Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set

by Darlene Franklin

  “Maybe I was a coward when I wrote the letter, but this coward realizes he is willing to venture that something might come of this. For me, for us.” He touched her hair and Sophia shivered.

  She knew he had to have a measure of courage to write the first letter to begin with. Something inside him had wanted a wife. She said this aloud. “But you said you were in want of a wife.”

  “I am. Was. I don't know. See, I've said it. I was thinking about companionship.”

  “If you want companionship, get a dog. You can think of yourself all you like and it will not matter to the dog in the least.” She bit back more words. Truth be told, she was angry with herself, for wasting both their time and money. Back she would go, to the mill where she would pray out her frustrations and tell the good Lord exactly what she thought of Matthew Thomas right now.

  She picked up her skirt, turned to stride off and away from him,

  A pair of muscular arms encircled her. Matt spun her back to face him. He pulled her close.

  “Sophia—”

  And then he was kissing her. At first she wanted to pull away. Ezekiel had never kissed her before like this and it awakened a part of her she didn't know existed. She kissed Matthew back, not caring that although they weren't on the main part of the street, they could be seen from the street by passersby easily enough.

  They sprang apart. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears.

  “I—I must go.” She shot toward Main Street and this time escaped his hand reaching for hers.

  “Sophia, I'm sorry.”

  She ignored him as she headed for the mill. No, she wasn't sorry. Not in the least.

  #

  He'd just kissed Sophia Webster. While he'd never courted anyone, he'd sneaked a kiss or two back in the day and his lips had remembered exactly what to do. He'd never heard a complaint so he supposed he did a good job of it. Then, and now.

  But a man didn't just snatch a kiss from a woman, especially not one like Sophia Webster. Matt stared off, away from the Angel Vale's main street and toward the rolling hills beyond them.

  A man ought to be respectful and not just take a kiss, or anything else, from a lady. Yet a fellow couldn't help himself sometimes.

  He wanted her to know how he felt, that he cared, he didn't want only companionship out of their marriage, but more. He wanted to wake up to her each morning and be as close to her in every way possible, physically too. Isn't that what marriage was partly for?

  He figured she wasn't of childbearing years anymore and it didn't matter to him, the older he became. Should they have a child within a few years, why, Matt would be an old man when the child grew. Would he even be around long enough to see the child grow up, before he headed on to Glory himself?

  Matt shook off his thoughts. He needed to get to the livery. If Travis was having a good day today, Matt could interview him about the new horses he was training and find out about the horses he had for sale. One thing everyone needed in Angel Vale, to accomplish anything, whether it be ranching, farming, or mining, was a good horse.

  He walked around the corner of the building and headed into the office for his notepad and pencil. The newspaper wouldn't write itself. He didn't expect Sophia would be back, anytime soon. Who knew how long this mood would last? Of course, he was the one responsible for putting her in said mood.

  His shoulders drooped as he silently corrected himself. No, it wasn't a mere bad mood. Sophia wasn't being moody like his mother. The letter had hurt her. The letter's purpose was to give her a reason to stay in Maine and not bother coming to Wyoming. A letter that never made it to its destination, yet made it to the recipient in an odd mistake.

  He took a moment to pause and say a prayer before doing anything else. Jake, his friend, had turned into quite a preacher and if Jake told them anything Sunday after Sunday, it was the value of saying a prayer when faced with a situation and relying on guidance from God above.

  “Lord, You know I'm not good at praying. I'm a better writer than a talker. But please, help me with Sophia. I want her to stay because she wants to, not because she has to because of the winter. I—want her beside me in life, in this newspaper, in our work together. I'm sorry I kissed her, well, the way I did, without asking. I'm sorry I hurt her. Please, show me how I can fix this. Amen.”

  Chapter 7

  Sophia thought of little else but Matthew's kiss in the days that followed. The fact she couldn't stop thinking about it, showed how much it had impacted her. While she and Ezekiel were a married couple in every way, the physical aspect of marriage had never been one of pleasure for her. Matthew's kiss, however, ignited something inside her. Was it wrong of her to want a man's touch—specifically, Matthew's?

  She had no one else to talk to about this and didn't think it proper to ask Becky. Sophia left the general store with her purchases securely wrapped, although she might have told Jake not to worry about the wrapping. She'd be using them soon enough. The wrapping, however, would keep prying eyes away from what she'd bought and also keep the questions away.

  Then, there was the letter all but dismissing her from becoming a mail-order bride to begin with. Yes, he said he'd changed his mind. How many times had he done that? Worse, how could she believe his sincerity now?

  Reading the letter and allowing its words to sink in hurt her far more than the kiss had thrilled her. She only saw one solution. She would leave.

  Angel Vale had been a mistake, the newspaper—all of it. This was too much change. Back to Merville she would go. But she had to get to Cheyenne first. Someone had remarked once it was a faster ride on horseback. So purchase a horse she would, then ride out a first light tomorrow. No matter if there was a little snow on the ground. There was talk of bad weather coming in before Christmas and if she were to leave, she needed to do it now.

  Her heart ached. She had never run from anything in life and she hadn't planned to start. Everyone saw the calm and serene Sophia, the Sophia who knew exactly what to do.

  But truthfully, she hadn't known what to do since stepping off that wagon in front of the mercantile. Other than throwing herself into the work of writing for the newspaper, she hadn't been certain of much else.

  “Mrs. Webster, good afternoon.” The waitress from The Eatery nearly bumped into her along the street as Sophia walked along in her haste.

  “Good afternoon.”

  “I wanted to say, thank you for writing the article about The Eatery.”

  “You are quite welcome.”

  “The place has had a turnaround and I believe it is partly thanks to you.”

  “I was glad to help. I do believe, though, the new menu and excellent cooking along with your service have helped the restaurant as well.”

  The woman blushed. “Thank you, though. People can talk, and it's not in a good way. I didn't think it was fair, and I didn't want to lose my job if the place closed.”

  “Well, like I said, I was glad to help.” She wanted to hurry, less more saw her and wondered about her purchases. Unless Jake said something to someone else, no one would know.

  “Pardon me for asking, but is everything all right, Mrs. Webster? You look a mite peaked.”

  Sophia chose her words carefully. “I'm not feeling well today. I'm heading back to the mill house now.”

  “That might be a good idea. I'll say a prayer for you, that you feel better soon. We need you.”

  “Thank you very much.” After a smile to the other woman, Sophia continued along her way.

  We need you.

  Did Angel Vale really need her?

  She quickened her steps to the mill house. The promise of snow hung in the air. She could tell after her more than forty winters in Maine. Winter here might be drier, but snow was snow. The sooner she got to Cheyenne, the better. After that would come Denver, and the rest of the journey East by train. She had no idea where she would stay in Merville, but the life she knew there she could handle.

  #

  Matt stopped by the mercantile, no
t because he needed anything in particular, but he needed to see Jake. He knew something was still wrong with Sophia, but she wouldn't share it with him. Another of the mysteries of a woman. He asked how she was, and she told him she was doing well, thank you very much. He had apologized over and over. He had taken her to supper at the Eatery. He gave her a multicolored scarf he'd knitted himself of scrap yarn. It was originally meant to be a Christmas gift. Maybe he should have bought her some jewelry instead.

  He entered the store, the bell clanging over the door as he stepped inside. Today must be a slow day. Likely everyone was out, getting more work done before the snow fell.

  “Well, Matt, haven't seen you since Sunday church meeting. Everything all right?”

  “Not sure. Which is why I'm here.” He glanced over his shoulder. What he wanted to talk about wasn't for anyone else's ears.

  Jake gestured to the counter. “Grab a stool. We can talk until someone comes in, if you'd like.”

  Matt complied. He stared at the front door. “It's Sophia. I kissed her.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, have you two decided on a wedding date? Reverend Reed will be here in time for Christmas. I'm sure he'll be glad to perform a wedding ceremony.”

  Matt shook his head. “No, we haven't. That's the problem. I. . .I love her. I can't imagine her not being here in Angel Vale.”

  “Well, that's good. I'm glad you love her. Does she know how you feel? Does she love you, too?”

  “I. . .I think she does. But she runs. Runs away with her feet and she runs away in her mind from me.” Matt frowned. “I ran too, at first. Figured most women were like my own mother. Probably the real reason I wrote that second letter, the one Sophia should have never laid eyes on.”

  “The letter. Yes.” Jake looked thoughtful.

  Matt had never told anyone else what he was about to tell Jake. He let out a deep breath. “I wrote the letter partly because of my mother. She was moody, temperamental. I know most ladies might be accused of having those qualities sometimes. But my mother's moods swung back and forth like a watch on a chain. Happy, angry, happy, angry. I never knew how she'd be, day to day. Neither did my father. He told me she was high-strung.” A memory, long buried, resurfaced. “She died young, by her own hand, during one of her low moods. I was nine and I was the one who. . .found. . .her.” He fell silent. His father had raised him to watch out for women. He'd steered clear of romantic entanglements, anything serious, till now.

  “That must have been terrible for you.”

  “It was. I blamed myself for years. 'Course I know now, have known, it wasn't my fault. Always figured I'd skip getting hitched, if women were like that. Until this mail-order angels idea. Until Sophia.”

  He should have never written that letter. In a moment of weakness, caught up with the endeavor of bringing the mail-order angels to Angel Vale, he had succumbed to the idea of building a real home with someone. Now that he had the possibility in front of him, it scared him silly.

  Jake nodded thoughtfully. “Have you prayed about the matter?”

  “I have. Not sure what to do to convince Sophia.”

  “There may not be much you can do, except show her how you feel and give her time. When a lady is ready to make up her mind, she'll make it up. Sophia Webster strikes me as the kind, when she does make up her mind, there's little anyone can do to change it."

  “True enough.” Matt gave him a sideways look. “How'd you get so smart for a young'un?”

  “I can't take the credit for it. I give God the credit. That, and what I've been through while Becky and I have been courting.” Jake frowned. “Say, Sophia came by today, made an odd sort of purchase.”

  “Ah, well, I did tell her if she needed anything, to charge it to my account.” He refrained from sharing about the nest egg Sophia told him about when she first arrived.

  “She purchased some men's clothing, but it's not in your size. The britches alone were a good six inches too short.”

  Matt scratched his chin. “Huh. Wonder what that's about? I can't think off the top of my head why she would do that.”

  “No harm intended, I'm sure. It seemed a little odd to me. Like I said, too small for you, and I didn't think it was your birthday or anything.”

  “No. Not my birthday. Thanks for letting me know. I don't mind her shopping, but I agree, that's a strange purchase.” He tapped the counter. “Well, I need to oversee the printing. I'll have a stack of papers ready in the morning, for the wagon heading to railroad.”

  “I'll see you then.” Jake paused before continuing. “It was a good idea, sending the newspaper for distribution in Cheyenne. Matter of fact, a furniture maker is interested in selling some of his pieces here in the mercantile. I'll get a cut of the profits. So, I owe that to you.”

  “I owe that to Sophia. I balked at it, at first. But maybe someone will see what we have to offer here, and join us.”

  "She's a smart lady. I hope she decides to stay in Angel Vale. Not that she'll have much choice pretty soon, what with winter ready to set in, in earnest."

  "Before I get up my courage to speak to her, I ask for your prayers, my friend. I intend to not only propose marriage, but that we will set the date, before Christmas."

  "You think she's ready? I know she said she would give it until spring, but if she's not ready you could end up being disappointed."

  "Jake, my friend, that is a risk I have to take. I love Sophia Webster."

  He left the general store and headed back toward the news office. When he arrived, the room felt strangely empty. Usually Sophia was here. Had she left a note? He strode around, looking to see if there were a piece of paper anywhere. He found a small scrap of paper on the counter and beside it was a handkerchief. He unfolded the handkerchief to find some gold coins. What on earth?

  He looked at the note. "Here is a little something for the newspaper. Sophia."

  While he appreciated the coins, the timing of it puzzled him. Why didn't she just give him the coins herself? Was it pride, or was it the fact she knew he would probably refuse the gift? Of course she had already left for the day, her duties completed. Also, he did tell her she could return to the mill house to help one of the ladies sewing her wedding dress. As the weddings had continued that fall, the air of anticipation grew thicker for the next bride.

  He wasn't sure if he and Sophia would be in the lineup. Judging by her reaction to the kiss, he'd definitely blown it. Since that time, she had remained civil toward him and he toward her, of course, and he didn't even think of trying it. Well, maybe once or twice he'd thought of it, but he did have enough respect for her as a lady never to attempt to steal a kiss again.

  He continued setting the type for the newspaper, thankful Sophia had already completed all the articles. This was going to be the best edition yet. He said that about every printing, but as he printed his and Sophia's articles sharing the news and events of Angel Vale, it seemed the others in town looked forward to the new publication as much as he did.

  Tomorrow morning, he would speak to Sophia, as soon as he figured out what he would say.

  Chapter 8

  Sophia dressed in the darkness, trying not to disturb any of the others sleeping in the mill house and she prepared to leave. Soon, she would be riding at the edge of first light and be well on her way to the railroad station before anyone knew she had gone.

  She recalled the waitress's words from the night before. Angel Vale needs you. The woman was mistaken. Angel Vale really didn't her, not after all. She could not help build a new family among the ranks of its residents, nor did she think a match between her and Matthew Thomas would work. No marriage built on reluctance could.

  Even as she pulled on her boots, she realized that she if she let herself, she could indeed love Matthew Thomas. He was a good, godly man and while they had their differences of opinion, they did work well together.

  But reading the letter, followed almost immediately by Matt's stolen kiss had been too much for her. The recollect
ion of it and her feelings would not leave her alone the days that followed. She couldn't forget the gentle teasing from some of the yet unmarried brides, who had exclaimed over her flushed face upon returning to the mill house that day. They'd coaxed out of her what had happened.

  Sophia carried what she could in her satchel, leaving the rest behind the other ladies to use. She had left her wedding dress with a note for the other women to see. Perhaps someone else could transform it into something lovelier. She would never need to wear it, and someday she would have other dresses to wear. In the note, she told them she would pray for them all and hopes that God would bless each and every one of the unions.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she set the letter on the table where they would take their meals together. Someone would find it when they rose to make the morning coffee. For now, though, she needed to leave before someone woke up and she would need to explain herself and why she was wearing men's clothing.

  She snatched up her satchel and without a backward glance, she left the mill house and closed the door softly. She made her way to the livery where Travis was already up and waiting as promised with a horse saddled for her. Sam was gentle and docile and strong, Travis assured her.

  Sophia secured her satchel on the back of the saddle, then mounted before she began to cry again. What was wrong with her? She was well practiced at holding things together. She'd had to. After Ezekiel's passing and the subsequent months that dragged on, she learned that although Ezekiel had provided for her with a tiny nest egg, there was a limit to his love because she had not born him a son. She had fallen short as a wife and as a woman. Yes, she had learned how to hold things together, long before Matt.

  She put her focus back on the well-worn trail in front of her. Sam plodded along, steady and sure, just as promised. His breath and hers made white puffs in the chilly morning air. She realized that for the first time she called him Matt to herself. It always been Matthew before.