[2015] Cowboy for Christmas

by Christian Michael

  Lillian rolled her eyes at him and sighed. Doc drew closer to her, as if he was about to pull her back from the edge of a cliff and was worried about tipping her over.

  ‘I just couldn’t face it again. Couldn’t face caring about someone and then losing them again.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I never told you this, but I was married before to a wonderful woman named Alma. She died in childbirth, as did our son’ he looked away and tried to regain his composure ‘It took me years to even consider being with someone again and then you came here and you’re just like her. In every way. It’s not that I don’t care about you it’s that I’m afraid I might care about you too much and then I’ll lose you.’

  Doc had probably said more in that one burst than he had in the entire time Lillian had known him. His face was creased with pain and his broad shoulders rose and fell with his laboured breathing

  ‘If you still want to leave, then leave, but please don’t do it because you think I didn’t care.’

  Lillian met his eyes, warm and glinting gold in the sun. The grief and love in them told her that he wasn’t lying, that he really did care for her. Though she couldn’t possibly understand the sadness that would accompany a partner dying, she did know how it had felt to lose Benson and to feel as if she would never be able to care for anyone again. Looking at Doc, she knew that the anger she had felt was an expression of that frustrated love that had nowhere to go. She threw herself into Doc’s open arms and they kissed for what felt like the first time since their wedding day. His strong arms wrapped round her and she felt as if nothing in the world could ever come to harm her again. She didn’t know what life with Doc would bring, but in that moment she knew that she had to trust him. Had to trust that in spite of it all, he was the man that Benson had never been, and perhaps they could save each other from the loneliness they had been struggling to outrun.

  THE END.

  A Rancher’s Love

  Mail Order Bride

  By: Christian Michael

  Chapter One: Party Favors

  Massachusetts, 1859

  “Gracie Noel!” Angela Curtis called from the foyer of the main residence. The foyer stretched the length of the home, from the front entrance to the back staircase that led out to the gardens. On either side of the room, a set of curving staircases led to the second floor where the bedrooms were. The six-bedroom mini-mansion was laid out elaborately with rooms big enough to easily put a large four-poster bed, a chair or two and a dresser and armoire. Each room had its own balcony that overlooked portions of the gardens or the large pond that sat over a large expanse of the property. With four girls to a room, however, it could become unbelievably cramped when everyone was awake together. It made Gracie ever more thankful for the just over five acres of land outside what the house sat on, which allowed for plenty of beauty to behold.

  “Coming, Miss Curtis,” Gracie replied, stepping into the hallway from her room. She walked lightly down the staircase that was closest to her room and met her mother at the bottom.

  “We have company, dear.”

  Gracie looked toward the sitting room to see John Jacobsen and his parents being served by Nelson, the butler. She barely stifled the sigh as she rolled her eyes. John Jacobsen wasn’t any happier to be sitting there, than she was to see him. “Lovely,” she replied sarcastically. She plowed through her dinner just this side of ungraciously and nearly groaned when John asked if she’d like to walk in the gardens. “Certainly.”

  Gracie took John’s arm and as soon as they were outside her family’s residence she dropped her hand to her side. “Thank you.”

  “For?” she asked.

  “For agreeing to this walk. If you’re agreeable, we can talk and tell my parents honestly that we’re just not right for each other.”

  Gracie grinned. Still, she wasn’t sure whether to be offended that he wasn’t interested, or simply relieved. “We’re not?”

  “No offense, Gracie,” he said, his somber brown eyes meeting her pretty gray ones. “But you’re like a hurricane, blowing through and stirring everything up. I’m like a tree, solid, stately, boring. We just don’t fit well together.”

  “Who do you have your eye on?”

  “Marissa Peterson,” he said, his face flushing.

  Gracie knew Marissa well. “She’ll make you a good wife, John.” Taking his arm again they walked and talked, laughing about his parent’s schemes and grinning at each other over past and present loves. After more than an hour though, it seemed appropriate to end the night. “Thank you, John. Contrary to what I first thought, I had a nice time walking with you. Give Marissa my best.”

  “Thank you, Gracie Noel,” John said, kissing her hand in farewell when his parents showed themselves to the door. “I will.” He gave her a wink before turning toward his parents.

  Grinning, Gracie turned to see Angela standing behind her. “Well?”

  “Well what?” she asked, even though she knew where her caretaker was going with her first question.

  “You and John walked for quite a while out in the gardens.”

  “He’s great company,” she said, not committing to more. A tactic she knew would almost instantly rile Angela.

  “And?”

  “And a good friend.”

  “I can’t take this anymore, Gracie. You can’t keep acting as if you’ve got gold coming out of your bottom. You need the security that a man, a marriage and children can provide for you.”

  “Perhaps I’m not meant to marry the gentlemen that come sniffing around me.”

  “Oh, please. As if there are any other appropriate suiters to be found.”

  ***

  Trent Baxter ran a hand through his thick, black hair. He swiped a hand across his sweaty brow, slapping his hat back on his head. Picking up the handles to his plow, he reset the leather reigns over his shoulders and braced himself against the pull of Babe and Blue, his team of huge oxen. They pull the plow easily through the rough ground, ripping it up. This was his third pass today through the freshly ground dirt and hopefully would be his last before he could plant the corn that needed to seed off by the following month if he was going to have a harvest to gather.

  When the team took their last run through the dirt with the plow, Trent found that the planting came easily and by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he’d managed to plant the entire field of corn. Tomorrow he’d start on green beans and peas. The following would be carrots and potatoes. His ranch wasn’t the biggest or most ostentatious in Midland, Texas, but he made good and adequate use of what God had blessed him with.

  He couldn’t necessarily brag about how he’d acquired the ranch, considering he’d won it in a poker game three years before, but he’d turned the land into a beautiful horse and cattle ranch, with enough land in excess to plant crops that would sustain him through the winter months. Looking out over things, he knew he’d have to hire some hands to help him. His business was expanding so fast that keeping up with it was impossible for a man to do on his own.

  Sighing, Trent knew that his choice was either to hire immigrants from Mexico or freed men of color. Being a person not in favor of slavery, the choice seemed clear. Although, needing to hire more than one person, he might just hire a freed man and a Mexican immigrant. He knew the sentiment of the community in which he lived. Slavery was a huge part of what made the southern states successful, but it was something that Trent just couldn’t abide by. No man should have the right to own another in his way of thinking.

  The following morning, Trent made his way into town on Rusty, his bay mare who was nearly at retirement age. She’d been his since he was little and had taken him on more rides than he could remember, always returning him safely home. Arriving just past noon, Trent hitched Rusty to a post outside the post office.

  “Hey Tommy,” he called out, greeting the clerk.

  “Hey Mr. Baxter.” No matter how many times Trent had said to call him by his given
name, the young man never did. Engrained manners he supposed. They weren’t always easy for young ones to let go of, even when they became grownups themselves. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’m looking to hire some freed men of color, maybe some Mexican immigrants as well.”

  “Oh,” Tommy said, his cheeks going crimson. “Well I wouldn’t go around advertising that, but if you’re looking to hire some folks I can help you out. Is there anything else you need?”

  “You know anyone who’s advertised for a wife?”

  “You mean like a flyer around town or one of those high finagled newspaper ones that go back east?”

  “Which one works better?”

  “Honestly I have no idea, but if I was a betting man I’d put money back east. The women around here, if they are single, just seem less than what a man might want in a wife. No offense to the weaker sex or anything.”

  “Alright. I’ll do an advertisement for some newspapers back east.”

  “Fill out what you want to say and leave it there. I’ll take care of it from there.”

  “Thanks Tommy,” Trent said, heading out to contact the man Tommy had given him information on.

  Later that afternoon, he’d been able to hire two freed men and one Mexican immigrant who he hoped would work well, thanks to the information Tommy had provided. If things went well, and he thought they would, Trent figured he’d give Tommy a first pick of his harvest and a new horse as well. Swinging up into the saddle, he rode home with a lighter, more expectant heart.

  Chapter Two: New Horizons

  Gracie sat at the kitchen table two weeks after walking in the gardens with John and knew she had to come up with a plan. If she didn’t, Angela would marry her off to the first even slightly interested party.

  “You really need to start taking this seriously,” Angela Curtis was saying, pouring coffee into her husband’s cup. “It isn’t like you’re going to have a lot of options left if you turn down every suiter that comes your way.”

  “So I should marry for the sake of marrying?”

  “You should marry so that you have some security in the future,” she huffed, clearly exasperated. “Or is it your hope to live at the orphanage forever?”

  “You know I want to marry someday,” Gracie said, a little bit perturbed. “I don’t, however, feel that I should swoon for every man who shows an interest. Do you know how many of them are only looking to make a profit through an alliance with me? I won’t be used as a pawn to make some man even richer than the silver spoon in his mouth.”

  “I give up,” Angela said, tossing up her hands. “Rupert, please tell young lady the sense in picking a husband now versus later.”

  “Listen to her, Gracie. Your money won’t last forever outside the walls of this orphanage. And if you think it’s bad now, just wait until there’s no one to filter those men for you,” Rupert Curtis said. Putting his pipe back in his mouth, he returned to the paper he was reading.

  Gracie sat there for a minute staring at the paper. She skimmed the small print to ease her mind before landing on an interesting advertisement. Apparently a man out west was in need of a wife and mother for his daughter. Gracie couldn’t help the way his plight squeezed her heart. A single man trying to raise a little girl all on his own. When the idea first hit her, she shoved it away as ludicrous. But the more she thought about that man and the little girl who’d lost her mother, the more she felt her heart pull toward them.

  After a week of trying to ignore the way she felt, she nervously approached her father. “Hello, Rupert.”

  “Hello, Gracie.”

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure, sweetheart.”

  “You always told us that you’d set aside funds for our marriages when our time came.”

  “Your parents did, thankfully,” Rupert replied, sitting against the edge of his desk.

  “I was wondering if I could have mine early?” she said, as if the words would explode from her if she didn’t get them out. “We both know that the men here hold no appeal to me. If I don’t do something now, for myself, mother will marry me off most unhappily.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “Travel, some.”

  “Where to?”

  “Texas. There’s a rancher there who needs a teacher for his daughter. I’d have steady employment and with my inheritance I’d be able to settle down nicely. I need to do something that makes me feel as if I have a purpose beyond trying to snag the most eligible bachelor.”

  “Angela will skin me alive if you just up and leave.”

  “Then I won’t tell her. I’ll slip away when you all least expect it.

  “And how do you think that would make us feel?”

  “Then tell me what to do.”

  “Be honest with her, Gracie. She wants what’s best for you, even if she had to be bullheaded to get it. She only does what she knows Gracie and that isn’t a bad thing. It just isn’t right for you is all. With that said, if you give me a week, I will ensure that you have the money to get you there safely. I’m also sending Claudette with you. She can act as your chaperone and help you with the little girl as well.”

  “Thank you, Rupert.”

  Taking his advice to heart, Gracie went in search of Angela, finding her in her sewing room. She knocked lightly. “Come in.”

  “Hi, momma.”

  “You only call me that when you want something.”

  “I want you to have an open and honest dialogue with me, please.”

  “Alright,” Angela said, sitting her sewing down.

  “I’m not going to find a husband among your friends, simply because you want me to,” Gracie started, getting straight to the point. “It’s not that they aren’t nice, wealthy gentlemen. It’s that none of them attract me as more than a friend. Regardless of how you and daddy met, I just…I want more than that. I’ve talked to daddy and he’s agreed to give me my inheritance so that Claudette and I can travel to Texas. A rancher there needs a teacher for his daughter,” Gracie explained, feeling an instant pang of guilt.

  “So that’s your decision?”

  “Yes,” Gracie said, straightening her spine.

  “When will you leave?”

  “A week from today. Rupert said he needed time to get my inheritance ready.”

  “And you’ll remain out there?”

  “For as long as he little girl needs me, yes.”

  “Alright,” Angela said, tossing up her hands. “I can’t keep you prisoner in this house, nor can I forbid you to go. All I ask is that you keep in touch with us.”

  “Of course,” Gracie said, feeling the first stirrings of emotion. She would miss her odd family greatly. She couldn’t imagine how bad it would be if she wasn’t taking Claudette with her. “Thank you, momma.” Gracie hugged Angela tightly before retreating to her room to write a reply to the rancher.

  The letter she posted that afternoon read:

  May 1859

  Dear Mr. Baxter,

  I was incredibly touched by your obviously love for your daughter. To advertise for a wife in hopes of finding a good mother for your child. Let me first say that I am terribly sorry about the loss of your wife. I can’t imagine how much she must have loved you.

  Just so you know, I am a qualified teacher and can start in that capacity in order to build a bond with your little girl. I have no delusions about love and would both embrace it or even just a friend, should you find me worthy of teaching and love your daughter. I figure if we can be friends, we’re pretty well off.

  I will make prior arrangements at Midland’s finest hotel so that my room is ready when I arrive, should you find my reply satisfactory. I await your speedy reply kind sir.

  Your friend in Massachusetts,

  Gracie Madden

  ***

  By the time Gracie’s letter reached Trent he’d poured over hundreds of responses. Apparently the surplus of single women in the east wasn’t to be exaggerated. S
itting down at his kitchen table over breakfast, Trent tore open a letter with a Massachusetts stamp on it. He folded open the letter, already looking for a second or even third page.

  Apparently Gracie Madden liked to get straight to the point. Still, her letter, though short and sweet, had touched his hear. She was the only one to put the focus on what she could give to his daughter. She’d barely even mentioned an impending marriage, but had given attributes that would help his little girl.

  Before he even knew what he was doing, Trent was writing out a reply to her. Grabbing the rest of his biscuit, he headed into town and sent it by telegram. Then he came home to talk to his little girl.

  “Andrea,” Trent called.

  “Yes, daddy?” she said, coming around the corner of the house, her dress already dirty.

  “I have something to talk to you about.”

  “Okay,” she said, sitting down at his feet. At four she was already the most patient child he knew. Lately though she’d started to act more like a boy, rummaging through the dirt for buried treasure. Hopefully Gracie Madden could come quickly and save him from drowning in failure.

  “You know that your momma loves you very much. But she couldn’t stay with us,” Trent started.

  “I know,” she said, her sweet face taking on all the hurt they both felt. “She got sick and had to go to heaven.”

  “That’s right,” Trent said, clearing his throat. “However, God has given us a special blessing. Her name is Gracie Madden and she’s going to be on her way here very soon. Would you like a new teacher?”

  “I don’t want to go to school,” Andrea pouted, her dark hair, so much like Trent’s.

  “Not just school honey. Miss Gracie is going to teach you lots of cool things, like how to do your hair, how to keep your good dresses clean. How to cook and do the chores that daddy just can’t get to.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding slightly more enthusiastic. “Will she teach me how to ride a horse?”