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Brides Of Grasshopper Creek
A Clean Historical Mail Order Bride Collection
Faith-Ann Smith
Charity Phillips
Copyright © 2018 by Faith-Ann Smith and Charity Phillips www.hopemeadowpublishing.com
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, with the exception of brief quoted passages left in an online review. This book is a fictional story. All characters, names, and situations are of the author’s creation. Any resemblances to actual situations or to persons who are alive or dead are purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; this copy is not available for resale or to give to another reader aside from any transaction through Amazon’s e-book lending program.
Contents
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride: Hannah
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Caroline
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Louisa
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Emily
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Charlotte
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride: Betsy
Charity Phillips
A Mail Order Bride For Edward
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride: Rosanna’s Story
Charity Phillips
A Mail Order Bride For Jacob
Faith-Ann Smith
Sophie’s Christmas On The Frontier
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride Lizzie
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Rose
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride Margaret
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride: Jane’s Story
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride: Rebecca’s Story
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride: Rose’s Story
Charity Phillips
A Mail Order Bride For Jeremiah
Charity Phillips
A Mail Order Bride For Lewis
Charity Phillips
A Mail Order Bride For Isaac
Charity Phillips
Montana Mail Order Bride Madeline
Charity Phillips
Montana Mail Order Bride Julia
Charity Phillips
Olivia’s Christmas On The Frontier
Charity Phillips
Abigail’s Christmas Gift
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride: Adeline’s Story
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride Delia
Charity Phillips
Mail Order Bride Catherine
Charity Phillips
Letters From The Gold Rush Wagon
Charity Phillips
Preview of Mail Order Bride Carrie
Mail Order Bride: Hannah
Brides Of Grasshopper Creek
Faith-Ann Smith
Mail Order Bride Hannah
Independence, Missouri – 1863
Hannah is thrilled to finally be on her way to the Frontier. She and her new husband Bradley have been planning this trip for as long as they have been planning their lives together it seems, and now that they've left Independence, Missouri on the wagon train west, it appears that all of their dreams are coming true.
Within just a few short weeks of leaving, however, the harsh realities of life on the wagon train strike Hannah hard and she is forced to realize that the adventure she envisioned with Bradley is not at all what it seemed. Her struggle comes to a peak when Bradley suddenly dies of cholera and the wagon train leaves her behind.
Though overwhelmed by recent events, she musters the courage to take the reigns of her wagon in order to keep up with the others, but ends up on the side of the road. There, she finds another wagon and, assuming it to be abandoned, is shocked when she peers inside and discovers two bodies. From their appearance, she immediately knows that they encountered the same fate as her husband. Letters clutched in the woman's hand reveal that she was meant to be a mail order bride to a man named Aaron in Bannack, Montana.
Out of desperation to push forward and continue West, Hannah finds herself assuming this woman's identity so that she can continue on the train. What will happen when she arrives in Bannack, and meets Aaron for the first time? Will she manage to create a new life for herself despite her grief, or will her true identity be revealed, dashing all hopes of a bright future?
Chapter 1
February, 1863
Dear Diary,
Well, here we are. After nearly two months of traveling, Bradley and I have finally arrived in Independence, Missouri. It is so hard for me to believe that we are here. It seems like I have been dreaming of this for so long and now it is really happening. We will spend two weeks here gathering all of the supplies that we need and ensuring we are ready, and then it is off to Montana with the wagon train.
I am so excited to be on this journey at last. We had only been married a few days when we set off for Missouri so it seems like our entire marriage has been a grand adventure. I can only imagine what else awaits us on our westward journey. There is so much that is unknown to us and part of me is fearful that we may encounter dangerous situations and unimaginable challenges along our way. I believe, though, that we have been put on this path for a reason and that with faith and perseverance, we can get through it.
I pray for strength for myself and for Bradley as he prepares us for the trip. We knew that this is what lay ahead of us well before we married, and we did as much as we could to get ready then, but it seems that there is so much that we simply could not do until we were here in Independence along with all of the others that are preparing for their own adventures to the west. I have met so many wonderful people already and we have only been here such a short time. Most of the families will be heading to Oregon and California. Only a few of us are planning to separate from the rest of the train to go to Montana.
Bradley says that Montana is the right place for us to start our lives together. It is still such a new town that there are many opportunities and since they discovered gold in the nearby mountains last summer, the population has been growing and things are only going to get better. I have heard some mutterings that Bannack is rough and frightening, however. It makes me nervous that we may be going into a town that is so beyond anything that we know, but I must put my trust in my husband and know that he will do what is best for us. I can only hope that some of these women who I have met will continue to be my friends and my support through the months of travel ahead. I have a feeling that I will need all of the encouragement that I can get as I face this challenge. I believe that all of us will.
As I write this I am sitting in our hotel room trying to stay warm. It is a bitterly cold day and even though there is a fire blazing in our fireplace, the room is chilly. As thrilled as I am to be here, and as much as I am looking forward to finally getting on our way and seeing what the future holds for us, I find myself wondering about little things. If I am so cold now sitting in this lovely hotel, what will it be like in the wagon on the coldest days. We cannot simply light a fire in the back of the wagon to keep ourselves warm. I made sure that I packed plenty of warm clothing and have been
stitching quilts as quickly as my fingers would work for weeks before we left for Independence, but I worry about Bradley's hands as he guides the oxen. I hope his gloves will be warm enough to protect him.
He is out again today shopping for supplies. It seems there is a never-ending list of things that we need to bring along with us. Most of what he purchases he packs right up in the wagon that is waiting for us outside, but he has brought a few of the supplies inside and our room is beginning to look like its own tiny general store. It makes me laugh when I see the bags of food stacked right beside my trunk and stacks of quilts. I wonder what else we could possibly need. I know the men spend much of their time talking about the best way to prepare for the trip. There is much debate over how much of each type of supply you should bring with you and how much weight is too much weight for the team of oxen to handle while keeping up the pace of the train.
I think I will go downstairs and ask if there is coffee that they can bring up for Bradley when he returns. I am sure he will be quite chilled and I do not want him to get sick before we leave. Any delay would put us at risk of missing this year's trains all together or could mean encountering poor weather on our way. I hope that the coating on the cover of the wagon will withstand any storms we may meet along the way. It seems silly to be putting all of my reliance for staying warm and dry in a sheet of canvas, but Bradley assured me that it has been well treated to ensure the water will not come through on us.
I would never tell him this, but it is a little bit exciting to think about spending out nights out in the wagon. My brothers used to go camping in the woods when we were young, but I was never permitted to go with them because my mother said it was not proper for a girl to camp. I was always envious of their fun, so now I feel like I am getting my own chance in a way. I may not be eager to have the rain coming in on me, but if the weather is mild and we are safe, I look forward to the novelty of calling the wagon our home for the trip.
I only hope that I can maintain this positivity for the months ahead.
Hannah
Chapter 2
March 1863
Dear Diary,
Has it truly only been one month since we left on our journey? It seems that we have been traveling for as long as I can remember. This journey has been far more difficult than I could have imagine, but we are determined to persevere. Of course, we do not have much of a choice when it comes to whether we can continue. It is either keep pushing forward, or turn back and try to get back to Independence, but what would happen when we got there? Would we stay and try to make a life there with the little money we have left, or would we attempt to return home? If we did that, would that not just be the same as continuing our travels forward?
I am starting to wonder if I should have ever suggested that we start our marriage by immediately traveling to Montana. Bradley thought that we should spend the first year at home getting better prepared and then leave next spring. I told him that I thought it would be more fitting for our brand new life together as a married couple if we started our journey as quickly after our wedding as possible. I worried that if we waited a year, we would never actually get started. A year spent at home could mean a newborn by the time we started on the wagon train, and I would not want to have a new baby with us during the difficulty of this trip.
Perhaps I was wrong to think that. Maybe it would have been better to wait and prepare more than to have jumped into this with only a few months of preparation. Is this my first lesson on trusting my husband and being willing to follow him where he guides me? I have been praying for strength, guidance, and humility, but everywhere I look I see only the greatest struggles and hardships that I have ever experienced. I feel that I might just be too weak for this. Perhaps I am not one of the women who I have tried so hard to be. I admire the ones who I see persevering so strongly, staying silent and steadfast even after walking from the time they awake until the time they fall into bed hours after everyone else. Do I just lack the strength that I need to handle this?
I really do not mean to complain, Diary. I do not want to appear fussy or that I am not trying. I am giving everything that I have inside me and continuing to pray that the beginning of the trip, the time of getting accustomed to the change in daily life and letting go of everything that I have known, will be the most difficult. Maybe soon I will fall into the rhythm of life as these other women seem to have and I will be more joyful about the trip.
It seems that each day I face a new challenge and am even more afraid of what may lie ahead for us. This morning we had been traveling for a few hours when we came upon a hill. At its base were the castoffs of travelers from the train that went along before us. People realized that their teams were too tired and weak to manage the weight they had put into their wagons and were forced to throw items out in order to lessen the load so that they could get over the hill. The men felt that this would be a good place to take a quick rest and we stopped among the tossed-aside items.
Some of the women and children delighted themselves in going through chests and exploring piles of house goods, clothing, and other belongings while many of the men claimed tools, wagon parts, and other useful items. I could not bring myself to join in. It felt like they were ravaging the memories of these people and taking pleasure in their misfortune. My heart broke for the women who had to leave behind their hope chests and stacks of books, and the children who would have no bed to call their own because their cradles were left by the side of the road.
I know that worldly possessions are not the joy of life, but these were items held dear to the people forced to leave them. It must have made them feel like they were losing some of the last remnants of the life that they knew before their trip. For many of them, they will never again see the friends and family members who remained in their hometowns. Having to cast out gifts or items that were owned by loved ones must have been like a reminder that these people were no longer a part of their lives.
As everyone finally prepared to go up the hill and continue on with our progress for the day, we noticed a small group of crosses planted into the ground. They seemed to be made of broken down pieces of wagons and sat at the end of rows of large rocks. The names and dates etched into the crosses told us that these were graves. On one of the rocks was a single word: cholera.
I am afraid now, Diary. I knew that this journey would not be an easy one, but I never thought of lives being lost so early on, or so many at once. There were no birthdates on the crosses to tell us the age of the people who lay beneath them. Could they have been my age? Bradley's age? Now that they had to be left out where only wagon trains can find them, has anyone told their families? Who will remember them?
Hannah
Chapter 3
April 1863
Dear Diary,
I do not even know how to begin to write down what has happened. It is as if I can keep it from being true if I simply do not write it down. If I do not record it, if I do not acknowledge it, I can continue to pretend that it is not real and that all of this has been some horrible nightmare from which I will eventually awake, and when I do, Bradley will be beside me. He will cradle me to his chest and kiss my forehead like he has each morning and tell me that everything will be alright.
This, however, will never happen. Never again will I see his sweet face in the predawn hours as he still lies sleeping and I try to get up to prepare his breakfast before he wakes up. Never again will I have the opportunity to rest my head on his shoulder when I am feeling tired in the middle of the afternoon and ride beside him on the bench at the front of the wagon. Never again will I be able to hold his hand while we watch the sun set across the prairie.
My Bradley is gone. It happened so quickly that I did not even have a chance to understand what was going on or prepare my heart. After seeing those graves early in our trip, it became more common until it was a nearly everyday occurrence. It seemed that every time we stopped, we were among the belongings that others had to throw aside and the grav
es of those that seemed to have been cast out of the train just like the extra books and excessive tools and other supplies. It did not occur to me until more than a week after we saw those first graves that many of those belongings that had been thrown aside had likely belonged to those people. The travelers had had to not only bury their loved ones, but then put their belongings by the side of the road and carry on.
Just two weeks after seeing those first graves, people on our train began to fall ill. It happened so suddenly. Everyone seemed healthy and then one evening a woman I did not know well started to show symptoms of a strange illness. She said her stomach felt unwell and left the circle of the train to relieve herself, but did not return for quite some time. When she did, she seemed weak and lethargic. Her husband tucked her into bed in the wagon, and within a few hours, her husband was severely ill as well. By morning, both were dead.
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