by Faye Sonja
BOOK 1
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b o o k 1
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At thirty-three years of age, Isabella thought she would NEVER MARRY.
But everything changed after the war. . . Everyone - and everything - she loved was DESTORYED, and now she must start again.
Isabella feels UNWANTED, in her old life and she is DESPERATE to find a place where she belongs. Maybe even love. But at her age, Isabella thinks that falling in love is just an impossible dream.
Until she travels to White Elk. Until she meets Kit - a war veteran with only one arm.
What will happen when Isabella discovers that her new husband is a wounded war veteran with ONLY ONE ARM?
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1
Isabella
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“ How could I start over again,
here, even if I wanted to? "
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Around her all Isabella could see was fire, flames that burned so hard they turned blue. Ash filled the air, and there was no sky visible. "Pa!" Isabella cried out, but her voice was drowned out by the sounds of fire crackling, people screaming, and wooden walls splintering before they crashed to the ground.
"Pa..." she tried to call again. "Get out, save yourself; don't worry about the practice, or me!" Isabella knew she was sturdy enough to find her way out of the burning wreckage on her own, but her father was elderly, his bones were weak, and his failing lungs wouldn't hold up under the thick smog and smoke.
But all she could hear was screaming, some of it coming from near, and some from far away, and all Isabella could think was, "Who could be so cruel as to start a battle here, to light a whole town ablaze?" Isabella had already lost two brothers to the war, and now she was terrified she was going to lose everything else she loved. Her ma, her pa, her town. Her medical practice.
"Perhaps he never came into the building," Isabella thought, clinging to this one hope. "Maybe he's already made it out alive."
She needed to get out, but the fog was thick and it blocked her eyesight as much as it clogged her throat. Isabella, a doctor by trade, knew that she needed to quickly find a way to cover her mouth, shield her lungs, and find some material to filter out the smoke so that her lungs didn't fill with ash. She dropped to her knees and ripped the bottom of her long pale blue dress, then quickly made a mask of it.
She knew she needed to get fresh air desperately, that she didn't have long before the smoke choked her. The heat of the flames from twenty meters away was already turning her skin red, but she knew the smoke would kill her before the fire even reached her, if she didn't get out quickly. She only had minutes, perhaps seconds, before her lungs would collapse.
"Pa!" she called again, but there was no answer.
Isabella crawled till she hit a wall. She placed a palm up to it to check the temperature. Warm, but not blazing. She needed to get to the other side. She groped the wall as she stood up, her eyes shut tight due to the attack of smoke, till she found what she was looking for. A window.
Thank you God.
She ripped the material from around her mouth, and instead placed it around her hand. Then, balling her hand into a fist, she smashed through the glass till she had an escape route, and fresh air, at last. Dear God, give me strength, she prayed, as she hoisted herself up, through the window panel, and over the edge to safety.
There were cries as people ran over to her, but Isabella was silent, fallen to the floor, her eyes shut and her body limp, as a deep unconsciousness over took her.
* * *
One Month Later
Isabella took a step gingerly inside the building, which was now barely a skeleton, with only parts of the frame remaining. Even the bare bones of the place seemed as though they would topple over at any moment.
"It's gone. All gone..." she murmured.
Her ma, an elderly woman of almost seventy, placed a shaking hand on Isabella's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my dear..."
Isabella spun around and saw that her ma was weeping. "Oh, don't cry for me, Ma. Or the practice. It can be rebuilt. We lost far greater things that day..."
Her mama squeezed her arm. "I just thank God one of those things wasn't you, Isabella, my darling daughter."
Isabella took a deep breath. She knew it was only by the grace of God, and her medical training, that she'd been saved that day. More than a dozen people had perished in the blaze, including her pa, and some of her cherished patients.
At age thirty-three, Isabella had seen more than her fair share of loss. She'd nursed countless patients through every sort of malady, fevers, pox, and influenza; though many had recovered and made it through to the other side thanks to Isabella's care, there were plenty who hadn't been strong enough, and who had found their peace with God, with Isabella by their side as they took their last breath. Then the war had come and loss become a daily part of life, as half the men in the town had left to fight, and half as many never returned.
But though Isabella was brave, her heart was not hardened, and the loss of her pa had hit her harder than any other.
Surveying her ruined medical practice, for the first time in her life, Isabella felt completely alone in the world.
* * *
Though the sun was high and the sky was blue, Isabella's spirits were low as she swept up the debris from her beloved medical practice, aided by her friend Charlotte, a young woman who'd worked as a secretary for the practice before she'd married.
"I never thought I'd see the place looking like this..." Charlotte murmured, picking through the wreckage for anything that might be salvaged.
"Neither did I," Isabella said. "I'm not needed here anymore, Charlotte. In fact, I don't think I'm needed anywhere." She spoke the words with grace and dignity, but Charlotte was not fooled by the tone. The words themselves were sad, and Isabella couldn't glaze over them with her stoic intonation.
The younger woman put a delicate hand on Isabella's arm. "Oh, that's silly talk," she said. "Of course you're still needed here."
"Why? Who needs me?" Isabella looked at her questioningly. She didn't like being patronized, even when the other person was being well-intentioned.
"Well, I…I suppose..." Charlotte stammered, having not expected such a question. She'd simply meant to offer Isabella a platitude, though she should have known Isabella would not easily be placated by kind words. Isabella was the sort of woman who spoke plainly and freely, and who appreciated truthful speech from others.
"See, there's no one who needs me. Not without the practice to take care of." Isabella looked down at her gloves and adjusted them at the wrists, before looking back up. She set her mouth firm and steady. "I'm not sure what's to become of me, now." She looked away from Charlotte, trying to conceal the emotion in her eyes.
"Now…now Isabella, you've still got your friends, and the Church...."
"But no family, no father, no brothers. And no job," Isabella said plainly. "Those are the facts."
"You may come and stay with Andrew and me for a while," the girl said, and Isabella appreciated the offer, but she shook her head.
"I don't want to put you out, to be a burden."
"You wouldn't be..."
"I would. There, now, there's nothing more to be said on the matter."
* * *
The next day Charlotte came to see Isabella with a note.
"What's this?" Isabella asked, not one to mince words. She liked to get straight to the point, so she had no hesitation taking the letter and quickly turning it over to have a read.
“Well, that’s a preposterous idea,” she murmured, once she’d reached the end. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“Lots of women do this,” Charlotte tried to explain. “Become mail order brides, I mean. The note was posted in one of the wom
en’s magazines I get. I always read them, just for a laugh, for a little bit of entertainment, but this one caught my eye. It seems perfect for you, Isabella."
"No women that I've ever heard of have done anything like this," Isabella said. "And it's certainly not for me, Charlotte, I'm afraid. I'm thirty-three now, far past the age for marrying."
Charlotte took the note back and folded it between her delicate fingers. "But in situations such as this, age is not a big deal. This man seems nice and kind, and he would be good for you. Plus, he is willing to marry you."
"Oh, well, I suppose I'd better leap at the opportunity," Isabella said, and Charlotte was taken back by the sarcasm in the other women's voice. "You don't know that this man is either nice, or kind, Charlotte. What can you tell about him from a letter?"
Charlotte sighed and had to resist the urge to place her hands on her hips. Why did Isabella always have to be so obstinate? She couldn't see what was good for her even when it was right in front of her face.
"Isabella, this is a good opportunity for you. If you won't allow Andrew and me to take you in, what other options do you have?”
“I am thinking about building another practice,” Isabella stated.
“With what money? Where will you get the funds?”
For once, Isabella didn’t have an answer. She stood there as Charlotte continued to explain the situation to Isabella.
“Besides, this town that he lives in, White Elk, is said to be home to many war victims, many men who have been injured or scarred in the war,” Charlotte said meaningfully. “Perhaps you may find some use down there.”
“Really?” Isabella asked. She was interested in spite of herself. She already felt a tugging at her heart. “The name seems a little familiar, actually," she murmured, reaching back for the letter, glancing over the town name written down. "I wonder why I have heard of it before."
When Charlotte didn't answer, Isabella glanced up. "Why, Charlotte, it looks as though you've practically turned white! What is it?"
"Nothing," Charlotte said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm sure White Elk is a perfectly nice place. It's in the Rocky Mountains, and it's barely been touched by settlers."
Isabella frowned. "People do live there though, don't they?" She pointed to the letter. "This man who wants a wife - he lives there, obviously. It's not just him in a cave, all on his own, is it?"
"Not...exactly?"
"Not exactly? Well stop beating around the bush, Charlotte, and tell me what is wrong with this place. It clearly frightens you to even think about it! Yet you'd send me straight there if you had your way, to marry a man I've never even laid eyes on."
"There's more than one person who lives there, yes. It is a town. It's just...the people who live there are said to be strange."
"Strange? In what way?"
Charlotte shrugged. "They say the town is cursed, that there are strange creatures that live there, hidden in the woods. They say that the large lake that surrounds the town is haunted."
"Oh, nonsense," Isabella said. "That's silly superstition." It was one thing for Charlotte to be taken in by such stories - she was young and air-headed, and always had her head buried in one of those silly magazines she read, but it was another for Isabella - a grown woman, and one who practised a science, to be taken in by such nonsense.
Charlotte straightened up. "I knew you'd see it that way. You're not one to believe in such things, Isabella. That's why you'd do so well there."
"Now look, if I don't agree to marry this man, it's not because I've been scared off by some silly rumors..."
"Of course not," Charlotte said, smiling. "You would never be frightened by ghost stories."
Isabella felt cornered. Now, if she refused this man's offer of marriage, it would look as though she was too scared to move to White Elk. But that had nothing to do with it. The rumors and whispers meant nothing to her. Though, now that she recalled, some of the tales were pretty convincing...
She cleared her throat. "Leave the letter with me. I'll think about it."
* * *
"I'm unwanted in this town. No reason for me to be here," Isabella thought that night, as she looked over the few scant items that had been salvaged from the site of the fire. A stethoscope, and a small tin basin, and some metal scissors were all that had survived that terrible blaze.
"How could I start over again, here, even if I wanted to? With only these three items?" With half the town bare - the buildings destroyed, and the men away fighting, it had become a ghost town. Most people had already packed their things in wagons and moved away to the nearest city. Isabella's ma already had plans to move in with her sister - Isabella's great aunt - on a large property thirty miles away. They'd offered to take Isabella as well, but it was no place for her. She'd only be ever-more isolated, and even less useful.
"I need a place where I can rebuild, practice medicine again. A place that needs me as much as I need them."
And White Elk Valley seemed to be that place.
* * *
2
Kit
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“ How could I start over again,
here, even if I wanted to? "
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"Steady on, old man," Jedediah Irvine said. "You sure you ought to be doing that?"
Kit Greegeory snapped his head around, his wood axe balancing in his hand. "Oi there," he said, in a voice that was gruff, but with a teasing tone that only Jedediah would be able to detect. "I'm only eight years your senior. Hardly an old man. And there's no need to worry about whether I'm up for the job," he finished, turning back around to focus on the base of the tree he was chopping.
"Ah, I'm just trying to look out for ya," Jedediah said, as he watched the back of the man who'd saved his life three years earlier. That action had come at a price, Kit's left arm, in fact, and Jedediah watched guiltily as Kit struggled to work the axe with only his right arm.
"Looking out for me, or patronizing me?" Kit muttered, his back still turned to his younger comrade.
"You look tired, Kit. It's been a long day already. I can take over from here, work the rest of the shift if you want to go home and rest."
Kit straightened his back up and turned around, the axe swinging dangerously in the air. "I ain't tired, Jedediah. You think losing an arm makes me tire out more quickly?"
"Well I know it puts a greater strain on you. And I do feel responsible for what happened to you, you know that," Jedediah added quietly.
"Nonsense. It was me who was in charge of all you young boys out on the field. My responsibility is to protect you. So you ain't allowed to go blaming yourself. I'd have done what I did for any of you boys."
"Even Thomas?" Jedediah asked, with a sly grin creeping onto his face.
Kit burst out laughing, glad that the tension had been broken with the topic of their younger friend. Thomas had been just seventeen when they'd gone out fighting, but now that the three of them were back in White Elk, Thomas was gunning for sheriff of the town, getting ideas far above his station, as far as Kit and Jedediah were concerned. "Yes, even Thomas...Though if I'd known he was going to turn out to be so much trouble, or to turn against you and me in the way that he has, trying to take control of this town..." Kit said, trailing off as he looked over his back at the small town they all called home.
White Elk could barely be called a town by most definitions. It had only the most basic of commodities and most of the residents, men like Kit and Jedediah who'd returned from the war, liked it that way. They lived and worked off the land, trading fur and wood from the forest, gathering their own food from the wood and water from the lake. The days were short of sunlight, but hard of labor, and, as far as Kit was concerned, losing an arm was no excuse not to continue putting in a hard day's work.
"Ya know," Jedediah said, interrupting Kit's thoughts. "You, me and young Thomas are going to have someth
ing in common again real soon, remember."
Kit heaved a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. Still can't believe it's really happening. Still haven't quite managed to wrap my head around it all."
"Well, you better hurry up," Jedediah said, picking his axe back up. "Because our wives are going to be here next week."
Kit nodded before returning to work, chopping in silence for a few minutes.
Jedediah noticed the change in his friend's demeanour, and asked, "You're not regretting going along with Thomas and I, are you, and sending for a bride? Because I think it's a bit late to change your mind now."
Kit shook his head slowly. "Not regretting." He sighed as he hit the last bit of trunk that caused the tree to break and fall. He stood out of the way as the tree hit the ground with an almighty thud that echoed through the woods.
Kit stood and admired his own work for a few seconds, glad that Jedediah was there to witness that Kit was still useful, that he needn't be forced into retirement just yet. "Just wary," he continued on, thinking about the bride he would be receiving the following week. He glanced back at the town again. "I just have to wonder what three new woman are gonna do to this place," he murmured. "Some people say this ain't no place for women at all."
"Come now," Jedediah said, chuckling. "There are some women here, Kit."
"Some," Kit agreed, "But not many. And none of them are fancy city girls like the type we'll be receiving."
"Worried they're going to change things too much, old man?"
"Hey, I already told ya, I ain't old. And yeah, to be honest with you. I am."
* * *
The sound of horse hooves thudding against the earth made Kit raise his head. He and Jedediah were enjoying the end of their hard day's work with a brew and a hearty soup, sitting out the front of the old shack that Kit called a house.
