[2015] Western Love

by Christian Michael

  “Forget this nonsense! She is my daughter, and I have every right to take her home with me!” Toby had flown into a rage, and tried to yank the letter away from the sheriff, but he held it out of reach and placed his hand on Toby’s chest to keep him at bay.

  “I’m sorry, but it appears the young lady has done nothing wrong. It says right here that she used the money her mother left her, and no doubt she has a bank note to prove it. Do you, my dear?”

  He turned to Amelia, who nodded, and opened her satchel. Water poured out of her bag as she opened it, and the note was wet and washed out, but the words were still visible on it.

  She handed it over to the sheriff who skimmed it, and looked back at the letter Bird had handed to him. He looked at the three who were gathered around him, and shook his head. Nobody said anything for a moment, then the sheriff finally broke the silence.

  “It all checks out here, Toby, so I am afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you. If she marries this man, she is his wife, and that puts her in his family. If she chooses to remain as she is, you have a bit more say, but not much. But really the choice is up to her.”

  Toby’s face turned bright red, and he slammed his hat on the ground.

  “She can’t do this to me! I won’t have it!”

  “That’s not your choice to make, Sir, and I must say I have fallen in love with your daughter.”

  He turned away from Toby, and looked down at Amelia. She felt her face turn red with a blush, and never before had she felt so vulnerable. She held his gaze for a few seconds, then she looked down at her feet. He cupped her head in his hands and lifted her face to look him in the eye.

  “Amelia, I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, and if you will have me, I would love to have the honor of making you my bride.”

  Amelia could feel tears in her eyes as she nodded, and the sheriff whooped.

  “Well doesn’t this just beat all? I thought I was out here to make an arrest, and instead I am making a wedding! I can perform the ceremony right now if you two would like!”

  They both laughed and Amelia nodded. Toby continued to shout his protest, but the sheriff motioned for his deputy to come over and assist Toby out of the way. Amelia smiled as she took her place beside Bird.

  Their ceremony was short and sweet, but it was perfect for Amelia. She often wondered what her wedding day would be like, but she never imagined it would be like this. Yet, it was absolutely perfect in every way. Bird held out his hand, and helped her up into his wagon.

  As they rode off into the sunset, Amelia was happier than she had ever been. She had found what love truly was, and she wouldn’t have changed a single thing. She was ready to be a wife, and she was ready for her happy ever after.

  Finally, the wait was over.

  THE END.

  Alone and Pregnant

  Mail Order Bride

  Christian Michael

  Chapter 1

  A lone bird sang as the preacher’s droning voice washed over her. For once, the good Reverend Josiah Clark’s monotone was perfect for the occasion. Jillian closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on what the man was saying. Her husband lay in the simple pine box deep within the hole. It was her duty to listen and play the dutiful widow.

  The bird sang again, a lilting trill that seemed out of place in the midst of the gloomy ceremony. Jillian risked a glance upward, peering through the spreading branches of the old oak until she spotted the little brown bird just as he opened his beak once more. The beautiful melody came again. A beautiful song from a plain little bird.

  The woman beside her shifted. Jillian pulled her gaze away from the bird and tried again to listen to Reverend Clark. She could feel the irritation radiating from the black draped woman beside her. Clarence’s mother never could stand any deviation from her carefully laid plans, even something as small as a bird singing during her son’s funeral service.

  The bird had better beware or the song he sang so charmingly would be snatched from his lips. Mrs. Vandergeld had no room in her life for singing or beauty. Or maybe it was just that the joy that created such things could not exist under her autocratic thumb. Either way, Jillian needed to be gone before her mother-in-law discovered the secret hidden beneath her mourning dress.

  “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, Lord into your hands we commit the body of our brother, Clarence Vandergeld.” Reverend Clark closed the worn bible in his hands and bowed his head. The throng surrounding the open grave followed his lead.

  Jillian was grateful for the black veil that hid her face. She didn’t think she could hide the contempt she had for the lot of them. Not today. None of them came for Clarence’s sake. His death would leave no holes in their lives. Chances are it wouldn’t cause the slightest ripple in the well-ordered world of the upper class. They came because it was the polite thing to do … and because Mrs. Vandergeld would know and mark those who did not attend.

  Mrs. Vandergeld ruled her society followers like a queen, granting favors to those who pleased her and social ruin to those who offended her. Jillian didn’t know why they stood for it.

  She wouldn’t have to put up with it for much longer. Clarence was dead, killed by a fall from his horse when he was too drunk to stay in the saddle. Jillian was free. Free of his whining, free of his drunken attentions, and most important, free from his mother’s control.

  A smile curled her lips, the first in many months.

  * * *

  “How can you do this to me, Miss Jones?” David paced the room, refusing to look at the plump woman sitting beside the fireplace. Her gloved hands stayed neatly folded on her lap, her skirt and shirtwaist perfectly pressed, and a silver pin held a tiny pink rosebud at her throat. Her calmness served only to increase his frustration.

  “Mr. David, you know I’ve been stepping out with Hank Brewster for a while now.” The blush that spread over her face looked odd on a woman old enough to be his mother. “Now that we are married, it is only right that I give up my position here to keep house for my husband.”

  David swallowed the growl that threatened to rise up again. “Aren’t you happy here, Miss Jones? Haven’t I been good to you?”

  “It’s Mrs. Brewster now.” The blushing bride stood up with all her matronly to stand in front of him. “Mr. David, you are a good boy and have been a good employer, but it is every woman’s dream to have a man who loves her. Part of that is making a pleasant home for him and growing old together. Mr. Brewster and I are no longer young and we need to make the most of the time we have left.”

  All the anger and frustration leaked out of him with a sigh. David bent down to kiss Miss Jones … Mrs. Brewster’s cheek. “I will be lost without you, Mrs. Brewster. Hank is a very lucky man and I hope you will be very happy together.”

  His former housekeeper patted his cheek. “Why don’t you find yourself a wife, Mr. David? A sweet, pretty, young thing that will keep your house and make you happy. Even God said it isn’t good for a man to be alone.”

  “I have no desire for a wife.” David shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what to do with one.”

  His former housekeeper laughed. “Oh, Mr. David, you have such a good heart, you will figure it out someday.”

  David walked her to the wagon where Hank Brewster watched the house anxiously. When the grizzled old farmer saw his bride, his face lit up until he looked years younger. Perhaps he had been afraid David would talk his wife into staying on. Seeing the two beaming at each other as though nothing else existed, David knew he never could have done it.

  Forcing a smile onto his face, David kept it firmly in place as they drove away. It wasn’t until the wagon and Mrs. Brewster’s cheerfully waving hanky disappeared behind a plume of dust that David let his face relax.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, David stalked through the spotless house. Slumping in his chair, he stretched his long legs out and crossed his ankles. Following Miss Jo … Mrs. Brewster’s advice was all well and good, bu
t where was he supposed to find a wife way out here? There were few unattached women in this dusty stretch of plains and those were not exactly prime marriage material.

  David scowled morosely into the empty fireplace and tapped his fingers on the paper lying on the table. There had to be someone who would stay with him and keep house. He had enough to do running his fledgling ranch without being burdened by cooking and cleaning as well.

  He glanced down at his desk. The paper under his hand was unfamiliar, had Miss … Mrs. Brewster left it behind? An advertisement glared out at him in bold text.

  Lonely on the plains? Desolate in the mountains? Find the perfect bride from among hundreds of lonely women from back East. Advertise with the Matrimonial Times!

  It couldn’t hurt to try. He hated being alone.

  Chapter Two

  Jillian nodded at the servant hovering at her side, wordlessly accepting the offer of dessert. Even after a full meal, it seemed like she couldn’t get enough.

  “You have had enough, don’t you think?” Mrs. Vandgergeld’s sharp voice cut through the otherwise quiet room. “I noticed at the church that you seem to be putting on some weight. I will not have you mocking dear Clarence’s memory by getting fat.”

  The servant stepped away from the table and disappeared through the door to the kitchen. The older woman’s plate was heaped with the sweet without any thought for ‘dear Clarence’s memory’.

  Holding her hands in her lap, Jillian twisted the linen napkin between her fingers. “I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t noticed such a thing.” Sara, her maid, had said something similar when tightening the laces of her corset this morning. Jillian pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. She would have to leave sooner than she thought.

  “I will inform the kitchen that your diet is to be strictly monitored. We have an image to maintain and I will not have your base background ruin it. I really do not know you managed to beguile dear Clarence into marrying you. He always had such refined taste.” The older woman’s voice broke and she dabbed at her eyes with a lace hanky.

  Jillian bit the inside of her cheek to keep from opening her mouth. She had no desire to speak ill of the dead and telling her mother-in-law the truth about her son would only cause more pain. As demeaning as Mrs. Vandergeld had been to her, the woman had doted on her only child.

  Perhaps that had been Clarence’s biggest problem. From childhood, Clarence had been given anything he asked for. He didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. A year ago, he had visited Jillian’s school in the company of a friend and had promptly fallen head over heels in love. He had wooed her with flowers, poetry, and pretty trinkets until Jillian’s head was quite turned.

  Orphaned at a young age, she had been raised by relatives until she was old enough to go to boarding school. They paid for her education and basic necessities, but she never went home for holidays or vacations. Jillian had grown up with the knowledge that she was unwanted by her own family, a burden they resented.

  Now a handsome young man, a gentleman raised to privilege and wealth, spoke to her of love, family, and marriage. He begged to take her away and treat her like a queen. He promised to shower her with gifts and make her happy.

  Alone in her room, Jillian could remember that innocent girl and forgive her weakness. Unloved and unwanted, she had been desperate for someone to need her. That schoolgirl had no way of knowing that the Clarence’s handsome face and smooth ways hid a selfish child that quickly tired of his new toy and was soon out looking for something more exciting. Jillian had kept her vows and ignored the shame he heaped on her head. She had not wished him dead, but felt no sorrow that he was gone.

  Jillian waited until Sara left the room, her evening duties done. Then she crept from the bed and pulled an old carpetbag from its hiding place in the closet. It already held the few dresses that she had brought with her before Clarence and his mother decided they were unsuitable.

  Lying on top of the old dresses was a paper, the Matrimonial Times, smuggled in when her mother-in-law wasn’t looking. Mrs. Vandergeld would never allow her to use such an unsophisticated method to remarry, but Jillian refused to let the woman control her life any more. She would escape this stifling place and find her own way in the world. A place where her child could be raised safe from the corrupting influence of this house.

  Waiting just long enough to add a few necessities, Jillian dressed in the darkness and opened her door. The house was silent. Mrs. Vandergeld insisted on an early bedtime for everyone except Clarence. Jillian felt her way down the shadowed hallway and down the stairs. Pale moonlight flooded the entry hall as she opened the front door. With a deep sense of freedom, she pulled the massive door closed behind her and set off into the night.

  * * *

  With a grimace, David managed to choke down the congealed mass of half cooked porridge. In the weeks since Mrs. Brewster left, he had learned to eat fast enough to avoid tasting anything. He hoped he would receive a reply to his advert in the Marriage Times soon. If he had to rely on his own cooking much longer, his attempt at ranching would be short lived indeed.

  He stuck the spoon into his bowl and shuddered when it stood straight as a flagpole in the cold lump that remained. Nope. Enough was enough. He would ride into town for at least one decent meal. He had planned to dredge out the waterhole today, but that could wait. There was water enough, at least until summer came to suck it dry.

  Today he was going to eat real food for a change.

  The big buckskin gelding seemed to share his mood and set out at a pace that he could hold for miles. It would take half a day to reach town, but it would be a chance to catch up on the news and stock up on some supplies. Maybe he would be able to find a housekeeper this time, just in case his advert didn’t work out. There had to be someone willing to do a bit of cooking and cleaning in exchange for a place to stay and a small wage.

  The sun was high and hot on his shoulders when he rode into town. It wasn’t much of a place, but it met his needs well enough. He pulled up in front of the hotel and swung down from the gelding. He took off his hat and used it to beat the worst of the dust from his chaps. Miss Millie wasn’t fond of cowboys bringing trail dust into her place.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Miss Millie, a middle-aged woman with a girth wide enough for two women bustled up to him and pulled him down for a hug. Millie liked to think all the men in town were her sons. “You sit right down boy and I’ll bring you some vittles. It looks like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

  David grinned and sat at a nearby table. “Well, Miss Millie, there has been stuff getting to my stomach, but I don’t know as I would call it eating. Nothing like you make, anyhow.”

  The portly woman tsked and shook her head. “Sally, Mrs. Brewster left you months ago and you ain’t found anyone to replace her yet?” Millie set a plate stacked high with steak and potatoes on the table in front of him. David closed his eyes and savored the rich smells.

  “Smellin’ it don’t get it into your belly, boy. Dig in.” Despite her gruff words, Miss Millie smiled and patted his shoulder. She poured a cup of coffee and sat across the table from him. “Now how come you’re still alone way out there?”

  Chewing slowly, David considered his answer. “Well, ma’am, it is being way out there that causes the trouble. I can’t find anyone willing to come live with me so far from town. Especially since I can’t pay much until I sell some of my herd. Mrs. Brewster told me to find a wife.”

  “A wife is just the thing you need.” Millie leaned in and whispered, “who you got in mind for courtin’?”

  “There aren’t so many single women around here, Miss Millie.” David looked down at his plate and concentrated on cutting his steak. “I put an ad in the paper.”

  “What was that boy? You’re mumbling.” Millie narrowed her eyes.

  “I put an advert in the Matrimonial Times. I’m hoping to get an answer soon.” David refused to look up and he could feel the blood heating
his cheeks.

  “Well I’ll be dog gone. Advertising for a wife.” To his surprise, Millie started nodding. “Makes sense, actually. Not too many women out here and back east I imagine there are plenty. When you get your answer, bring her in here and I’ll check her out. Men ain’t no good at judging women, they never see past a pretty face.”

  “She can look like my horse for all I care. I don’t care much about her face, I just hope she can cook and clean.” David slowed his eating as his hunger eased. Millie was staring hard at him with a stern expression on her face.

  “You bring a girl all the way out here, far from her family and friends and you better treat her better than that, boy. A girl needs love and affection, no matter what she looks like. You treat her good or you’ll answer to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I got to meet her myself first.”

  Chapter Three

  Jillian checked the name on the advertisement as the train pulled up to the station. Red Lodge seemed an odd name for a town, but there had been others even stranger. Now she just had to find out who had written the advert. Of course there were no names attached, but how many men could there be in a tiny town like this seeking an eastern bride?

  Gathering her cloak and gloves, Jillian checked the faint reflection in the window to make sure her hat was straight. She barely recognized the pale face looking back at her. The constant swaying of the train car had made nausea her constant companion. Her mother-in-law … former mother-in-law … could no longer comment about her weight. Even with the faint roundness of her stomach barely beginning to show, no one could call her anything but thin, even gaunt.

  Hopefully, the man she had chosen would understand. With carpetbag in hand, Jillian took a deep breath and stepped onto the dusty planks that served as a train station. Dismay grew as she looked around. There was a single street lined by faded false-front buildings, most of which had the look of saloons. Even with the sun just short of midday, rough looking ponies dozed at hitching rails. Perhaps she would have been better off sending a letter first; to make sure she had a place to go.