[2016] My True Love

by Christian Michael

  Amy held onto her and carried her to the door, looking for Jason. She couldn’t see well in the dark, but she could see that there was something on the ground in front of the barn.

  “Jason!” Amy yelled. She hurried back into the house, and laid Mary on the bed.

  “Stay here, I have to go get your pa!”

  Amy ran out into the night, over to where Jason lay on the ground. She turned him over, and he groaned.

  “I don’t know what happened… I suddenly felt light headed… and…”

  Amy shushed him.

  “Come on, I have to get you up.”

  She struggled beneath his weight, but together, they were able to get him into the house. Amy Anne guided him to his room, and laid him on his bed. She put her hand to his forehead, and turned to go.

  “Where are you going?” He slurred, trying to stir.

  Amy shushed him and told him to lie still.

  “I’m going to get the doctor. You are Mary are sick. Stay here, I’ll be back as quickly as I can!” She pulled her shawl tightly around her and headed for the barn. Within minutes she had a horse saddled and was heading for town as quickly as she could possibly go.

  Mary slowly opened her eyes. Amy Anne was in her room, sponging off her forehead and neck.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” She said with a smile.

  “I have been praying that you would wake up soon. How are you feeling?” Amy put her hand on Mary’s forehead, and Mary closed her eyes.

  “Where’s my Papa?” She asked, weakly.

  “He’s in the other room, asleep. You and your Papa have been very sick for almost 2 weeks now, but the doctor says you’re doing better.”

  “Is my Papa ok?” Mary asked, suddenly trying to get up. Amy Anne held her down, gently calming her.

  “Your Papa is very sick Mary, but we pray to God that he will get better.”

  Mary started to struggle, tears running down her cheeks.

  “No no no! Don’t let my Papa die! Don’t let him die like my Mama!” She cried.

  Amy Anne shushed her, and lifted her close into a hug. For the first time, Mary didn’t try to pull away, but rather she sank into Amy’s arms and sobbed.

  “God hates me! He let my Mama die! I don’t want Him to let my Papa die too!” She sobbed.

  Amy Anne stroked her hair, and said softly. “God doesn’t hate you, Sweetheart. He is going to take care of you.”

  Mary was sobbing.

  “But why did my Mama die? Why did my Papa get sick?” She was struggling to get the words out, but Amy continued to hold her.

  “I don’t know why that happened, Little One, but sometimes bad things do happen. My parents were killed when I was a little girl, close to your age. I don’t know why, but I know that God still loves me, and He still takes care of me, just like He is going to take care of you.”

  Mary looked up at Amy, tears still in her eyes.

  “Your ma and pa died?” Her eyes were wide as she spoke, and Amy nodded.

  Mary didn’t say anything, but laid her head back down on Amy Anne’s lap. For a long time Amy sat there with Mary lying on her lap, until finally, Mary spoke.

  It was so soft that Amy could barely hear it, but her eyes filled with tears at the 2 little words Mary breathed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 8 – Love at Last

  Jason lay in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t need the doctor to tell him what was wrong with him, he knew what it was. This was the illness that had claimed the life of his wife, Lucinda. Scarlet Fever.

  “It sneaks up on you, taking you by surprise,” the doctor had told him when his wife had fallen ill. “There’s not a lot we can do for it, but we are doing all we can.”

  Now, those words flowed through his mind every chance they got. It didn’t matter how much money he had, it didn’t matter what he wanted to do with his life, it didn’t matter what he had done with his life. He was now sick, and all he could do was pray that he would get better.

  Every now and then Jason would wake up and Amy would be in his room. She would be placing a cold washcloth on his forehead, or preparing a bowl of broth for him to eat. Every time she was in there, he would ask her about Mary, and every time he asked, Amy told him that she was doing a little bit better.

  “I don’t know if I could go on if I lost Mary,” Jason told her as she fed him a bowl of broth. “Ever since her mother died, she has been the light of my life. I wanted to be able to give her everything, I wanted to be able to bring you into our family and make you happy, too.”

  He would try to continue, but Amy would always quiet him, and tell him he needed to rest. She knew what he was trying to say, and she knew that he often forgot that he had tried to say it all before. Delirium would take over, and he would rant and rant if she let him.

  Amy Anne spent her days going back and forth between the rooms, and keeping the farm running. She would do the chores and take care of the animals, then she would go inside and take care of Mary and Jason.

  Amy didn’t know what she would do if she lost them. They were the closest thing she ever felt she had to a family, and the idea of losing them was crushing. Every day she would dutifully go into both of their rooms, hour after hour, morning, noon, and night.

  Whether it took a day, or a year, Amy was going to do everything she could to get them well again.

  Jason and Mary’s recoveries were slow. Jason got a lot worse before he got better, but Mary had a slow and steady recovery from the beginning. As soon as she was able, she helped Amy Anne with the chores around the house, and with taking care of her father.

  Amy Ann was careful not to push Mary in her interest in what she was doing, but she was always careful to answer all of Mary’s questions about her and to tell her about anything from her own past.

  Little by little, Mary started to spend more time with Amy. She would follow her around the house when she was home from school, and she would walk with Amy Anne to and from school. She even started going to church with Amy on Sundays.

  “I think Papa would like to go to church as soon as he is able. Mama… I mean my real mama… she liked to go to church, and me and Papa used to go with her. Papa stopped when Mama died though.” The more comfortable Mary was becoming with Amy, the more of a glimpse into her past Amy was able to get.

  Amy Anne didn’t ask her a lot of questions. She didn’t want Mary to feel as though she were prying, but she did always remind Mary that her mother loved her very much, and that she was glad she got to be in a part of Mary’s life, too.

  Jason clucked to the horses, making them pick up their feet faster as they headed home. It was the first Sunday Jason felt well enough to be up and out of the house, and Mary begged him to join her and Amy Anne at church. Reluctantly, he agreed, and they had gone.

  Amy Anne for the first time in her life felt completely comfortable sitting with Mary and Jason. Mary seemed to be completely happy to stand next to her, and to hold her hand when they were getting ready to go.

  Now, she rode behind them in the wagon, standing up in the back with her hand on each of their shoulders.

  “I was thinking,” Mary said, breaking the silence with her shrill little voice.

  “Yes?” Jason asked, looking back over his shoulder at her.

  “Amy… can I call you Ma?”

  Amy Anne and Jason looked at each other, Amy put her hand over her heart, and gasped. She felt her eyes well with tears, and Jason smiled.

  “I would love that,” she said.

  Mary squealed and sat down in the back of the wagon, content to now look at the rocks that slid back and forth as her father drove over the bumps in the rode. Jason put both of the reins in one hand, and used his other hand to cover Amy’s.

  For the first time in her life, Amy felt that she belonged. Jason and Mary, they felt like her family. She felt like she was a part of theirs, and she didn’t feel like she could ever go anywhere else.

  That lonely feel
ing was gone for good.

  Amy Anne had finally found love.

  THE END.

  Desperate for Love

  Mail Order Bride

  CHRISTIAN MICHAEL

  Chapter One

  Laura was bent low before the fire, stirring the coals to coax whatever heat there might be left when a flurry of boots sounded on the broken step leading to her porch. She pulled her shawl more closely around herself and pushed her ebony-colored curls behind her ears. She had already taken her hair down for the night and was in her bed gown; it was much roomier for the child she carried. As she rose, she had to catch the edge of the mantle to steady herself. The baby was beginning to make her a bit dizzy if she rose quickly.

  Midnight blue eyes huge, she started toward the door as the pounding began, picking up a cheap metal picture frame of her wedding picture and secreting it behind her skirts.

  “Yes?” she called through the door.

  “You Laura Tyler?” came a gruff voice and she heard the rumble of other voices as well.

  “Yes, who are you?” she called back.

  “We got your husband, Wendel,” came the voice. “He’s dead, ma’am.”

  Laura’s knees went weak and she unlocked the door as she sank to the floor. The men pushed open the door around her and she saw her husband, Wendel, slumped on the porch, blood still wet and staining his vest. There was no mistaking it; he was dead.

  Tears rose to her eyes and she gasped, trying to absorb what was happening; a protective hand lying over her swelling belly. One of the men frowned and bent down to help her to her feet and then to lie back against the threadbare settee next to the fire. As she pulled her shawl up to cover her eyes, the man peeked into the only bedroom and said, “Put him on the bed, fellas,” and motioned them through the doorway.

  “What happened?” Laura managed to ask between sobs.

  “Your man palmed a card, ma’am. Joe Stevens doesn’t think too kindly of that and it cost your man a bullet. Sorry, ma’am…you bein’ with child and all,” he finished and tipped his hat as the men disappeared out the door, closing it gently behind themselves. A clatter of boots and they were gone.

  Laura sat for a bit on the sofa until she felt herself ready and then she went in to look at Wendel. How she had loved him when they first married. She realized she was still holding their wedding photo in her hand and lifted it to gaze upon it. He was so handsome she thought to herself. When did things begin to go so wrong? I know he wanted the baby…but we have so little money. That’s why he cheated, she concluded, but knew in her heart that her husband would not have needed an excuse to cheat at cards. He came by the habit quite naturally.

  Chapter Two

  After Wendel’s funeral, Laura had some hard decisions to make. Wendel hadn’t had a job for some time and what little money he had picked up here and there, he lost or drank away. He had disgraced himself and wasn’t welcome in any gentleman’s club or even in private homes. Laura had picked up a little money on the side herself, but she’d put it away for the baby’s needs. Babies weren’t cheap.

  She counted the bills and coins in the tin now and realized there wasn’t enough to keep things running much longer. She felt the baby kick just then, as if urging her to do something. What can I do? she thought to herself. She had no family and Wendel’s only sibling, a brother, lived somewhere in Texas and she had no idea how to even get a message to him about Wendel’s death.

  There really weren’t any jobs in town for a woman, much less a woman who was expecting. She wasn’t sleeping well; the worry was making her even more sickly than the strain of carrying a baby. She began to have a dreaded fear that if something didn’t change, and quickly, she’d lose the baby altogether.

  To raise her spirits, she got dressed and walked slowly down the street toward the café on the corner. There, she ordered a cup of coffee and watched the waitresses bustling about, their apron pockets jingling with the change from tips. The atmosphere was sparse; it was the sort of place meant for the working class. She was fairly sure that at one time or another, one of those ladies in aprons had known a similar dire set of circumstances.

  “Here you go,” came the cheery delivery of her coffee order. “Anythin’ else?” The woman’s face was kind, almost genial in a mothering sort of way.

  Laura took a chance. “Well, I know this is very unusual, but you see I’m in a bit of a fix,” she began, her hand inadvertently going to cover her tummy.

  “Ahhh, I see. Kiss and gone, eh?” said the waitress, nodding with a knowing look in her eye.

  “No, no…nothing like that. I’m widowed, you see,” Laura began. “My name is Laura Tyler and my husband was shot last week…” she continued.

  “Lidie’s my name,” said the waitress and looking back toward the kitchen, she pulled out the chair opposite Laura and sat down, the coffee pot still in her hand. She leaned forward, “I know who you are…I’m sorry. We all heard. A few of us even…even…” she blushed, “knew him,” she finished. Hurriedly she added, “He came in here a lot to drink coffee and sober up, if you know what I mean,” she went on.

  Laura nodded sadly. “Yes, I can imagine. But you see, he didn’t leave me with anything, in fact there’s a bit of debt. I have a baby coming,” she paused and touched her tummy again, “and I’m looking for work. Is there any chance someone here could use me? Maybe to wash dishes in the back, somewhere that I’d be out of sight?”

  Lidie frowned, pushing away a lock of dyed red hair that had fallen over her forehead. “No, honey, not a thing. We’re all scrappin’ here, if you know what I mean.” She felt sorry for Laura. At least the women here weren’t expecting. Suddenly she had an idea. “Look, wait right here!” she jumped up and soon returned with a newspaper. Opening it, she found what she was looking for and folded the paper in half, pointing to an ad in the classifieds section. “Read that, honey. It might be the only thing you can do.” With that she returned to the kitchen and Laura was left alone to read the classified for her fate.

  Chapter Three

  Two weeks later found Laura perched on the worn velvet seat of a train coach, bound for Colorado. In her hands was a crumpled newspaper, an ad circled and notes written in the margin.

  Laura thought she would be ill; she was so nervous. Lidie had changed her life; and that of her unborn child. The newspaper had displayed an ad for mail order brides. Women were rare in the West and plentiful in the East. Thus, a booming industry had sprung up to fill the need and that’s what brought Laura to where she sat at that very moment.

  She had responded to the ad immediately and included a photo; in fact, it was her half of the wedding photo, the only photo she owned of herself. The reply was quick in coming—a telegraph came within a few weeks and included a money order for her fare, travel expenses and a small allowance for clothing. Laura had sold everything she had to settle Wendel’s debts and boarded the train for the West. At some point midway, she would transfer to a coach, for the train went no further west.

  In her hand was also a photo of the man who would become her new husband. His name was Rory Newton and she could tell even in the worn photo that he was a fine figure of a man. Nevertheless, Rory had attached a letter to his offer and stressed that he was not necessarily only looking for a wife, but for a helpmate to tend to the house, cook, do the laundry and who had some knowledge of chickens and gardening.

  This was not a dishonorable, or even unusual situation for women who were no longer “fresh off the vine.” These women were generally decent, widowed or never married and sometimes had a young child or two. They had been left with few options to provide for themselves and the Western men had need of a helpmate to keep their farm and homestead going. Thus, it was more of a business arrangement, even though marriage would be involved for propriety’s sake.

  Laura tried to nap, knowing that once she was on the coach, it would be very difficult to sleep. Sleep was long in coming, however. The train pulled into a small station and Laura notice
d a man making his way down the aisle and took a seat directly opposite her. He nodded and removed his hat in respect.

  “Ma’am,” he murmured.

  Laura nodded.

  He settled his luggage beneath his seat and put his hat back on and pulled it down low over his brow to block and light and activity going on around him. This gave Laura a chance to surreptitiously look him over. He was tall, well over six feet, and most of his height was in his legs. His clothing was neat and well-made, but his hands were rough. This was not a businessman; of that she was certain. Laura had noticed that he was cleanly shaven and tanned and knew that meant he probably worked out of doors. She could feel herself blush at her thoughts. He must have felt her eyes on him for he quietly said, “Name’s Dallas; Ben Dallas.”

  Laura knew it wasn’t proper to strike up a conversation with a strange man, particularly if one was travelling alone, but her position in the social rankings had fallen dramatically as of late and she knew that as a mail order bride, she had entered a new low. However, it would be a long trip and she could use some company to steady her nerves.

  “I’m Laura Tyler, Mr. Dallas. It’s a pleasure,” she leaned forward and extended her lace-gloved hand.

  As she leaned forward, Ben couldn’t help but notice her neckline and the way the thin gold chain with a tiny locket lay in the crevice between her bosom. He felt stirred by this…and it was a feeling he hadn’t felt for some time. He found it rather pleasant.

  He tipped the brim of his hat. “Miss Tyler,” he acknowledged.

  “Mrs. Tyler,” she quickly corrected him, her hand going inadvertently to the rise in her tummy.

  Ben noticed the gesture and even though her skirts were full, he could see what she protected. It generated a protective sense within himself at the same time. Where is all this coming from? he wondered. Is it that blue-black hair or those sapphire eyes?