Drina’s Choice

by Agnes Alexander

  Drina’s Choice

  Agnes Alexander

  Drina’s Choice by Agnes Alexander

  Copyright© 2014 Agnes Alexander

  Cover Design Livia Reasoner

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  To get away from an abusive home, Drina Hamilton answers an ad for a mail-order bride, not knowing the only reason Aaron Wilcox agreed to marry a stranger was to save his ranch.

  .

  Chapter 1

  Drina Hamilton clutched her worn reticule tightly to her chest as the train rattled across Arizona, but the sound of her father’s words still pounded in her ears blocking out the noise of the metal monster’s wheels on the track. Was her father right? Was she making the biggest mistake of her life by deciding to accept the proposal of an unknown cowboy? Was this choice too much of a gamble for a woman who would be nineteen in three weeks, though she didn’t look it? Dare she believe that choosing to marry a stranger was the answer to her prayers? Not only for herself, but for Hannah, too. No matter what her younger sister told her, Drina was sure the girl’s life with their Aunt Verbena was not a happy one. But for several, not clearly explained, complicated reason, the youngest Hamilton daughter had to stay there.

  To calm her nerves, Drina took the letter she kept secure in her drawstring purse, unfolded it and read the words for probably the hundredth time.

  Miss Hamilton, as my ad in the Savannah newspaper stated, I’m helping my nephew look for a suitable wife who has an unsullied reputation, who can read and write and give him children. Since your letter stated you qualify in these areas, I had you investigated and found you to be everything you said you were. My nephew has decided you are the one he will marry. As soon as you let him know you are coming west, he will wire you the money for the train trip to Phoenix and sufficient funds to cover your traveling expenses, plus the ticket for the stagecoach to Hatchet Springs. If you find he pleases you as husband material, he agrees to help you with your sister, Hannah, as you requested. The day you leave Savannah, please wire him the time and date of your expected arrival and you will be met at the stage stop in Hatchet Springs. Walter Wilcox for my nephew, Aaron Wilcox.

  There was no declaration of the possibility love ever becoming a part of the marriage in the future. Of course, she didn’t expect this. She was as much a stranger to Aaron Wilcox and his uncle as they were to her. But they could have said they were pleased I accepted the marriage proposal. Unquestionably, they couldn’t know how hard it was for me to make this choice.

  Then again, there was no actual proposal. His uncle’s letter simply said she qualified and her expenses west would be paid. By implying the nuptials would only take place if bridegroom pleased her, had the uncle as much as said she had a way out of the marriage if she chose to use it? She knew she would never wrangle her way out of the arrangement since he agreed to help with Hannah. Yes, Drina wanted this marriage for herself so she could get away from the drudgery of living with and looking after her father, but Hannah was the important factor in this arrangement. Drina would do anything to help her baby sister’s plight.

  But, what if her future husband didn’t like her when they met? Her father could be right. The man might take one look at her and decide she was not what he wanted as a wife. She’d been told often enough that she was too little to do any man any good—as a wife or as the mother of his children, which must be sons, according to her father.

  “You’re just like your ma,” Burl Hamilton had flung in her face many times. “She was a tiny little thing like you and she could only give me daughters. Then she up and died, and left me with you three gals and ain’t a one of you ever been any help to me. A man is a fool if he marries a little wife. Most of them are all right to look at, but they ain’t fit for bearing boy babies. Your looks might be good enough to turn the heads of some men, but ain’t nobody in Georgia ever gonna marry you just because you have yellow hair and blue eyes and a purty face. They want a strapping woman who can work the farm and give them sons.”

  But Drina thought her father had to be wrong. At least, she hoped he was. She counted on the fact she’d seen many small women in town who were mothers. Some of the women had several children and some of those youngsters were boys.

  Her father would go on. “Your sister, Lydia managed to snag a husband, but look at him. He ain’t much of a man and he probably don’t want no babies ’cause he makes his living playing cards in a saloon. If he ever decides he wants a son he’ll find Lydia probably can’t give him one ’cause she’s little, too.” He’d then come out with one of his hideous laughs and add, “He’ll throw her out one day and she’ll more’n likely come running home. And if you act a fool and go to Arizona to marry this stranger, the same thing’ll happen to you. Ain’t neither one of you worth the food it’s cost me to raise you.”

  The last time he was on this tirade, Drina had become angry. “What about Hannah? She hasn’t cost you a cent since you gave her away when she was a toddler.”

  “Toddler, my foot. She never toddled—so she don’t count. I got rid of her when I saw she was never gonna walk. What good’s a woman who can’t walk?” He shook his burly head at her. “Now you, on the other hand, though you ain’t near as good as Lydia was afore she married, you’ve got a good place to stay and all you have to do is to keep my house clean, wash my clothes and cook my meals and you want to go running off to some god-forsaken ranch in Arizona to marry a stranger who won’t want you when he takes one look at your size. Them western men like strong women who can do all that ranch work. You ain’t got no sense at all.”

  At the time, Drina ignored him as she often did. Now, she made the choice to push away the memory of how he had often spoken to her and think of her sisters, instead.

  The three of them had one good thing going for them. Their mother had been a stickler about education, and she demanded her children learn not only reading and writing and working numbers, but she wanted them to study classic literature. When Drina and Lydia visited their baby sister, Hannah, who lived with their wealthy aunt in a stately home in a better section of Savannah, their aunt always insisted the three of them spend some time in her library with her leather bound books. Though they resented it at the time, they were now thankful for the world it had opened to their imaginations.

  Hannah, two years younger than Drina, had lived with Aunt Verbena Wedington since she was four years old. Drina tried to visit the girl as often as she could get into town because she knew the now-seventeen-year-old wasn’t happy with their selfish widowed aunt, and she wasn’t sure their aunt hadn’t in some way abused the girl. At least, Drina knew Hannah had her books and her sewing. Handy with a needle, the youngest Hamilton sister spent most of her time sewing beautiful clothes for the ungrateful aunt.

  When Drina told Hannah about the impending wedding, Hannah somehow managed to find the material and the time to make her a lovely wedding dress. It was now tucked away in Drina’s trunk and she hoped to wear it—if Mr. Wilcox liked her and wanted to marry her when they met. Oh, how she hoped he would. Then, she would be able to get Hannah away from their strict and unloving aunt and settle her elsewhere; but, at this time, there was no other alternative for the young girl. Their father refused to let her come home every time it was mentioned, and Lydia couldn’t look after her in the saloon setting. She’d tried
to get Hannah to come live with her only last year, but the court said it wasn’t a fitting place for a young lady. The marriage to Aaron was Drina’s only chance of rescuing the girl.

  As for the oldest sister, Lydia, it wasn’t surprising when she had left the farm three years earlier and married the first man who asked her. She was three years older than Drina, and she had been doing most of the work in the house since their mama died when Hannah was a few months old. Though Drina had tried to help at the time, there was just too much work for the two young girls – Lydia at eight, and Drina at five. When Lydia left, Drina did as much of the work as she could, but it was never enough to please their demanding father.

  Lydia now lived in town and worked in the saloon where her husband had a partnership. She was happy that she’d made the decision to leave, though she felt guilty for putting all the work on Drina’s shoulders. She knew how hard Drina had it on the farm and had offered her a job on several occasions, but Drina declined. She knew she wasn’t cut out for the kind of life most of the women in saloons lived.

  Then, Lydia had slipped her the newspaper ad asking for a mail order bride. Drina had shaken her head and said, “Lydia, this would never work. I can’t go running off to the middle of nowhere to marry a man I’ve never seen.”

  Lydia cocked an eyebrow at her and said, “Think about it, Drina. Could being married to a stranger who offers you a good home and a housekeeper to keep it clean be worse than living with Pa?”

  Drina thought about Lydia’s statement for a week, but she couldn’t see herself marrying a man she had never met. Then on a Thursday night, Pa had come in mad and half drunk on his homebrew. When Drina set the supper stew she’d managed to find enough ingredients to make before him, he took one look at it and became enraged.

  “This slop ain’t fit to feed to my hogs. You’re just a worthless moron who can’t cook a man a decent meal.” He grabbed the bowl of stew and flung it across the kitchen, then reached out and backhanded her across the mouth.

  Drina stumbled backward, but said nothing. If she spoke, she’d only make matters worse.

  He continued his outburst. “I wish you’d been the one to run off and got married instead of Lydia. She weren’t quite as worthless as you are, and at least she could cook.” Still furious, he grabbed the horsewhip that always hung by the back door.

  Drina made herself as small as possible, because she knew what was coming. It wasn’t the first time he’d used the whip on her. She only hoped he wouldn’t hit her too hard this time.

  He raised the whip and hit her back as she turned away from him. He cursed, struck her a few times, then threw the whip down and stalked out of their rundown shack.

  Huddling in the corner and hoping he’d go back to his jug and drink himself into a deep sleep, she realized Lydia was right. This was the moment she made the choice to answer the ad. Anything would be better than living with this man.

  Three months had passed since the incident, and as the trees grew bare of leaves and the weather began to turn chilly in Savannah, she was on her way to Arizona to marry Aaron Wilcox, a man she only knew from the one letter his uncle had written and the short wire the prospective groom had sent her with the train ticket and the money for the trip west. It said: You will be met at the station, AW.

  * * * *

  Aaron Wilcox walked into Walter Wilcox’s hotel room without knocking. He threw the letter toward his uncle and said in a hostile voice. “I sent the money and she’s on her way.”

  Walter picked up the missive and took a deep breath. In a calm voice he said, “If you’ll give her a chance, she’ll make you a good wife, Aaron.”

  “A wife I didn’t plan on or want at this time in my life.”

  “No, you’d rather have a woman like that Carlton dame you moved into your house a few months ago. You have no business messing with trash like her.”

  Aaron frowned, and there was hate in his eyes. “At least she was somebody I enjoyed having in my bed at night. I doubt I’ll ever want this southern bell you’ve chosen for me.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that.” Walter had a smirk on his face. “She could turn out to be everything you’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

  “I don’t believe that, and if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand this obsession you have of finding me a wife. What the hell does being married have to do with running a successful ranch?”

  “A man needs a good wife at his side to be a companion and to give him children. You do want children to leave the ranch to, don’t you nephew?”

  “Of course I do. Someday. But I’m only thirty years old. There’s plenty of time for that.”

  “At thirty, I was married and had three children.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to end up like my brother.”

  “Pa did all right.”

  “Of course he did. He married a half-breed whore like your Miss Carlton, and when she had a son she didn’t want to take care of, she walked out on your father, leaving him to raise the boy to hate all women.”

  “I don’t hate women. I love them. Just ask any one of them at The Swinging Door Saloon.”

  “That’s what I mean, Aaron. You’re throwing your life away with women like them. That’s why I demand you marry a good woman. I had this Miss Hamilton checked out thoroughly. She’s a fine woman, and just like you, she has a terrible father in her life and needs to get away from him. It will be good for her to come west and start a new life with you.”

  Aaron shook his head. “If Pa hadn’t left the ranch in your hands, you’d never be able to make me marry this stranger.”

  “You know your father would’ve never been able to keep the ranch if I hadn’t bailed him out of debt and held the mortgage over his head. Left on his own, he’d have lost everything and there’d be nothing left for you. As for you, young man, things might be going all right now, but if you keep living the life you’re living, you’ll lose it all in the end.”

  “I’ve worked my tail off on my ranch and I don’t plan to ever lose it.” Aaron’s voice was full of rage.

  “I don’t see it that way. You’re already headed down the wrong path with your life.”

  When Aaron didn’t answer, he went on. “I know you’ve worked hard and have almost paid off your father’s debts to the bank and to me, but that’s not enough. If you want to me to sign the ranch back to you, you’re going to have to start living your life more productively.”

  When Aaron still said nothing, Walter bent and picked up the letter that lay on the floor between them. He opened it, and a smile crossed his face as he read. “So, she’ll be here next Thursday afternoon?”

  Aaron still didn’t answer and his uncle went on. “It’s too bad I can’t stay for the wedding, but I have to be in Houston.” He looked up at his nephew. “You will send me proof of the marriage as we agreed, won’t you?”

  “I’ll send it.” He glared at his uncle. “And as soon as you get the proof I’m married, I’ll expect you to send me the deed to the ranch with no more of your stupid demands. If I don’t receive the papers from you in a month signing the ranch back to me, I’ll start divorce proceedings immediately.”

  “You’ll get your deed, Aaron. You’ll also thank me for demanding this of you some day.”

  “Like Hell, I will.” Without another word, Aaron turned and stalked out of the room.

  Walter shook his head and muttered, “Oh, yes you will, Aaron Wilcox. You may not think so now, but you will. I’m sure of it.”

  * * * *

  The Swinging Door Saloon was almost deserted when Salty Andrews watched a furious Aaron Wilcox walk inside. He followed.

  Aaron went directly to the bar and demanded a whiskey. He didn’t notice the slightly built man with the beard and the brown hat pulled down over his wrinkled forehead standing behind him until the man spoke.

  “You look ready to kill somebody, Boss.”

  Aaron whirled around. “What the hell are you doing in the saloon this early in the d
ay, Salty?”

  “Had to come to town to get some supplies for Beulah. They told me at Ragsdale’s to come back in an hour and they’d have the things gathered up and ready to go.” The older man pointed at Aaron’s broad chest. “What about you? I know you like a drink now and then, but ain’t eleven o’clock in the morning a little early for you, too?”

  Aaron looked down at the glass the barkeep sat before him. “You’re right. It is too early for this.” He pushed the drink back. “Give me a cup of coffee instead of this, Hal.”

  Hal got a cup and poured it full of strong coffee. “Here you go.”

  Aaron plunked enough money on the bar to pay for both the drink and the coffee. “What are you drinking, Salty?”

  “I ain’t ordered nothing yet. I just walked in behind you.”

  “Give him a cup of coffee, too, Hal. If it’s too early for me to drink whiskey, it’s too early for him.”

  “Sure, Mr. Wilcox.” He poured coffee for Salty.

  “Let’s get a table. I don’t like to drink hot coffee standing up. I might pour it down my almost clean shirt.” He chuckled. “Besides, you look like you need to set down, too.” Salty headed to one of the round tables in the room.

  Pulling out a chair, Aaron said, “I’m not very good company right now. You may want to drink your coffee and get out of here, Salty.”

  “Must have been to see your uncle again.”

  Aaron nodded. “The devil was delighted that Miss Hamilton is headed here to marry me. She’ll be here on Thursday.”

  “Ain’t you a little excited, too?”

  “Hell, no. The last thing I want is a wife. This woman will probably be some ugly spinster who couldn’t find a man in her home town. Knowing my Uncle Walter, that’s just the kind of woman he’ll pick out for me.”

  “Maybe not. Think positive. She could be one of them southern beauties.”

  Aaron snorted. “That’s not very likely.”

  Salty laughed. “Again I tell you, think positive. You did say she was from Georgia, didn’t you? They grow some purty women there.”