Empty.
“Sam! Sam, where are you?”
Grace ran downstairs, and called for Jasper.
“Have you seen Sam? He’s not in his room. I swear that’s where he’s been all day!”
Jasper followed her outdoors, and they both searched for Sam, calling his name and looking everywhere they could think of. After an hour of looking, Jasper called Grace and told her to meet him in the kitchen.
Once inside, Grace broke down into tears.
“Where did he go? What did he do? This is all my fault!”
Jasper held her in his arms, and tried to soothe her.
“Did he say anything about where he may have gone? Think hard. I had friends who would run away from the orphanage all the time when I was a boy, and they always said something about where they were going before they left, even if it was just in passing. Think!”
Grace shook her head. Sam never said anything about where he was going, just that he didn’t like it here.
“He was always saying how he missed his friends back in Boston. He didn’t want to come out here in the first place, and he seems to think that he’d be happy back there. He’s forgotten how miserable he was there, too!”
Grace broke down and sobbed, trying to gain control of her voice so she could talk to Jasper.
“I bet I know where he’s gone. If he wants to go home, you know that’s where he is going to go. You stay here. I can go a lot faster if I am by myself, and I know where to catch the stage.”
“Do you think the driver would have allowed him on the stage?”
Grace was shocked that a driver would allow a child to travel alone. Especially since that same driver was the one that had given them a ride out there to begin with.
“The driver doesn’t care who is on the stage as long as they have a ticket. I know you were keeping your money in your tin box by your bed… if Sam knew it was there, he knew where to get the money for the ticket.”
Grace’s eyes widened when she realized Jasper was right, and she ran to her room to see if the money was gone.
It was.
Her tin box was placed neatly on the shelf where it had always been, but the money inside was gone.
“I told you that’s what he was going to do! Now let me think…”
Jasper paced back and forth in the middle of the room.
“If he left early this morning, he likely got on the stage that was headed for the Dakotas. That’s the earliest one to leave here, and if I leave now I can head them off before they leave that first stop.”
Grace nodded, her forehead was tight with worry. Jasper ran over to her and kissed her on the forehead, then whispered that it was all going to be all right.
“Don’t you worry, I am going to find him, and I will bring him home safe and sound!”
Grace followed Jasper to the porch, and stood on the top of the three steps. She watched him run into the barn, then take off in a flash on his black stallion.
“Please God let Jasper find Sam before anything happens to him, please!”
Grace closed her eyes and prayed out loud, then opened them once more to see Jasper vanish into the distance.
Chapter 8 – Happy at Last
Sam sat on the edge of the bench at the post office. He couldn’t believe he had made it this far. In just a couple of hours he would be in the next post office, then in a couple of days he would be almost home.
I hope Ma is going to be ok without me, but I suppose she has Jasper. She’ll be just fine.
It seemed to Sam like it was taking an awfully long time for the stage to come. He had been sitting here almost an hour. The world seemed so large and unforgiving without his mother there, but the thought of going back didn’t seem too appealing.
“I say sonny, aren’t you a bit young to be traveling alone?”
An old man sat down next to him, and Sam felt shy. He shook his head, and told the man he was fine. The old timer didn’t seem deterred by Sam’s awkwardness, but continued to ramble on.
“I was just like you when I was your age. Didn’t need nobody. My little brother drowned when he was just a boy, and it tore my parents apart. One day, my pa he up and left. Then, I did, too.”
Sam fidgeted in his seat. He really didn’t want to hear the old man’s story, but the man continued.
“I knew it was going to break my mother’s heart to leave her like that, but I didn’t care. I was only thinking about me. My pa was gone, my brother was gone. We were all meat to take care of ourselves. I never saw my ma again.”
“Harold? Is that you! Come on then!”
An old woman from across the way motioned to the old man, and he got up and shuffled away, still talking. Sam was left on the bench, alone with his thoughts once more, but now unable to shake what the man had said.
What if I never see my mother again? What would that do to her? Well, maybe she should have thought of that before she dragged me all the way out here to begin with!
But I don’t want to never see her again. I love her. I just…
Sam couldn’t get the image he had of his mother out of his mind. All he could think of was her sobbing on his bed, wondering where he had gone and what had happened to him. Guilt was starting to cloud in his mind, and he couldn’t shake it.
“What am I doing?”
He spoke out loud, though there was no one to hear him. Then it hit him. How was he going to get home? There wasn’t any stage going back that way for another couple of days, and he had planned to sleep on the stage. He didn’t have enough money for a hotel, either.
Suddenly, Sam thought he heard something. He held his breath so he could hear better, and waited.
He heard it again.
“Sam! Samuel! Where are you?”
Someone was calling his name. Sam rose and looked back on the road. As far as he could tell, they voice was coming from that direction. Suddenly, Jasper appeared, running his horse up and over the hill.
Sam walked out into the rode, uncertain as to whether or not it was really him.
“Sam! There you are! Sam!”
As soon as Jasper saw him, he dug his heels into the horse’s side and galloped him faster into town. The horse hadn’t even stopped before Jasper was off of him and embracing Sam in his arms.
“Oh Sam! Sam! I thought I lost you. We thought we lost you. Sam!”
Sam didn’t know what was happening to him. His mother hugged him a lot, but it had been so long since he had been hugged by his father, he almost forgot what it was like. Jasper’s hug was a lot like this father’s hug, and the feeling that came over him was too much to bear.
Sam broke down right there in Jasper’s arms, sobbing and clinging to him.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking! I’m sorry!”
Sam’s voice was muffled in Jasper’s jacket, but Jasper shushed him.
“Your mother and I were worried sick about you. She loves you, Sam, and so do I. I can’t lose you like this, I just can’t. Please come home with me?”
Sam pulled back and looked at Jasper. His eyes were wide with wonder, and he searched Jasper’s face to see if he was serious.
“Do you really mean it?”
“I do, I love you like you are my own son.”
Sam leaned in and Jasper picked him up he hugged him and set him on the horse, then climbed up into the saddle.
“Let’s go home!”
And they were off.
“Hello to the house!”
Jasper called before they were even to the gate. The two of them could see that Grace had a candle lit in the window, and shortly after he yelled, the door opened and Grace ran out. She ran through the gate and paused for a moment in the middle of the road, then she lifted her skirt to her knees and ran as fast as she could to meet them.
“Mama! Mama!”
Sam squirmed and Jasper let him off the horse, then he ran to his mother and was engulfed in her arms.
“I’m sorry Mama, I don’t know what I was
thinking.”
Sam cried as his mother held him close, and she soothed him.
“All that matters is that you’re home now.”
Jasper came up and wrapped his arms around both of them.
“Home at last! Now, we can officially call ourselves a family… that is… if you will have me?”
He directed his question at Sam, who looked at him from Grace’s arms. He was silent for a second, then he nodded.
“I guess so. You can be my Pa.”
A smile spread across Jasper’s face and he tossed his hat in the air and whooped. Both Sam and Grace laughed, and Grace set Sam down.
“Come on, you two… I think this calls for a celebration.”
Sam placed one of his hands in Grace’s and the other in Jasper’s, and they walked to the house. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Sam felt happy.
He had a family again.
THE END.
Included with this purchase is a collection of Christian Michael Mail Order Bride short stories. I do hope you take the time to read them! Enjoy!
A Bride For A Cowboy
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
New Hope Virginia
January 1866
Karen Jones stood on Pastor Wentworth’s front porch holding the last crate of her husband’s clothing in her arms. The old man smiled kindly, deepening the wrinkles in his face, making him look like a page from an old book.
“These are the last of his belongings. If you could find someone in need to give these to, I would be much obliged, sir.”
“There’s no obligation, Mrs. Jones. Just do well for yourself.” The preacher took the crate and stepped into his house, closing the door with a nudge of his foot. Karen was glad he hadn’t invited her in. She couldn’t stand the pitying looks she was constantly receiving, and they only grew worse when she set foot in the homes of others.
Adjusting her bonnet, she stepped off the porch, ignoring the biting cold of the winter air. Even with all the people bustling about her, Karen felt alone. It wasn’t a new feeling. Since her husband, Peter had passed on in August, loneliness had been her constant companion.
Well, loneliness and Mr. Alexander Laurel. Her husband hadn’t been cold in his grave but three days when Mr. Laurel came to call. Karen had answered his knock on the door in black mourning dress, her eyes red from too many shed tears.
“How can I help you, Mr. Laurel?” Her voice was courteous though she barely managed to keep it steady. Living without Peter had been like living with a bullet in your side. It may not have killed her, but it hurt and made everything difficult.
“Oh, my dear Widow Jones. It is not what you can do for me that has brought me here. It is what I, of the goodness of my heart, can do for you.”
Karen felt ill, as though she would vomit. She held back the urge, however, as well as managing to be polite. Truly, she wanted to slam the door in his face. But that would be of bad manners, and her mother would have been ashamed if she were alive.
“What are you proposing, sir?”
“What I am proposing, Karen, is that I take you to be my wife.” Her heart stopped beating for a long moment as she looked up into the calculating eyes of Mr. Laurel. Some women would say his green eyes were desirable. Others would have swooned at the sight of his gleaming smile and blond hair. But Karen saw the cruelty beneath his exterior.
“I apologize, Mr. Laurel, but I’m afraid I must decline.” Her hand fell to the door handle, preparing to close it. “And I would prefer it if you would refrain from using my given name. Now, I must bid you good day.”
As Karen swung the door closed, it caught on Mr. Laurel’s polished black shoe. The door left a scuff mark, a gray line amongst the lovely shine.
“I must ask that you reconsider, Karen.”
She took a step back, intimidated by the way the tall man leaned over her. He was not a muscular man, but Mr. Laurel was far stronger than Karen could be. A long-fingered hand caressed her cheek, and she jerked away in response. Mr. Laurel smiled as though he were a cat chasing a mouse.
“Do consider the benefits, dear,” he said, his voice like honey and fire. “You are, after all, a woman. What is there for one such as you? Now, I understand your position, and, as you are a rather handsome thing, I would be more than willing to wed you. Imagine, a future filled with delicate tea cups and more money than you could count.”
Karen, quite against her will, did imagine the life described. She pictured living easily, buying her dresses instead of working callouses into her fingers sewing them. She’d never have to work again. But then came the image of a life with Mr. Laurel. She’d seen the way he held himself, as though he were above all others.
What would it be like, to live with such arrogance, such pride? Shaking her head, Karen said, “Good day, Mr. Laurel,” and closed the door. The shock on his face was the last she’d seen of him that day.
Since then, the aggravating man had appeared on her property at least once a week, sometimes daily. It was a nuisance, and all of New Hope was gossiping about the widow Jones and her suitor, how they disrespected her husband by courting before she’d had an entire year to mourn. “How inappropriate,” the ladies said, “that a man and woman should be alone together, and in the home she’s shared with her husband”.
Karen found her wagon, a rickety thing her husband had intended to repair. Of course, Peter, bless his soul, had died before he could. Climbing onto the bench seat, she took the reins in hand. The leather was cold against her bare fingers, and she wished she’s remembered her gloves. They were work gloves, the sort a man wore, but they were warm.
She headed towards her home, thinking about what she had been unable to tell her husband before he died. As she made her way in the wobbling wagon, a hand drifted absently to rest on her stomach, which was slightly puffed out.
Yes, along with all else - her husband’s death, her unwanted suitor, her struggle to make a living - Karen was with child. It was a difficult thing. She was torn between the joy and hope a child brings and the pain of the realization that her son or daughter would never know his father.
Life, thus far, was not what she’d hoped for when she’d danced into a life with the man she loved. Never does anyone say that love does not mean forever. Sometimes, it means just a single year to look back on. Sometimes it means a fatherless child and a sorrowful mother.
And sometimes, love means making a difficult choice. Karen had made hers. Now all she could do was hope it had been the correct choice.
Lone Oak Texas
February 1866
Dear Mr. Remington,
My name is Karen Martha Jones. I found your advert in our local paper here in New Hope Virginia. I’ll not lie; it took a good deal of prayer to bring myself to write to you at all.
I suppose it would be helpful to you if I were to say something about myself, wouldn’t it? I am a widow. My husband, Peter, left us just this past year in the month of August. He fought in the war and was wounded. It taxed his health greatly, and he’d been ill for some time. In honesty, I still did not expect it.
I am twenty-three-years-old. My height is 5 feet four inches. I’m of a somewhat darker complexion, due to my working the land in my husband’s absence. My eyes are a blue I’ve been told is like a robin’s egg. My hair is the color of hay. I don’t know what I weigh, but I don’t believe it should matter to you.
As requested, I am a God fearing woman. Hard work and I are no strangers, and my cooking is rather good. As I’ve been married, I know a good deal of housekeeping.
Should you choose to write back, you ought to know that I have the intention of finding a life-long commitment. For me, love would be the ideal. Should this not be your intention, do let me know. We would still be able to proceed.
Sincerely, Karen Jones
Kade Remington stared at Mrs. Jones’s letter once again. The same combination of excitement and anxiety met him as he remembered the letter he’d writ
ten in return. He had told her he’d be quite interested in getting to know her better through correspondence and that he hoped to wed by autumn if possible.
In all honesty, Kade had resigned himself to the idea that no woman in her right mind would consider marrying him. When Mrs. Jones had replied, he’d been shocked. His jaw had dropped as he stood in the post office.
Now, he was beginning to worry some. It had been nearly a decade since he’d come to Texas and half that long since he’d left his father’s ranch. It had been a dark place for him. When he’d finally left, he never looked back.
Kade hadn’t been within hearing distance of an unmarried woman in five years or so. He’d been nineteen when he’d last attempted courting, and that had been a mistake. It had been six years since then, and he’d never thought of marrying since. But one day, sitting alone at his dinner table, eating bread that was flat as paper, he’s started to feel lonely.
Maybe loneliness wasn’t the best reason to start courting through letters. Perhaps he was insane to even consider ordering a bride as though she were a piece of furniture. But he knew it was the right thing. And something, maybe God, told him that Karen was the right person.
New Hope Virginia
May 1866
Tears rolled down Karen’s face as she waited for the train to arrive. She couldn’t help it, really. Every day, there seemed to be a new reason to cry. Today’s reason was the way she looked. Her stomach was large enough that she seemed to be carrying fifty pounds of flour in her bodice. She wasn’t sure exactly when it would be time for the baby to . . . arrive, but it would likely be when she’d reach Texas in a week or so.
[2016] A Widow's Love Page 3
