A Christmas Mail Order Angel novella
By Cynthia Hickey
Copyright 2015
Written by: Cynthia Hickey
Published by: Winged Publications
Cover Design: Cynthia Hickey
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this book may be copied or distributed without the author’s consent.
1
1877, Angel Vale, Wyoming
Phoebe Ross smoothed the skirt of her traveling gown for what had to be the tenth time and waited, with no small amount of nerves, for an Alex Vaughn to greet her. She’d been helped from the wagon an hour ago and was the last of the mail-order brides, or angels, as one man called them, to be spoken for. Had Mr. Vaughn changed his mind and left her there to find her way?
Would Phoebe not be given the chance to decide whether or not she wanted to go through with the marriage? Her prospective groom’s letters had been short and to the point, showing him an educated man of few words. Which suited Phoebe fine. She suffered from an infernal bout of shyness and would rather not speak, if given the choice, most times. But, once she felt comfortable with a person, she could talk the hind leg off a mule, her papa had said. Oh, where was Mr. Vaughn?
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked against them, refusing to let them fall, and perched on the edge of her one wardrobe chest, most of which was taken up with a hand-me-down wedding dress from Mrs. Rochester, the one thing left to her from her deceased employer.
She squared her shoulders and fixed her gaze on the one road that made up Angel Vale, Wyoming, and did her best to ignore the curious stares from what seemed like scores of men wandering past.
One of her traveling companions, a tiny little blond, Annelle, if Phoebe remembered correctly, rode past in a wagon with a man. Poor thing looked as terrified as the man beside her.
Phoebe pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed the corners of her eyes. If her groom wouldn’t come for her, she would seek him out. She deserved an explanation before making alternate plans for her future.
She stood and approached a man loitering outside the Underwood Mercantile. “Excuse me?”
He glanced up and down her five-foot-eight frame. “You’re a long tall drink of water, ain’t you?”
Tilting her nose in the air, she drew in a sharp breath. “Could you please direct me to where I might locate an Alex Vaughn? I also need someone to watch my trunk.”
“I’ll watch your trunk. Not doing anything else. Vaughn is right over there.” He pointed to a small shop with a sign that read, “Mountain Gold.”
“Thank you.” Phoebe marched in the direction the man had pointed. Outside the shop, she took a shuddering breath and stepped into the dim room.
It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, then she made her way to a glass counter. A lamp sat on top of the counter, highlighting a wonderful array of yellow and pink gold fashioned jewelry. Behind the counter, a man with tousled hair the color of wheat bent over a delicate gold chain.
She cleared her throat. When he didn’t look up, she tapped the top of his head. “Mr. Vaughn?”
He leaped up. His elbow knocked the lamp. He scrambled to set it right before squinting through a set of magnifying glasses at her. Eyes as dark as the bark on an oak tree peered at her. “Yes?”
She stared at him for a second, then pointed at his face. “I feel as if I’m talking to an owl.”
“Oh. Pardon me.” He whipped the glasses from his face, messing his hair further. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Phoebe Ross.”
He thought for a moment, then dashed around the counter to grab her hand. “My dear, forgive me. It’s our wedding day, and I’ve failed to show.” He tucked her hand in his.
“Sir.” She pulled free. “I beg you to let me freshen up from my journey before our wedding. My chest is in front of the mercantile and holds my wedding dress.”
“You look lovely as you are.”
She blinked back tears again. “I really want to wear the dress in my chest, please.” Surely, he would grant her this one wish. She hadn’t planned to wed. Never thought the opportunity would present itself, not with her having to work for a living. At the age of twenty, she was practically an old maid!
The thought of backing out of their arrangement teased at the corners of her mind. To do so would require her paying back the cost of her passage to Angel Vale. She barely had enough money to purchase a meal. She had no other choice than to marry this man.
“I’ll fetch your trunk.” He dashed away, leaving her standing in his shop.
Removing the pins from her navy blue hat with a curvy feather, she set it on the counter. She peered closer through the glass at the assortment of rings. Quite a few in varying designs and a couple of necklaces. Were one of these rings meant for her finger?
A grunting behind her signaled the return of Mr. Vaughn. She straightened and turned to greet him.
“This is quite heavy,” he said, dropping the trunk just inside the door. Muscles strained the fabric of his white shirt.
“Shall I empty it piece-by-piece to make it easier to move upstairs? You did say we were to live above the shop, correct?”
“For now.” He shook his head, a curl falling forward over his eyes. “I’ll get it up the stairs. Don’t worry.” He grasped the handle and dragged it, banging up a set of steep stairs behind the counter.
With a sigh, and lifting her skirt to keep from tripping, Phoebe followed.
*
Alex Vaughn was a fool. Not only for forgetting to meet his bride at the mercantile, but for stumbling around after laying eyes on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Hair as dark as the night sky, eyes as blue as that same sky in the summer. He’d completely forgotten himself. He continued to berate himself as he dragged the very heavy chest up the stairs.
In addition to forgetting to greet his bride, he’d also not straightened up the one-room living quarters above the shop. Dirty laundry lay strewn over chairs. His partially eaten breakfast still sat on the table. The lovely Phoebe Ross must sorely regret coming to Angel Vale.
He placed the chest at the foot of the bed, then watched as she took a few steps in one direction and a few in another. The place was embarrassingly small. Maybe he should have a proper house built for her before winter set in. “Would you like a house?”
“This is fine.” Without lifting her head, she picked up the plate from the table and set it on the washboard. “I’m wondering how I will fill my days.” She finally cast those incredible eyes in his direction. “Keeping house won’t take me long.”
To be honest, he hadn’t really thought beyond wanting to see one of his creations on the finger of his wife. The men in town had been snatching up the rings for brides of their own, and he’d felt a bit left out. Perhaps he had acted on impulse, but now that he saw Phoebe, he couldn’t imagine not marrying her.
“I’m sorry for the mess.” He rushed around the room gathering up his laundry.
“You forgot I was coming.” The soft, sad sound of her statement ripped at his heart.
“I, uh…” He tossed the clothes into a basket in the corner.
She sighed. “It’s fine. I’m rather forgettable.” She straightened. “I will do your laundry, cook your meals, and help you in your shop. But that, Mr. Vaughn, is all I will do.” Her eyes flashed. “If you do not wish to marry me, please let me know now.”
“I do want to marry you.” He grasped her hand, not blaming her one little bit for being put out. “Very much. I am in total agreement about … that.” He glanced at the bed. “While we’ll have to share, there’s no place else to sleep, that … can wait until you’re comfortable with me.” And he’d managed to correct the horrible wrong he’d done to her. The skin of her hand was so soft a
s to be almost unfeelable. The life of companion to an elderly woman must have been close to a life of leisure. Well, he would not let her roughen such fine skin. Not if he could help it. “I will leave you to change.”
He backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He leaned against its raised panels and closed his eyes. What an idiot. He’d been with his bride less than an hour and already wounded her. That did not sound promising for their future.
He went downstairs to the shop and opened the glass case. From a small drawer in the back, he lifted the ring that he knew was designed for his wife the moment he created it. Alex Vaughn might not be a rich man, but he had found enough gold to start up a business doing what he had always wanted to do … be a designer of fine jewelry. He held up the gold band.
The soft green leaves and pink rose were a perfect complement to the yellow of the gold. A tiny diamond, which had cost him way too much, winked from the center of the rose. He prayed Phoebe would like it and wear it with pride, regardless of how she felt about the man who created the ring.
Maybe he shouldn’t have expected her to wed him immediately upon arrival. Some of the other women were staying in a building erected for them to live in until the time set aside for their wedding. Perhaps, Phoebe wanted to be courted.
He eyed the jewelry supplies. How would he find time for romance and his job?
After what seemed an eternity, the door upstairs creaked open. At first, Alex could only catch a glimpse of white lace. But, as Phoebe glided down the stairs, more of her beauty was revealed.
The form fitting lace dress showed off her womanly curves, while the ridiculously large hat on her head emphasized the curve of her jaw and the softness of her neck. Tiny glass beads winked from the lace around her neck. Truly, he was marrying an angel! For the second time that day, he was speechless.
Phoebe stopped on the bottom step and peered down her cute nose at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Am I that horrible to look at?” Her eyes shimmered.
“On the contrary.” He gave himself a mental shake. “Your beauty takes my speech, my breath, my mind.”
Her cheeks turned the shade of pink in the ring he held in his hand. He slipped the ring into his pocket and crooked his arm. “Will you marry me, Phoebe Ross? Fool that I am?”
Her gaze searched his face. She gave a small nod and slipped her arm through his.
Alex was the luckiest man in Angel Vale.
2
Phoebe realized her frilly, lacy gown might be too much for a town like Angel Vale, but did everyone have to stare so? A flush rose up her neck, settling into her cheeks with a heat to rival the early autumn sun. The dress and hat were all she had left of Mrs. Rochester. That fact alone made them precious to her.
Despite her annoyance at the man who had forgotten her arrival and who didn’t care enough to have their home readied, she pressed closer to his side in an attempt to disappear. Mr. Vaughn grinned like a loon. She straightened.
He escorted her to a raw wood building with a sign stating, “Reynolds, Proprietor”, over the door.
“He also handled all the legal aspects of us men sending for you brides,” Mr. Vaughn said. “He’s kind of a jack-of-all-trades, if it concerns legal work.”
No church wedding. No pastor. Phoebe’s heart fell. No matter. She’d never had special treatment in her life before. Why start now? At least she could take comfort in the fact that her husband was fine to look at, if a bit clumsy with his actions.
She could have drawn a short stick in regards to his outward appearance, which made her sound terribly shallow, but she’d not had much to be happy about since Mrs. Rochester died.
“Ready?” Mr. Vaughn smiled down at her.
She nodded, the words stuck in her throat. She really was marrying a man she didn’t know.
Her groom-to-be pushed open the rickety door and placed his hand on the small of her back. To usher her in or keep her from running?
“Another one?” A rail-thin man with dark, graying hair glared at them from behind a scarred desk. “I’m assuming you’re here to tie the knot?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Vaughn beamed.
Mercy. Phoebe swayed, leaning very unladylike against the wall to keep from falling.
“Nina!” The skinny man bellowed.
A woman as short as he was tall and as plump as he was thin, bustled from a curtained doorway and dried her hands on a towel. “Dear?”
“We need a witness.”
She grinned. “Another wedding? Wonderful! Oh, you poor dear.” She rushed to Phoebe and stretched to put an arm around her shoulders. “My, you’re statuesque.”
She’d been called worse. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“It’s a bit frightening to marry a man you just met.” She lowered Phoebe into a chair. “Rest, while the men settle the bill.” She nodded. “Yes, I felt the same way until I laid eyes on that strapping man over there. It was love at first sight, I tell you.”
Phoebe peered around her. Strapping? The proprietor?
“I’m Nina Reynolds, and that is my Homer.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Mr. Reynolds yelled.
Phoebe’s heart raced. She held up a hand for Mr. Vaughn to help her to her feet.
“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, concern shadowing his dark eyes.
“I don’t remember.”
“Maybe you should eat before getting married.”
Goodness, no. She might back out. Then where would she be? Penniless in a strange town. No, she’d rather marry the handsome stranger than try to find a way to live in a strange town dominated by men.
“Dearly Beloved…”
Gracious, the man had started. Phoebe grasped Mr. Vaughn’s hand, not realizing how tightly she squeezed until he grunted. “My pardon.” She released her grip a bit.
Mrs. Reynolds beamed from Phoebe’s other side and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Phoebe turned to stare. Hadn’t she said they weren’t the only marriage to take place that day? If the woman was so happy, why did she cry?
Mr. Vaughn gave her hand a little tug to divert her attention back to where it belonged. Heavens, she couldn’t breathe. She viewed the room as if through a narrow tunnel.
“Do you have a ring?” Mr. Reynolds looked down his long nose.
“Yes.” Mr. Vaughn dug in his pocket and held out the prettiest ring Phoebe had ever seen.
“Oh.” She keeled right over, landing in a puddle of lace as Mr. Reynolds pronounced them husband and wife.
*
“Phoebe!” Alex knelt at her side. “Would you have something she could eat?” He glanced at Mrs. Reynolds, then scooped his bride into his arms and settled onto a chair, placing her in his lap. “Phoebe?”
She blinked like an adorable kitten. “We’re married?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think it’s time you called me Alex.” He slid the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit.
“Here you go.” Mrs. Reynolds shoved a thick, buttered slab of bread into Phoebe’s hands.
The poor thing ate as if she were starving. No wonder she collapsed. Alex vowed right then he’d take her to the diner for a good meal.
He stood, taking care not to dump her off his lap, and waited while she licked the butter from her fingers before taking her arm in his. “Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. We’d stay and chat, but my lovely bride needs a decent meal.”
Prouder than he could remember being, outside of hanging his shingle outside the jewelry store, Alex escorted Phoebe across the street to the sound of many shouts of congratulations. He worried about his bride’s pale face and subdued demeanor, but figured it was due to a lack of nutrition rather than regret.
Inside the diner, he pulled out her chair, then sat in the seat next to her, rather than across. They were newlyweds, after all. Even if not in the physical sense.
“Do you like your ring? I designed it myself.”
“Oh.” She held out her hand. “It’s ve
ry lovely. You’re a talented man. Is there a lot of demand for jewelry in Angel Vale?”
“Rings are popular right now, with the wedding boom.” He picked up his menu. Was she asking because she was worried he couldn’t support her? “I work my claim two days a week, more if I don’t have enough gold to make my creations.”
“Are you a wealthy man?”
He sighed and stared into her face. “Please, don’t worry about whether or not I can provide for you. I am not wealthy by any means, but I will take good care of you.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks darkened. “I wasn’t insinuating—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t concern yourself. We’re bound to have awkward moments getting to know each other.”
She nodded, then glanced at the menu in her hand when the gal taking their order approached the table. “Tea with sugar and a steak, please.”
“I’ll have the same.” Alex smiled. “We just got married.”
“It’s an epidemic. I’ll be back shortly.” The woman turned and skedaddled to the kitchen.
Phoebe glanced around the restaurant, a faint frown between her eyes.
What was going through her head? She looked quite fancy in her wedding finery, but from the two letters they had exchanged, he gathered she lived a simple life with an elderly employer. Dear Lord, don’t let him have married a snob.
She glanced again at her ring, running a long finger around the rose. Alex held his breath, waiting to see whether she hated it or appreciated his work as she had said. She sighed, and glanced out the window, giving him a view of her perfect profile. Mrs. Alex Vaughn was a beauty, for sure.
“Are you disappointed?” he asked.
“I had hoped to marry in a church.” She cast her brilliant eyes on him. “But, it’s fine.”
“We’ll have a church someday. A school, too.” Alex sat back. “Angel Vale is growing fast with the addition of brides. We’ll be a wonderful place to raise a family someday.” And he wanted children of his own. Sooner rather than later. But, being a man of his word, he would give Phoebe time to adjust before asking for his husbandly rights. It was only gentlemanly of him.
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 9
