Mail-Order
Revenge
A novella
Angela K Couch
This is a work of fiction . Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Angela K Couch
Cover by Jessica Sprong – Design Junkie
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
[email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
Mail-Order Revenge/ Angela K Couch
ISBN: 978-1530914739
ISBN: 1530914736
History—Romance. 2. Christian—Inspirational. 3.Mail-order Bride—Western
All scripture is taken from the KJV of the Bible
First Edition
14 13 12 11 10 / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Corina and Kelly
Contents
Title Page
Copyright page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
New York, 1882
It had to be him. Elizabeth Landvik’s pulse sped as she read the advertisement yet again. Twenty-seven. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Tall. A description that could fit any number of men, but how many Axel Forsbergs were there in the territory of Arizona?
The sun made a steady retreat behind the row of buildings to the west, stretching shadows across the neat rows of ink marking the newspaper. Elizabeth rolled the paper and passed the boy a nickel. He usually let her read for free, but she wasn’t ready to hand this one back to him.
Tightening her grip, she quickened her pace across the street to the boarding house where she shared a room with four other women who worked with her at the sewing factory. No wonder she’d found herself glancing over advertisements beseeching ladies to go west. This is what her life had been reduced to. Drudgery and cockroaches. And all because of the Forsbergs.
The stairs creaked and moaned as she vaulted up them. A piano’s tink-tink followed her, souring her mood more. Laying her fingers across ivory keys and expressing herself in music had once been her passion, but her piano had been one of the first items sold from their estate.
Elizabeth slapped the door behind her and dropped onto her bed. A curse rang out from the other side of the small room where the newest addition, a woman in her late thirties, tried to sleep. “Have some respect, will you?” she snapped, pulling her pillow over her head.
Respect? Elizabeth ground her teeth as she turned away and smoothed the newspaper open beside her. Respect was a forgotten notion reserved for the upper and even middle-class. Perhaps she’d never been as grand as some of the ladies she saw riding by in their fine carriages, but she had once been a part of genteel society.
She pulled the pin from her hat and dropped both on the small chest containing all that remained of her worldly possessions—everything the auction and creditors hadn’t stolen. Next she loosened the buttons of her jacket and slipped it off, her gaze never wandering from the paper. Why would an attractive and wealthy man like Axel Forsberg be so desperate for a bride as to write such an advertisement? No doubt there were more men than women that far west, but still…
Elizabeth didn’t bother lighting a lamp. With the words memorized, there was no reason for it, and the last thing she needed was another tongue lashing. Heaven knew she’d had her fair share of those today at the factory.
She ran her fingers over her opposite palm, course and riddled with calluses. Broken nails. Aching wrists. Though nothing compared to the coals burning in her shoulders and back from hunching over bolts of fabric fourteen hours every day. To think, here she sat, forced to sew the same seam a hundred times a day, a thousand times a week, to sustain this meager existence, while somewhere to the west, the sun still hovered high in the sky over a huge ranch owned and run by Lars Forsberg and his son, built with the wealth they stole from her father.
She crumpled the newspaper and tossed it to the floor, then flopped onto her side. Elizabeth wiggled, working her body between the largest lumps in the mattress. The chill spring breeze leaking through the cracks around the window frame made her shiver, but she didn’t bother reaching for her blanket. What was the point? It didn’t compare to the block of ice residing in her center ever since Father lost his business and investments. They’d moved to that first drafty house where Mama succumbed to illness. And then Father, withering away before her eyes, drinking himself into an early grave.
They might as well have been murdered.
And soon Axel would be welcoming a bride to his prosperous ranch, giving Lars grandchildren to enjoy in his old age…
“How can I bear this?” Her words came with her breath. In truth, she couldn’t bear it. Already the thought gnawed away at her resolve to stay sane.
Maybe that was her problem. Sanity. Logic. Neither had served her well. Maybe it was past time to put away reason and take matters into her own hands.
Elizabeth sat up so abruptly her vision momentarily darkened and her head began to throb. What if she answered the advertisement? If she could convince Mr. Forsberg that she was a good prospect for his wife, maybe there was a way to take back what they’d stolen. Maybe she could teach them what it felt like to have everything they loved snatched away.
Tomorrow she’d purchase stationary and make her reply. Father had never mixed home and business except for the annual Christmas party, but Axel had never turned his head her way and Lars had been too busy talking with their investors. Bedsides, she’d been a child then, not yet thirteen. Neither Forsberg was likely to recognize her now.
Spine stiff and jaw set, Elizabeth laid back down. She’d take her mother’s maiden name and become the woman of Axel’s dreams…and his nightmares.
Good thing she no longer believed in God or His judgment.
***
The three-year-old filly shifted as Axel settled his weight into the saddle. Every nerve seemed on fire with anticipation of what the next few seconds might bring. He deepened his breath and tried to relax his muscles. The horse continued to sidestep, turning a large circle. Axel eased the reins. Coming to a stop, the filly shook her head, and then her whole body as though with the hopes of dislodging the weight from her back.
With a click of his tongue, Axel encouraged her forward, a slight pressure applied to her ribs. Four steps. Then the animal’s head dove between her legs. Axel grabbed for the tall iron horn and pressed his feet forward in the stirrups, all the while working with his free hand to pull the head up and to the left. The motion only gave a spin to the filly’s attempt to throw him. Lurching in a tight circle like a rocking chair in a whirlwind, the filly bowed her back, not letting up until one of Axel’s boots dislodged from the stirrup and he was forced into a premature dismount. On his backside.
A chuckle behind him made him cringe, but
he pushed himself up and caught the horse before turning. “I thought you went to town.”
Pa’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but the mirth had left his face. “There and back again.”
Axel’s gut tightened, and he sent a prayer toward the heavens. Something wasn’t being said. “Did you have another run-in with Harvey Cooper or one of the boys?”
Removing his hat, Pa wiped his wrist across his glistening brow. “No. I reckon they don’t want trouble any more than we do.”
“I hope so.” With the Cooper’s land bordering them on the west, there had already been terseness over water rights and a few stray heifers. The last thing they needed was a full out feud. But, if the Coopers were keeping to themselves, what had Pa looking like he’d committed a crime? “You got everything we needed?”
The older man raked his almost white hair back with his free hand and pressed his hat into place. He shook his head. “I couldn’t be made to wait around. I’ll go back tomorrow. I needed to show you this first.” He fished a letter from his coat pocket and extended it over the fence.
It took Axel a couple attempts to take hold of the envelope as the filly nudged his arm with her nose, already bored with standing still. He narrowed his eyes, but not at the horse’s antics. This wasn’t the first envelope like this he’d seen, but usually Pa kept them to himself. Asking about the letters had fallen on deaf ears and usually turned the conversation to plans for the future, how many head of cattle they’d be running in five years, the benefit of starting with good bloodlines, and how nice it would be for Axel to have a son someday to inherit the results of their labor.
He eyed the words marking the front of the letter. “Who do we know in New York?” A stupid question considering his parents had emigrated there from Sweden before his birth, and it had been his home until nine years ago. That didn’t change the fact that they had severed most every tie they’d had with that city after Mama’s death.
“You’d best read the letter. Then come to the house, and we’ll talk.” Pa turned and walked away, his steps noticeably slower than usual.
The filly tried to nibble the paper as Axel drew it from the envelope. He released her reins and slipped through the planks of the corral. Leaning back into the raw wood, Axel stared at the delicate slant and flourish of the prettiest handwriting he’d seen since his mother’s passing.
Dear Axel,
Thank you for agreeing to allow me to call you by your given name. I know we’ve never met, but it makes me feel as though we have. In a way, through our letters, I feel I know you better than any other person of my acquaintance. I look forward to finally joining you, and starting a life with you. I only have a few minutes to post this, but I wanted to inform you I have indeed received the funds you sent and have booked passage. By the time you receive this letter, I will be on my way to you. I should arrive by rail in Phoenix on the 27th of August. I am told there is a stagecoach that can take me north from there.
Your devoted,
Eliza Danton
Axel’s teeth began to hurt before he realized he was clenching his jaw…and the paper. He glanced back at the filly. He really should finish with her now—save his good saddle from her attempts at pushing it off by rolling over—but his anger wouldn’t do the horse any favors. He’d be back.
Lengthening his stride, only minutes saw him at the door to the cabin he and Pa built when they’d first arrived over three years ago. Of course, they’d only started with the main room and added the two smaller ones later. He shoved the door open and strode across the floor, before slamming the paper to the table. Pa reclined in his chair, apparently unaffected.
“Who is this woman, why is she writing to me like we know each other, and what in the world is she coming here for?” Not much breath remained in his lungs, but Axel blew it out anyway.
Pa’s lined face twitched a smile. “Did you think I’d let you hide up here and grow old alone?”
“Obviously I’m not alone.” Axel folded his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t have to worry about your insane schemes if I were.”
“Sending for a woman from the East is hardly insane or unheard of. I told you if you didn’t start going to Phoenix or Prescott to find yourself a wife, I’d take matters into my own hands.” Pa’s arms crossed to match Axel’s. “Maybe next time you’ll heed me a little better.”
A next time? If his father had anything to do with it, he’d be stuck with a wife and passel of young’uns before he could bat an eye. From the sounds of it, the wife was already on the way. Anger flared. “You could have at least said something to me before dragging some poor soul across the country for no reason.”
“Why? So you can put up a fuss like you are now, and drag your heels like you’ve been doing since you learned to walk? The woman is on her way, and you will not disappoint her.”
Axel threw up his hands. There was never any reasoning with the old man. “But I don’t even know her. You’re the one who’s been corresponding with the woman.” Now Axel quirked a smile. “You marry her.”
Pa only shook his head. “I’ve already experienced what a good woman brings to a man’s life. Your mother and my memories of her are all I’ll ever need. That’s what I want you to have, but you’re too focused on this land and those cows. You’d rather get dropped on your backside in manure than go into town and talk to a woman. So here you have it, my gift to you. I’ve prayed long and hard about this woman, and I feel she’ll be just what you need.”
Prayer. How could he argue with that? Pa had never led him wrong before.
Axel sighed and sank defeated into the nearest chair. A neat stack of envelopes caught his eye, piled not far from where the last one had fallen. He dragged them to him and opened the one on top. It only took a few minutes to read all the letters. A Christian woman who worked hard to support herself since she had no family to speak of. Maybe Pa was right. He could provide a better life for her than that stuffy old city.
And it would save a heap of time and hassle trying to find and woo a woman. He could only pray she looked as good, and was as honorable, as paper and ink suggested.
Chapter 2
The town of Bumble Bee appeared to consist of the sign bearing its peculiar name and a cluster of rustic buildings. Every muscle ached, but there was no relief when the stage lurched to a stop. Could this really be her destination? Thankfully her stay would be short in this wilderness. Elizabeth wouldn’t linger a day longer than it took to wreak some havoc and find what rightfully belonged to her family.
Only one other passenger had taken the stage from the station at Phoenix, and he had ridden up with the driver who appeared more concerned with the horses than helping her out. It was left to Elizabeth to find the latch on the stagecoach door and shove it open. Her legs, numb from being jostled and jolted most of two days, faltered on the two small steps, and she hurried to jump to the rutted ground. For a moment the earth felt as though it shifted. She steadied herself on one of the large wheels.
Hallelujah, she’d finally arrived. Elizabeth glanced down at the once brilliant navy blue jacket she wore over her cream dress, both bought new with a little money remaining from what Forsberg had sent her. Now the jacket appeared a smoky brown, coated generously with Arizona dust. She shook her skirts, but only succeeded in making herself sneeze.
Nothing for her cleanliness until she found a washbasin, Elizabeth straightened her hat and raised her gaze to the twig of a town called Bumble Bee. US Calvary station. Saloon. Livery. And a man leaning against the box of a wagon, watching her. Her stomach clenched. Even at this distance, and after so many years, she recognized the unruly gold locks and somber smile of Axel Forsberg.
He seemed to heave a breath before pushing away from the wagon and starting toward her. Elizabeth had thought him grown when she’d seen him in the east, but he looked so much taller than she remembered. Broader, too. She rotated away and reached up for the chest she’d kept on the seat beside her.
She’d been mad thi
nking she could pull off this deceit. What if he did recognize her? He’d no doubt leave her stranded without more than a dollar in her reticule. She might make it as far as Prescott. But then what? What sort of employment was available for a woman in this barren wasteland?
She glanced sideways at the Bumble Bee saloon and shuddered. Not just because of the predicament she’d landed herself in, but who named a town after an insect? She had no choice but follow through with her plan and hope she had indeed matured beyond recognition.
“Let me get that for you, Miss.” The deep rumble of Axel’s voice at her side hitched the breath into her throat. “You’re Miss Danton, I assume?”
His arm brushed hers as he reached for the chest, and she scooted aside. “Yes.” Elizabeth forced herself to look at him and curve her lips in an upward direction. Goodness, his eyes were even bluer than she remembered them. “And you are Mr. Forsberg.” The flirtatious tone she’d managed with ink on stationery completely escaped her now. She’d hated him and his father for so long, how would she ever pull off this performance? Elizabeth steeled herself, ignoring the heat rising within her.
He nodded, his gaze growing appreciative and far too intrusive. “But like agreed to in the letters, Axel is fine… Eliza.” He glanced down at the chest and then inclined his head toward the wagon. “I’ll load this, and then come back for the rest of your luggage. After that, we should talk.”
Elizabeth started nodding, then shook her head. “Um…everything I brought with me is in that chest. But, yes, I suppose there are things we need to discuss.” She brushed past him, anything to remove herself from his steady gaze, though she sensed it followed her, as did he. She crossed the street and took hold of the wagon to steady herself.
Mail-Order Revenge Page 1
