by Joyce Alec
As the wagon began to move, leaving their home behind for the last time, Hazel looked back at it and let out a sigh of both sadness and relief. She wasn’t going to be leaving this place to move into another place nearby, she was going to be leaving this town for good, ready to start over somewhere new. She just hoped that Stephen was going to be a good man who wouldn’t ask her for what she couldn’t give.
Her heart.
7
Hazel just couldn’t stop crying. She’d already sodden three handkerchiefs and now was on her fourth and still the tears kept coming. The way Martha had clung to her, desperately begging her to stay, had torn at her soft heart. She had been so upset, so distraught, that it had pained Hazel to leave.
She’d been on the train for hours, and she still couldn’t let go of the sense of loss. Her mother had been as brave as she could be, managing to give Hazel a warm, encouraging smile. Hazel’s father had given her one long hug before turning away to “check on the horses”. It was his way of keeping his composure, his way of pressing down his emotions. Hazel wasn’t in any doubt as to how much her father loved her.
Trying desperately to dry her eyes, Hazel leaned back in her chair and tried to calm her ragged breathing. She couldn’t exactly draw up to the station with puffy eyes and a red face, especially since she was most likely to get married almost the moment she stepped out of the train. She wanted to make a good first impression.
The next thing Hazel knew, she was being shaken by the porter who informed her that they had drawn up at the station. Jerking in surprise, Hazel looked all about her and saw that the train was practically empty save for her.
“I fell asleep,” she mumbled, her crashing nerves beginning to sway all about her stomach. “Are we here? Is this it?”
“Thorn Creek, miss,” the porter replied with a kind smile. “Come on, now. We’ve already taken your luggage out.”
Wishing that she’d had time to prepare herself a little better, Hazel brushed one hand over her eyes before pulling on her bonnet over her blonde curls and tying the ribbons under her chin. Pinching her cheeks, she got to her feet, straightened her skirts and made her way to the door of the train.
Barely anyone was around. Some porters were taking the last pieces of luggage out from the train into the station, but the rest of the passengers were on their way out of the station and heading towards the town. Hazel felt her breath catch in her chest as she saw a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the wall of the station, his eyes fixed on her.
Clearing her throat, Hazel tried to smile and walked forward purposefully.
“Stephen Grant?” she asked, taking in his rugged features. He was tall with dark hair, just as he had said, although there was a sternness about his face that told her he was not a man who smiled particularly often. Rather firm, if she had gauged him correctly.
He nodded, no smile of welcome on his face. “You must be Hazel.”
“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, still trying to sound cheerful. “I’m glad to meet you.”
He sniffed and stood up straight, making Hazel aware of just how tall he actually was. “Let’s get on to the church then. I’ll have the porters put your things in the back of the wagon, ready for when we’re done.”
Hazel blinked, a little taken aback by his swiftness. “We’re going to the church now?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I can’t exactly take you back to the ranch as an unmarried woman now, can I? Besides, ain’t this what you signed up for?”
Hazel’s palms grew sweaty, and she clasped them in front of her. “Of course,” she murmured, trying not to be too astonished at just how quickly everything was happening. “Is it far?”
“Just up this way,” he said, gesturing to a small path that led into the town. “We’ll come back for the wagon.”
Hazel began to walk, feeling both tired and thirsty from her long train ride. She hadn’t had much to eat or drink since she’d been too busy crying her heart out, only to fall into a wretched sleep. Stephen was busy talking to the porters, which left her to walk up the path alone, giving her the first view of the town.
Much to her surprise, it looked rather the same as home, albeit a little redder. The dust and sand rolled together by her feet. As she walked, she saw an older lady sweeping the boardwalk in front of the mercantile shop.
“Hi there,” she greeted, wondering whether Stephen was going to be following her any time soon. “Is there somewhere nearby I can get a drink? I’m awful thirsty.”
The lady’s eyes grew sympathetic. “You’ve just come off the train?”
Hazel nodded, relieved that at least someone showed her a little consideration.
“I’m Mary,” the older lady smiled, putting out one hand. “Sure is nice to meet you!”
“Hazel, ma’am”
“The church is this way,” Stephen said, his harsh tone catching in her ears and sparking something like anger in Hazel’s heart. Turning around, she glared at him as he came near her, seeing the irritation on his face.
He made to take her hand, only for Hazel to jerk it out of the way.
“I was just making myself acquainted with your town,” Hazel replied, standing her ground. “And greeting Mary, here.” She turned back to the older lady, who was looking at Stephen with something like surprise on her face.
“I was wondering, Mary, if you’d be able to tell me where I can get something to drink?” she asked again, ignoring Stephen completely. “I’ve been on that train for a long time, and I’m sure I might faint if I don’t get something to drink soon.”
Mary, however, did not look at her. Something like anger crept into her features as she gazed at Stephen, her lips thinning.
“Are you marrying this here girl, Stephen?” Mary asked, putting her hands on her hips. “A mail order bride? Is that it?”
“That’s it,” Stephen grated.
Mary’s jaw clenched for a moment. “Then I expect you to take better care of your wife,” she exclaimed, putting one hand on Hazel’s arm. “For goodness sake, Stephen, she’s just come off the train and you’re dragging her to the church already! Did you even think about what she might need?” She turned back to Hazel, a warm smile on her face. “Now you come right on in here with me, my dear. We’ll get you something to eat and drink before this brute of a man drags you off to marry him.”
“The pastor’s waiting!” Stephen exclaimed, only for Mary to go rigid and spin on her heel back towards him.
“Then the pastor can wait a little longer!” she cried. “And so can you.”
Hazel, a little stunned by all that had taken place, managed to follow Mary inside, a little worried about her husband-to-be’s character. She patted her pocket self-consciously, fully aware that she had the money inside, should she need to go back home.
“Now,” Mary said, as she led Hazel to the back of the shop. “You just sit yourself down here and I’ll get you a few things.”
Hazel, sitting down on an old rocking chair that sounded as though it would splinter beneath her at any moment, smiled as Mary handed her an apple and a glass of water, before putting down a tray of freshly made cookies on the table between them.
“Thank you ever so much,” Hazel murmured, before drinking thirstily. “You’re very kind.”
“We take care of people round these parts,” Mary replied, with a firm look in her eye. “Now are you sure you want to be marrying that man? Stephen Grant ain’t known for being the pleasantest of men.”
A stone dropped in Hazel’s stomach. “Are you saying he’s cruel?” She shuddered, her free hand gripping the arm of the chair. “I’ve been bullied by a man before, and I ain’t going to let that happen again. I’d rather turn around and get back on that train before I tie myself to that kind of man.”
Mary tilted her head and studied Hazel for a moment. “You’re a strong woman then?”
Recalling everything that had happened with Christopher, Hazel shrugged. “I’m not sure I am,” she replied honestly.
“I used to be, but then…” Closing her eyes, she tried to smile. “The only reason I’m marrying Stephen is to get away.” She opened her eyes and shook her head. “That’s not exactly strong, is it?”
Mary’s expression grew sympathetic. “It’s a way out though. There ain’t no shame in taking it if things are getting too hard.” Letting out a long breath, she folded her hands in her lap and looked directly at Hazel. “Listen, Stephen Grant ain’t a bad man. He’s not cruel, and he won’t hurt you, not ever. He’s got a good heart underneath those layers of ice.”
“He looks like a man who doesn’t have a lot of happiness,” Hazel replied quietly, munching her apple. “Did something happen to him?”
Mary put a finger to her lips and shook her head, her eyes smiling. “That would be for him to tell you, if he ever does.” Her shoulders slumped, as she looked over at Hazel. “He’s not going to be able to love you though. Are you sure this is a marriage you want to go into?”
Hazel let out a choked laugh, startling Mary. “Then if that’s all that’s worrying you, you don’t need to concern yourself with that any longer. I’m not looking for that kind of thing either.”
“You’re not?” Mary asked, surprised. “I thought most mail order brides hoped for that at some point.”
“Not me,” Hazel replied emphatically. “And, if things don’t work out, I’ve got enough money to take me back home.”
“And you can always come talk to me,” Mary replied firmly, as Hazel got to her feet, feeling much more refreshed. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”
Hazel smiled, feeling as though she had already made a good friend in this new town. “I sure appreciate your hospitality, Mary. I’d best be getting on now.”
Mary smiled, and much to Hazel’s surprise, threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. Her gesture was so much of a surprise that Hazel found tears come into her eyes almost at once, her heart aching just a little.
“Welcome to Thorn Creek,” Mary murmured, finally releasing her. “You’re going to do just fine out here, I know it. Stephen needs a strong, bold woman like you. Just don’t let yourself be afraid of his gruff nature.”
Hazel lifted her chin, blinking back her tears. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she replied firmly. “Thank you, Mary.”
8
Stephen Grant paced up and down outside the mercantile, already frustrated with the situation. Sure, he hadn’t cared much for anything other than getting to the church, but that hadn’t meant he’d not thought of getting Hazel something to eat or drink after that. The truth was, he was now worried that whatever Mary had to say about him, it would put Hazel right off wedding him—and he needed a wife.
Life was slowly beginning to get on top of him, and he struggled to cope. Not that he’d admit that to anyone, mind you, since that would be showing some kind of weakness—a weakness he refused to talk about.
He’d bought a ranch only a few months ago, thanks to money his papa had left him when he’d passed. It had been something Stephen had dreamed of for years, and now that he had it, he was only just beginning to realize just how difficult things really were, trying to run a ranch practically single handed.
Of course, he had two men to help him, Joe and Ned, but they slept in the cabin while he stayed in the house. It didn’t afford him a lot of company, especially since he was the owner and they were just the hired workers. Not that they weren’t friendly enough, but there was clearly some kind of distance between them.
Getting up to run his ranch, as well as cook all his own meals, clean all his own clothes, and even try his hand at darning had left him exhausted. He wasn’t looking for someone to warm his bed or give him sweet kisses when he came in from the ranch, but rather a wife who was able to run the house while he ran the ranch. Almost like a partnership of sorts, he supposed.
And now, Hazel had arrived. She was prettier than he had expected, with dark brown eyes, blonde curly hair, and a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. She looked robust enough, although he couldn’t help but be frustrated with how she’d gone off on her own to introduce herself to Mary instead of waiting for him to show her the way to the church. He just had to hope that this display of tenacity was just a brief moment of stubbornness. The last thing he wanted was a dogged, persistent wife who wouldn’t do as she was told.
“Ready?”
Spinning around, Stephen saw Hazel framed in the doorway, her eyes fixed on his.
“Yes, of course,” he muttered, passing a hand over his eyes in relief. “Are you feeling better?”
“How nice of you to ask,” she replied, with just a hint of mockery. “Much better, thank you.”
His cheeks burned as he became aware of just how much he’d already failed in her eyes. “The church is this way,” he muttered, gesturing in the opposite direction. “So long as you’re still amenable.”
For a moment, he thought Hazel was going to refuse him, but much to his relief, she simply shrugged and kept on walking. Apparently, Mary hadn’t said too much against him, which he was grateful for. There was a lot more to his story than Hazel knew, but the chances were he’d never want to talk to her about it.
He never wanted to talk to anyone about it.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asked, wondering whether or not he should take her hand. “I know this is a lot to take in, being awful quick and all.”
“Yes, it is rather,” she replied, looking up at him. “I’m gonna tell you now that I’ve got parents waiting to hear from me back home. If they don’t, my papa is going to be on the train here to find me. No doubt about it.” Her eyes flashed with an inner fire, her chin lifted.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Stephen replied, a little affronted that she would think so little of him. “I’ll be as good a husband as anyone—just without any of kind of affection.” He glanced at her, worrying that she might have secretly been hoping for such a thing.
She tossed her head. “I’m glad to hear it, Stephen. You’ll find me hardworking, honest, and blunt.” Glancing over at him, she gave him a small smile. “I hope you’re prepared for all that.”
Stephen cleared his throat, rather relieved that they were approaching the church. “The pastor’s expecting us,” he mumbled, holding open the door for her. “Just go on in.”
There was no hesitation on her part. Instead, she walked straight in, and within a few moments, greeted the pastor with a warm smile.
“So you’re to be Stephen’s wife, are you?” the pastor asked, glancing over at Stephen. “I’m quite sure you’re going to live wonderfully together. Any problems, however, you know where I am.”
“I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Hazel replied, walking up to the front of the church. “Is this where I should stand?”
Stephen paused, as the pastor made his way forward, making Hazel stand just in front of his pulpit. He looked over at his wife-to-be, suddenly filled with doubts over his decision to write for a mail order bride. Hazel had been the first response he’d received, and since he wasn’t sure he’d get any others, he’d written back to her straight away. Was he really willing just to tie himself to a veritable stranger, just so he could get some help on his ranch?
“Are you coming, Stephen?”
Her voice was crisp, her eyes clear, as she looked over at him with one raised eyebrow. The pastor was also waiting for him, looking a little impatient. It wasn’t as though he now had any choice in the matter. She’d come all this way on the promise that he’d wed her, and that was exactly what he planned to do. It had all seemed so simple, right up until he reached this very moment, the moment he’d have to give his vows and promise himself to her for the rest of his days.
“Stephen, either you’re doing this or I’m getting back on that train,” Hazel said a little louder. “I ain’t going to be waiting here all day for you to make that decision.”
He swallowed and bowed his head, not wanting to show her any kind of weakness.
“I was just t
hinking,” he muttered to her, his legs feeling like heavy sacks of grain as he walked into the church. “Sorry. Of course, we’re doing this. Carry on, Pastor.”
His heart began to pound in his chest as the pastor began to speak. He hadn’t thought he’d find this so difficult.
Memories began to flood his mind, memories of the last time he’d stood up in this church. His breathing quickened, forcing him to drop his head and concentrate on simply getting through this. Giving himself a slight shake, he pushed his thoughts away, listening only to the sound of his breath. The pastor’s voice faded into the background. The painful stings of the past slowly began to fade. Finally, he managed to take control.
“Stephen?”
Jerking his head up, he saw Hazel looking at him, one eyebrow raised and a slight look of frustration on her face. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the pastor, who was also looking at him in much the same way.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling hugely embarrassed. “What did you say?”
Hazel let out a frustrated breath. “Do you want to marry me or not?”
“I do,” Stephen replied, without a moment of hesitation, determined to get through this. “Sorry, I was—”
“And will you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” the pastor interrupted, looking over at Hazel.
Her eyes fastened on his, and just for a second, she didn’t answer. Stephen looked back at her, forcing himself not to look away. He’d made a mess of this so far, and he had to reassure her that this was what he wanted, that he’d be as good a husband as he could be.
“I do,” came her whispered reply, her eyes dimming just a little.
The pastor smiled and then announced them husband and wife before praying a blessing over them both.
Stephen couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t look away from the woman standing in front of him. The expression on her face had been one of sadness, as though she was suddenly torn apart by what she was doing. To his shame, Stephen realized he barely knew anything about her family, or her background. All he’d really cared about was whether she would be the kind of wife he needed. Was she sad about leaving her family behind? Had she been given no other choice but to find herself a husband?
