No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1)

by Nerys Leigh

  Swallowing a flash of nerves, she began to read.

  Dear Miss Watts,

  Thank you for allowing me to correspond with you with a view to the possibility of matrimony. It was such a pleasure to receive your letter.

  First, let me introduce myself. My name is Adam Emerson and I am 25 years old and live in a town called Green Hill Creek in northern California. I doubt you’ll have heard of it as it is small, but growing steadily.

  I run the post office and have done for the past two years since my uncle nominated me to take over from him as postmaster when he became ill. It still seems new to me, but I am enjoying the work very much and have a good relationship with the people of the town. I also work mornings as a clerk at the bank. Between the two jobs, I am fully able to support a wife and, eventually, a family.

  I am in good health, a little over six feet tall and have dark brown hair and blue eyes. My mother tells me I’m handsome, although I think mothers always say that of their sons! But I do not think I am unpleasant to look at.

  I find I cannot describe what I wish for in a wife as far as appearance is concerned, because I think all women are beautiful in different ways. But what I do know is that I would like someone who first and foremost loves God. I accepted the Lord Jesus into my life when I was a child and I feel that only a woman who understands what that means could understand me. Other than that, I would like someone who laughs a lot. Someone who likes to have long conversations, but who also takes joy in simply having fun. Someone who likes to be outdoors and enjoys the beauty of nature. I think what I want most is a companion who will stand with me through all of life’s challenges, so that we can support and take care of each other. And most of all, someone who I will love and who will love me in return.

  I am very much looking forward to hearing from you and anything you would like to share about yourself.

  Yours sincerely,

  Adam Emerson

  Amy pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks. He sounded so full of anticipation, so hopeful. Not for the first time since she’d arrived, she wished things were different. Wished she was different.

  Pushing aside the thought, she read the letter again. She couldn’t help smiling at how formal he sounded. Almost nervous. It wasn’t like him at all, and yet it was. She imagined him sitting down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper, planning what to say, writing it down, maybe discarding it and starting again, working on it until he was happy.

  I do not think I am unpleasant to look at.

  That part made her shake her head. Not unpleasant to look at was such an understatement when it came to Adam. She thought of his beautiful blue eyes and his handsome face, his dazzling smile and his tall, strong frame. As far as Amy was concerned, he was as far from unpleasant to look at as it was possible to be. He was perfect.

  Sighing, she replaced the paper in the envelope and put the letters back into the drawer. Maybe she’d read the rest another day, when she was more emotionally stable than she apparently was tonight. Getting through them without crying would be a good start.

  For now, she had to get downstairs and start dishing out the supper. The splashing had stopped and there was no way she would allow Adam to do anything else this evening. If he tried, he was going to have a fight on his hands.

  Smiling at the thought, she wiped away the rest of her tears and headed for the stairs.

  Chapter 15

  “Enjoy your hay.” Amy patted Stride’s shoulder and left him eating in his stall, the picture of contentment.

  After three days at the livery bringing the horses in from the paddock was becoming her favourite part of the day, the only time she really got to interact with them. She also liked working alongside George. During the day he was usually either outside, doing repairs and maintenance or working with the horses.

  In the stall next to Stride’s Clementine stopped eating and eyed Amy warily as she leaned her arms on top of the door. The nervous horse pressed herself into the farthest corner and pawed at the floor.

  “It’s all right, girl,” Amy said, keeping her voice low. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The white horse stopped kicking up straw, but still looked like she wanted to bolt. Amy watched her for a few more seconds then backed away and walked to where George sat at his desk by the front doors. The front entrance was closed and a kerosene lamp on the desk cast a soft glow.

  George’s lined face wore the worried frown working on the ledger always seemed to produce. Amy didn’t know what was in the leather-bound black book, but there was little doubt it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. She longed to help in some way.

  There was a wide area beyond the desk in which barrels, sacks of feed and sundry other items were heaped haphazardly around each other. Movement caught her eye as a plump brown rat burst from behind a wooden box and dashed towards the open back doors.

  Amy yelped, putting a hand to her racing heart. She was getting tired of being startled by the livery’s copious resident rodents.

  “You need a cat in here.”

  “Cats need feeding,” George said, not looking up from his ledger.

  “They’d be eating rats and mice. Besides, I’m sure you’d save enough in what they’re stealing now to feed a cat or three. I swear I’ve never seen rats so fat. I’m surprised they can still run.”

  A grunt was his only reply.

  Amy studied the mess around him. “I think this area is wasted.”

  George raised his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Amy walked forward amongst the miscellaneous boxes and sacks. “Just, it’s kind of a mess and it’s the first thing people see when they come in.”

  He looked around him. “I have to put it all somewhere.”

  She picked up a rusting metal feeder that obviously hadn’t been used for some time.

  “Maybe not that,” he said.

  “But does it have to go here?” she said, putting the basket down and spreading her hands to encompass the whole area.

  “It’s always been there.”

  “But does it have to be?”

  He scrunched up his face like agreeing with her was painful. “Maybe not. But if it wasn’t, where would I put the lot of it? And why would I want to move it anyway?”

  Ideas were sparking to life. “You sell saddles and bridles and all the other horse stuff, but it’s all in that room where no one can see it.” She pointed towards the small room which adjoined the main building and housed a collection of horse related paraphernalia, some of which had been covered in thick dust before Amy cleaned it.

  “If a person comes in wanting anything, I take them in there.”

  “I know, but they have to ask. If you moved all this in there and moved all that out here and displayed it all nicely, someone who hasn’t necessarily come in here for that may see something and decide to buy it. But you need to have it where they can see it. This area is perfect.” She held her arms out to either side of her and faced him, smiling. “You could put hooks on the walls to hang saddles and have some shelves for the smaller items.”

  He looked unconvinced. “You sound like Zach. He always has all these big ideas. But it sounds like a whole lot of work for nothing to me.”

  “I’ve seen how shops do it in New York, the way they get people into the stores so they’ll buy things. It will work, I know it will.”

  “This ain’t the big city, girl.” Frowning, he turned back to his ledger.

  Amy picked her way to his side and sank to her knees, taking his hand in both of hers. He seemed startled at the contact, his eyes widening.

  “Please, George, I know something’s wrong.”

  A flash of anger crossed his face.

  “I haven’t seen what’s in the ledger,” she said quickly, “but I see how worried you get when you work on it. I want to help. It won’t take much work and no money. I’ll even do it in my own time, if you like. I might need help moving some of
it, but I can do the rest myself. Please let me do this. Please?”

  She stared up at him, silently pleading with him to agree.

  His expression softened, just a little. “I can’t decide if you’re the best worker I ever had, or the worst.”

  She grinned. “Does that mean I can do it?”

  He heaved a sigh. “I’ll probably regret this, but we can start on it tomorrow.”

  She squeaked in excitement. “Thank you! It’ll be great, you’ll see.”

  “Hmm.”

  Chapter 16

  “There you go, boy. Enjoy your hay.”

  Amy patted Eagle’s shoulder and left the sturdy bay horse chewing contentedly on his food, closing the stall door behind her. She moved along the row, smiling at the sight of all the horses happy and safe in their stalls. A few of them had their heads hanging over the doors to watch her and she took the time to greet each one with a stroke of their silky hair or a pat on their neck.

  Some might have found the work she did at the livery unpleasant, with all the muck and cleaning involved, but knowing each of the horses, having them trust her and be happy to see her, made it worthwhile. She sent up a silent thank You to God for bringing her there. There was no doubt in her mind that it was His guidance that had got her the job with George she loved so much.

  Reaching the alcove where she kept her belongings, she took an apple and her knife from her bag then picked up the stool and carried it across to Clementine’s stall. The white horse stopped eating and watched her warily.

  “It’s all right, Clem,” she said in a soft and hopefully soothing voice, “you’re safe with me.”

  She opened the door to the stall and Clem turned to face her, pressing into the farthest corner of the space. Amy placed the stool down onto the straw-strewn floor inside the stall, cut a slice of apple and placed it onto the seat. Then she backed out, closed the door again, and waited.

  And waited.

  After ten minutes or so, Clementine took a few tentative steps forward and sniffed at the apple on the stool. Stretching out her lips, she plucked it from the wooden surface and retreated to the corner to eat.

  Amy wanted to laugh. Instead, she cut another slice, opened the door, and left it on the stool again. This time it took the skittish horse only five minutes to retrieve the treat. The following time, only one. When Amy placed a fourth chunk of apple on the stool, she left the door open a little, standing in the gap where Clementine could see her.

  Five minutes passed.

  Ten.

  Amy began to wonder if she was rushing things, but when she was just about to close the stall door, Clementine took a couple of steps towards the stool. Amy held her breath. Another two steps brought the horse within reach of the apple. Suddenly, she darted her head forward, grabbed the apple which sat only three feet from Amy, and sprang back into her corner.

  Amy instantly cut another piece and placed it on the stool. To her surprise, Clementine almost immediately walked forward and picked it up, this time watching Amy for a couple of seconds before returning to the corner.

  Amy removed the stool, closed the door, and leaned her elbows on the top.

  “I know you’re afraid,” she said softly, “but I also know you’re very brave. I know someone hurt you, but that doesn’t mean all people are bad. It’s all right to trust, as long as you trust the right people.”

  As long as you trust the right people. It was good advice, and not just for horses. There had been few people Amy had trusted in the course of her life, even fewer who’d been worthy of it. Like Clementine, she wanted to trust, but fear still held her back. An image of Adam’s face came into her mind. Amy longed to be like normal people who could follow their hearts without their brains stepping in and constantly whispering to them all the things that could go wrong. In her whole life, she’d never wished for that more than she did now.

  A nose nudged at her arm, making her smile. Stride was stretching his neck around the wall separating his and Clementine’s stalls, his nostrils flaring at the slice of apple left in Amy’s hand.

  “Here you go,” she said, giving him the apple and rubbing his forehead as he ate. “I’m sure you don’t mind the rest went to your girl. I’ll have more apples on Monday. For both of you.”

  “Amy?” George’s voice came from the front of the building.

  “I’m here.”

  She left Stride and Clem and walked to the front door where he sat at his desk. She couldn’t help admiring what they’d done so far with the area behind him. George had attached hooks to the walls for the bridles and halters and moved a long rack into place beneath them for the saddles. Amy had polished every saddle and bridle before displaying them. It was already working. Three sets of tack had already been sold and a few other bits and pieces had gone too. She still had work to do, but it was a good start.

  George looked up as she approached. “You heading home now?”

  “Yes, unless there’s anything else you need me to do.”

  “No, you can go.” He handed her a brown envelope. “Your first week’s pay.”

  It was the first time Amy had ever been paid for her work. She took the envelope almost reverently and carefully tore open the top. Inside, she found a five dollar bill and three singles.

  “But this is twice what...”

  George had returned his gaze to the ledger on his desk. “I’ve paid you what I’ve paid you. I’m a fair man and you’re a good worker. And your idea with the saddles and such has brought in some sales.”

  Tears burned at Amy’s eyes. Being appreciated for what she did was a new and somewhat overwhelming experience. “Thank you.”

  He nodded his head, still not looking at her. “You earned it. I’ll see you Sunday at church.”

  Clutching the envelope in her hand, she went to fetch her bag, said goodbye to George and walked outside into the long shadows of early evening. After paying back the two dollars Adam had lent her she could give him four more towards what she owed him and still have two left for a few items she needed.

  Turning right, she headed in the direction of the general store.

  Chapter 17

  Dear Miss Watts,

  Thank you for your letter. I was so excited to find it as I was sorting the mail that I accidentally knocked all the letters I’d already sorted onto the floor and had to start all over again! Thankfully I hadn’t got very far. I didn’t read it straight away though. I wanted to savour it, so I waited until my work was finished. That wasn’t easy, I can tell you!

  I was so happy to hear of your relationship with God. You are right, without Him life would be very hard. The comfort He has given me, the assurance of His presence, has so often been my light in the darkness, and by the way you spoke I suspect you feel the same way. We are so blessed.

  Working in the kitchen in such a large, grand house sounds like very hard work. Do you enjoy it? Perhaps that’s a silly question, what can there be to enjoy in scrubbing pots and pans and ovens? But maybe there are some not so bad parts. I hope your employer appreciates your dedication.

  For my part, I enjoy running the post office very much. I take pride in being responsible for so many letters and packages and making sure they reach their intended recipients. Each one has so much potential. A letter can be life-changing.

  I know this is only my second letter to you, and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m prone to dashing headlong into situations without thinking them through first, but ever since I received your first letter I’ve felt an anticipation, like something amazing is about to happen. Does that sound foolish? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I wonder if some time in the future I will look back on these letters as changing my life for the better. Now I sound overly romantic. If my brothers knew I was writing these things they would tease me mercilessly!

  Do you have siblings? I have two older sisters, one younger sister and two younger brothers. Even though I don’t get to see them often, we are close. They are all married now, apar
t from my youngest brother who’s only eighteen. And me, of course. I admit that part of the reason I’m doing this is because I miss my family and long to have one of my own. Not that I expect to have children straight away, but just to have a wife, someone to share life’s joys and triumphs and difficulties and failures with, would feel like the greatest blessing I can imagine.

  I very much look forward to hearing from you again, Amy. May I call you Amy?

  Yours,

  Adam.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I’m sorry, I overslept. I never oversleep.” Adam stopped halfway across the parlour and winced. “That’s not true, I often oversleep, but I just pretend that’s when I meant to wake up. I just don’t usually oversleep this late.”

  Turning from the stove where she was dishing up an omelette, Amy had to stifle a giggle. His hair looked like it had only had a glancing relationship with the comb, only half his shirt was tucked in and one shoelace was untied. He looked adorable.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  He reached the stove. “I’m what?”

  She bit her lip and pointed to his face where small trickles of blood were congealing in two different places.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Is it bad?”

  “It’s only two nicks. Stay there.” She fetched a clean cloth, moistened it and dabbed at his face.

  “I may have rushed my shave,” he said.

  She looked down at the rest of him.

  “Among other things,” he added, tucking the rest of his shirt into his waistband as she continued to clean the blood from his cheek. “Still, two’s not so bad. You should have seen me when I first started shaving. For the first month every morning I looked like I’d been battling herds of porcupines.”