stewart’s eyes flared. “You’re much too kind, Annie. Much too considerate. This town ain’t good enough for you. We’ve left you high and dry, ain’t we?” His eyes searched hers. “All too afraid of that monstrosity, all too scared to turn against him. Meanwhile, we leave you to get on with things, knowing that he’s putting nothing but terror into your heart.”

  She closed her eyes against the flood of tears that threatened. “No one ever sees him though,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “No one ever sees what he does. I’m too far away, too far out of town. He always waits until it’s dark.”

  Mr. Stewart gave her a long, sad smile. “That doesn’t mean that we don’t know what he’s been doing,” he said quietly. “Simon says plenty of things when he’s got one too many whiskeys in him. Everyone in the saloon knows what he’s up to, Annie. I sure am sorry.” Tilting his head, he looked at her again. “I don’t want you to be afraid no longer.”

  “I’ll come back to you if I can’t manage any longer,” Annie promised, not knowing if she was going to be able to manage even another night of terror. “I swear it, Mr. Stewart.”

  He nodded slowly, still looking uncertain. “And I guess I’ll get onto the town council about hiring ourselves a sheriff,” he said firmly. “We have a meeting next week. I’ll make sure it’s discussed.”

  It was all she could hope for. “Thank you, Mr. Stewart.”

  “And you’re always welcome to come stay at the ranch if you need,” Mr. Stewart finished, as the mercantile boy brought out the rest of Annie’s things to the wagon. “I know it ain’t proper, and there might be a few raised eyebrows, but…” Shrugging, he let go of her hand. “You know that the offer is there. I don’t want you feeling like you ain’t got nowhere to go.”

  That was the first offer of support she’d had, ever since Paul had died. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as she looked back at Mr. Stewart and saw the shame burn in his eyes. She made no effort to wipe her tears away, aware of just how much his offer meant to her.

  “This town ain’t been good to you,” Mr. Stewart sighed, turning away from her with slumped shoulders. “I’m sorry for that, Annie. Mind what I said now.”

  “I will,” she whispered, as he climbed up onto his buggy with more ease than she’d expected from someone his age. “Thank you, Mr. Stewart.”

  Walking into the mercantile, Annie quickly found what she needed and brought it to the counter. She wouldn’t have to come back here again for another week, although she did have some more sewing to collect from Mrs. Forester. It gave her something to fill her days with, as well as a bit of an income. She sewed new dresses, aprons and all sorts of things, whatever Mrs. Forester could give her, and received a few coins in return. With only a small patch of land, some hens, and a couple of milking cows to care for, Annie had been glad of the extra work. It gave her something to do, something to take her mind off the fear that Simon had brought into her life.

  But now, the sun was already beginning to sink low. It was time for her to head on home to ensure everything was secured—just in case Simon planned on making an appearance tonight.

  “Everything all right, Annie?”

  Annie counted out her coins carefully and handed them to Mrs. Brinkley, the mercantile owner’s wife. She helped out whenever she could, whenever the baby was sleeping.

  “No, it ain’t all right,” she replied with more directness than she had first intended. “But as I’m sure you know, there ain’t much that can be done.”

  Mrs. Brinkley’s face fell. “I sure am sorry,” she replied, her lips curving down. “I’d send Adam out to help you but—”

  “You need the blacksmith, I know,” Annie finished quietly. “I ain’t blaming anyone, Mrs. Brinkley. I know you need your husband, especially with your new baby.”

  Mrs. Brinkley managed a small, wobbly smile. “But still,” she replied helplessly, “it ain’t right, what he’s doing. I don’t know all of it, but John says he’s trying to make you his wife by force.”

  Not wanting to go into specifics, Annie gave her a short, jerky nod. “That’s about right. Anyway, I’d best be going.”

  Mrs. Brinkley offered to help her with her things, but Annie waved her away. She was tired and, truth be told, a little angry with how the townsfolk watched Simon but did nothing. No one even said a word to him about how he behaved towards Annie. Even if they didn’t see what he got up to at nights, from what Mr. Stewart had said, it was obvious a lot of folks knew full well what Simon was intending, if not what he was doing.

  How long had she endured this by herself, knowing that the townsfolk wouldn’t do anything to help her? Was that fair? Was that right?

  Loading her things on to the buggy carefully, Annie tried to take hold of her wild emotions. She knew why they couldn’t say a word, didn’t she? She knew that the blacksmith was an essential part of most townsfolks’ lives. If Simon refused to take on their work, then a lot of things would suffer. Could she really blame them for their reluctance to help her? Or was this entirely Simon’s doing?

  Quickly driving to Mrs. Forester’s home, she collected another basket of sewing, as well as her payment for the last lot she had done, before turning her horse’s nose towards home. Mrs. Forester was not exactly friendly and had never exchanged more than a few words with her, but at least the work was always plentiful. She had that to be grateful for.

  Her stomach was twisting itself in knots by the time Annie got the horse home. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and even though she knew that Simon would only just be making his way to the saloon by now, and that she had plenty of time to prepare herself, her nerves began to fray all the more. She was worried that somehow Simon had overheard her conversation with Mr. Stewart and that he might reappear at her house earlier than she’d anticipated, so Annie quickly unloaded her goods to the front porch of
her house and then led the horse towards the barn.

  Once inside, Annie quickly unhitched the buggy and began to brush the horse down, working as quickly as she could. Her breath was coming quick and fast, her mind working overtime with all that might occur tonight, even though she couldn’t be sure that Simon would turn up with his usual demands. He always threatened to come back the next night, but then, sometimes, he wouldn’t appear for days. It was another way to frighten her, another way to keep her tormented. Annie knew it was working.

  “There we go,” she murmured to her faithful mare, making sure it was fed and watered before she shut the latched door. The mare, clearly glad to be home and glad to be back with her foal – who was now no longer a foal but old enough to soon be broken in – whinnied gently, as though understanding that Annie was going to have a fretful night. Annie paused for a moment and ran her hand down its velvet nose, closing her eyes tightly to let the wave of panic pass.

  And then, she heard it.

  A groan.

  Her stomach churned. Freezing in place, she slowly turned her head, fearing that Simon had come to grab her out here in the open, out where she couldn’t find any kind of safety.

  But there was no one there.

  Her heart in her throat, Annie left her horse munching happily on its oats and tentatively made her way to the barn door. Perhaps, in her panic, she’d been hearing things. Slowly sticking her head out into the open, she scanned the field in front of her house, looking left to right and back again, only for her eyes to catch sight of something slumped in the tall, waving grass to her left.

  “Oh!”

  She stumbled back, one hand to her mouth as she pressed herself hard against the door of the barn. The groaning sound came again, although this time she knew where it came from. The figure in the grass.

  And then, in the quietest of whispers, she heard him speak. He said two, quiet words, “Help me.”

  Her very soul trembled.

  “Please,” he rasped, not moving in the least as his voice drifted towards her. “Please, help me.”

  Annie froze in place, her eyes fixed on the figure in the grass, not able to speak, not able to move. Her limbs were wooden, fixed to the ground, her pulse beating rapidly in her throat.

  “Oh, thank goodness!”

  Jerking her head up, she saw a young woman running towards her, blonde hair flying in the breeze. Her face was pale, and there was blood on her cheek. Annie tensed, as though the woman was to run straight into her, but she came to a sudden stop.

  “Is this your house?” the girl asked, tears flooding her hazel eyes. She was tall and a little too thin, with severe cheekbones and skin that held no color whatsoever.

  Annie nodded, her throat almost closing up with fright. She was terrified that this was all to do with Simon.

  “Then can you help us?” the young woman asked, almost begging Annie to do so. “Please, we haven’t got anywhere else to go?”

  Swallowing once, twice, Annie tried to speak. She tried to move but found herself still frozen with shock.

  “He’s my brother,” the lady explained, moving towards the man in the grass. “Joe Taylor. I’m Laura. Please, can you help us?”

  With an effort, Annie pushed herself away from the barn door and moved, hesitantly towards them both. “What happened?” she rasped, making sure to stay a good distance away so that this ‘Joe Taylor’ couldn’t jump out of the grass and grab her. She had no idea who he was, or who this young woman was, but there was no saying that they couldn’t be working alongside Simon.

  Laura looked up at her, wiping tears from her face. “He’s been shot.”

  3

  Shock reverberated through Annie’s bones.

  “Shot?” she repeated hoarsely. “Where? How?”

  Laura shook her head. “It’s a long story, but I can’t tell you it now,” she said, with more firmness than Annie had expected. “I need to get him inside. Can we go in?”

  Annie wanted to say no. She wanted to tell them both that she was not as stupid as Simon took her to be, but in the waning light, she could see that the girl’s tears appeared to be genuine. Doubt filled her mind. What if she was wrong? What if this man really had been shot? She couldn’t just leave him out here.

  “We have a horse too,” Laura said, getting up from her knees. “Joe couldn’t stay on him any longer and fell to the ground, and I came to try and find some help.” Her tears were flowing again. “Once we get Joe inside, I’ll go fetch him from where I put him. We couldn’t be too careful.”

  Annie didn’t understand a word of what Laura said but, to her astonishment, found herself agreeing. Taking a tentative step forward, she looked down at the prone man on the ground, her eyes fixed on a dark stain that was spreading from his shoulder.

  Her breath hitched.

  He had been shot.

  This was not Simon’s doing, and yet, she had so many questions. Her stomach rolled violently, as shades of red and orange began to spread across the sky. Simon might be coming to her house soon, and she hadn’t even shut up the barn yet.

  “Come on,” she said, making a decision. “We’ll get him inside, and then I’ll find your horse. I need to lock up the barn and quickly, too.”

  A look of relief washed over Laura’s face. “Oh, thank you,” she whispered, catching Annie’s hand for a moment. “I didn’t think we’d find anyone to help us.”

  Annie managed a small, rueful smile. “I know how that feels. Come on then. Let’s try and get him up.”

  Looking down at the man, Annie found herself suddenly at a loss as to what to do. Panic began to seep into her veins as Laura bent down to speak to him. How could she get him into the house if he was too weak to stand up? She couldn’t exactly grab his arm and throw it over her shoulder, not if he’d been shot.

  “I can manage,” she heard him rasp, as Laura looked up at her. “I just need help to stand up.”

  The groan of agony that tore from his lips as Laura helped him stand made Annie wince in sympathy for him. He’d obviously been shot recently, and the blood spreading across his shirt made her a little concerned. They had to get him into the house quickly so that she could find a way to stop the bleeding. On top of that, his face was bruised and battered, although it didn’t look as though the bruises had happened today.

  “This way,” she murmured, putting one arm around his waist as they began to walk, ever so slowly, back towards the house. “We’ll take care of you, Joe. Don’t worry.”

  He didn’t say anything. His steps were slow and his gait uneven. She could hear his heavy, ragged breathing as they made their way up the field. It took her longer than she thought, but—somehow—they managed to get Joe into the kitchen.

  “He’d best lie down in front of the stove,” Annie said quickly, as Joe half collapsed to the floor, having clearly given the last of his strength to getting inside. “Careful now.”

  Laura was white-faced, as she pulled a cushion from the soft chair in the corner, placing it under Joe’s head. Annie got to her feet, glancing at the items she’d left out on the porch. She had to bring those in still, then find Laura’s horse, put it in the barn, lock it up tight, and then secure the house – all before looking after Joe. Her head was spinning, fear rifling through her as she looked at the two strangers now in her house.

  “I-I have to do a few things,” she said, as Laura looked up at her anxiously. “I have to see to the horses, and…well, I know your brother is in trouble, but we’ll all be in more trouble if I don’t do this.”

  Laura sniffed and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I can take care of him.”

  “Put some water on to boil and try and take off his shirt if you can,” Annie replied quickly, one eye on the dimming sunset outside. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  She didn’t wait to hear Laura’s reply but hurried out to the porch. Not even bringing the goods into the kitchen, she set them down just inside the front door before hurrying back out towards
the barn. She was about to close and lock the door, when she remembered Laura telling her about her own horse.

  Closing her eyes in frustration as she realized she hadn’t even asked Laura where this horse was, she ran hurriedly around one side of the barn, looking for the animal everywhere. Finally, she spotted a large black stallion standing patiently under a few trees. He snorted as she came closer, his reins thrown over one of the tree branches.

  “It’s okay,” she said soothingly, wondering if the horse would be skittish if Joe had been shot whilst he’d been riding. “Come on now. I’ve gotta get you in the barn.”

  Slowly, so slowly, she reached for the reins and carefully took them from the branch. The stallion didn’t even move, aside from a flick of the ear. It was as though he were working out whether or not she could be trusted.

  Aware that the horse could easily tug the reins out of her hands and run off, Annie looped the reins over one wrist a few times, despite knowing that she might easily be dragged if the horse decided to bolt. There was something Laura had said that continued to niggle at her mind, something about having to be careful. She didn’t know exactly what had happened, and she didn’t know exactly why they’d have to be careful, but she wasn’t about to lose their horse. Very carefully, she began to walk towards the barn, murmuring gently under her breath, as she silently prayed that the horse would follow her without complaint.

  The reins grew taut and then, finally, the stallion began to move. Letting out a breath of relief, she led it towards the barn door and brought it inside. Fear began to spiral in her chest, as the sky began to grow dark.

  The stallion, however, on seeing the mare, seemed to brighten at once. He whinnied, tossed his mane and hurried inside, seemingly quite glad to go into the stall next to her. It didn’t take too long for Annie to remove the saddle and bridle, even if her fingers slipped now and again, but she just didn’t have time to brush the animal down. Making sure it had something to eat, she hurried towards the door and closed it tightly, making sure to lock it up securely. Then, her heart pounding rapidly, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.