Her Fearless Love (Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride) (A Western Historical Romance Book)

by Florence Linnington

  She shrugged, looking off at the wall, appearing to be in another place. “When I joined the mail-order bride agency and I received a response from a man in Wyoming Territory, I thought, well that seems as good a place as any other.”

  “And now?” August asked. “Does Pathways seem as good a place as any other?”

  A lump formed in his throat. He wanted her to say she would stay there, to suggest that they had a future and he need not worry about her ever leaving. Over the last week, Margaret had been the first thing on August’s mind when he woke in the mornings and the last thing on his mind when he fell asleep. He wanted to see her every day. The thought of her leaving Pathways made his chest ache.

  Margaret’s chocolate eyes focused and came to rest on his face. “It seems better,” she said.

  Her lips twitched into a smile, and August sighed with relief. “I hoped you would say that,” he said.

  “You like having me here?”

  “I love having you here, Margaret. You’re just what I needed to brighten up my whole life.”

  The words had flown out. He had not meant to be so honest, but Margaret did not appear put-off. She only smiled more and took a sip of water.

  “Will you tell me about your childhood in Ohio?” August said.

  “There is really not that much to say.”

  “Come now. There must be. Tell me something. Anything.”

  “Hm.” Margaret pursed her lips slightly. “All right. Let’s see. I was the second child born, but my parents’ first one, a son, did not survive into his second month. I came along three years after him. We lived in a town called Prospect Rock. My mother worked cleaning and washing laundry at various houses. It was not steady work, but it was something. Better than...”

  Margaret paused, and August bit the inside of his cheek. So far, the story of Margaret’s childhood was not the brightest. He feared he’d made a mistake by urging her to tell it.

  “My father enjoyed the bottle,” she said. “When that ran dry, opium. Either would do.”

  Her voice was tense, hinting at dark memories.

  “I am sorry,” August said through gritted teeth.

  “It was many years ago.” She nodded, as if confirming something. “They have both passed. It’s been... five years for my mother. More for my father.”

  August’s mouth was dry. So Margaret’s father had been an addict. And her mother, from the sound of it, likely struggled just to keep food on the table. It tore at August’s heart to think of any child growing up under such circumstances.

  “And when did you decide to come West?” he asked. If Margaret wanted to talk about her childhood more one day, he would gladly do so. He did not want to push her into it, though.

  “When I signed up with the mail-order bride agency.”

  “Ah.” August nodded. He knew how that had ended.

  Was there nothing merry in her past?

  “Please do not look so sad,” Margaret said.

  August shifted in his seat, ashamed over bringing a morose mood to the table. “I apologize. I only was thinking...”

  “Yes?”

  He swallowed. “You are an extraordinary woman, Margaret. You have been through much, and I see that in your eyes. What I also see is fortitude. Clarity. You have the kind of strength that only comes through adversity. And I... I admire that.”

  Margaret’s features softened. “No one has ever said such a thing to me.”

  “I mean it,” August said. “Out struggles, though we would often do away with them if we could, force us to grow.” Realizing he might be idealizing her past, he hurried to explain himself further. “That said, at the same time, I hate that you have been through so much struggle. I did not mean to suggest--”

  “It is all right.” Margaret set his hand on his, and heat shot up his arm.

  A moment later, and Margaret drew her hand back. Her cheeks were pink, and a smile played on her lips, which she attempted to hide by ducking her face.

  “You do not have to hide your feelings around me, Margaret,” August whispered.

  She peeked at him from under her eyelashes. “It is something I am used to doing.”

  “The past is in the past,” he said. “Let’s start anew.”

  I will never hurt you. I am not like the others.

  August yearned to make that promise to her, but they had only begun spending time together. He did not want to scare her away. And yet, as they locked eyes, an understanding seeped into her face. Did she know how he felt?

  Before he could think further on it, the soup arrived, and the conversation shifted. They touched on lighter subjects, from Muffins most recent antics to the spring dance in May that all of Pathways looked forward to.

  “I hope you will save me a dance,” August said. They’d finished supper and put on their coats and were exiting into the night. “Or all of them,” he added.

  Margaret glowed in the moonlight. “That is several months away.”

  August’s stomach dropped. Did she mean she was uncertain about their relationship?

  “But,” she added, “I would be happy to save my dances for you.”

  “There is no one else I would rather dance with,” August said.

  The snow crunched under their feet, and Margaret turned her shining face to him. “No one?” she asked.

  She was not being playful anymore. There was a seriousness in her voice. A twinge of pain.

  “No one,” August said fiercely. He tightened his arm around hers. “Margaret, I have been in Pathways for five years, and in all that time, I have not met a woman like you. In fact... in all my life, I have not met a woman like you.”

  She was quiet for a minute as they walked arm in arm. August studied her profile, unable to gather any clues regarding what went through her mind.

  “Why me?” she finally asked. “You said at supper that I have fortitude, and that draws you to me. But is it only because of my struggles that you find me interesting? What if I had lived a carefree life and knew nothing of strife and pain? What would you think of me then?”

  They’d reached the Bain’s house, and Margaret stopped near the side entrance.

  August turned to face her. “I do not wish to lie to you, Margaret. I do not know how I would see you were your life to be the opposite of what it is now. What I can say is, this: I hope you never have another day of pain. Going forth, I will always respect your strength, but I will equally respect your intelligence and your heart. You have a steel exterior, Margaret Meyers, but I have seen the sweetness that lies underneath it.”

  “You have, have you?” she asked with a lilt.

  He took a half step toward her, and the sound of her quickened breaths graced the air.

  “Yes,” August answered. “It is in the smiles you give me. In the way you speak of the kitten and the children. Life may have tried to beat you down, but it did not succeed, and it never will.”

  They gazed at each other in the moonlight, a cackling energy akin to lightning filling the air. August burned all over, and Margaret’s lips drew his gaze. How desperately he yearned to kiss her!

  But, no. He would wait. He had taken their courtship to a new place that night in pushing her to speak of her past and waxing poetic on her brawn. Though they drew closer, he knew the flighty part of her still existed. Too much to fast and she would scare and run away.

  Folding his fingers over Margaret’s hand, he took his time lifting it and placing a kiss on the top of the glove.

  “Good night, sweet Margaret,” he whispered.

  “Good night,” she said, her voice so light the slightest wind would have carried it away.

  He stayed where he was as he watched her enter the house and close the door.

  Chapter 11

  11. Margaret

  Chapter eleven

  “Margaret!” a woman called.

  Not more than a dozen steps out of the butcher’s front door, Margaret turned around and searched for whomever had called her name. Tw
o familiar women walked across the street, and Margaret squinted her eyes. Was that...

  Bonnie and Thea waited for a wagon to pass, then crossed the rest of the street and joined Margaret in the space between the butcher’s and the general store.

  “I thought that was you,” Thea said. “How are you?”

  “I am... well.” Margaret shook her head. “I apologize. I am merely shocked at seeing you here.”

  Bonnie and Thea exchanged a look, and Margaret could only imagine what they thought. The last time she had seen the women, she had been headed out of town. Bonnie and Thea had suspected her of being involved in Russell’s murder, and though Margaret knew they had justifiable reasons for that, the accusation had stung.

  Yes, Russell had been cruel to Margaret. She never thought of killing him to get rid of him, though, and she hated that others thought she might be capable of murder.

  “What are you doing in Pathways?” Margaret asked.

  “My husband came down to fetch a package,” Thea explained, “and we came with.”

  “Because we wanted to call on you,” Bonnie added.

  Margaret looked between the two of them. She wanted to say something but was still shocked by their presence. Russell’s murder had been solved since she’d seen Bonnie and Thea, and they’d written her a letter to apologize and see how she was doing. Margaret had written back, but she’d kept it concise and to the point, merely thanking them and telling them she was well.

  “You wanted to call on me?” Margaret confirmed. They’d never been friends. Although, if things had been different in Whiteridge, if Margaret had not had such an oppressive husband, they could have been.

  “Yes,” Bonnie said, her uncertainty clear. She glanced at Thea.

  “We went to the Bain’s,” Thea said, “and the cook told us you were out to the butcher’s.”

  Margaret nodded. “Oh.”

  Thea’s lips drew thin. “Margaret, we are sorry about everything that happened,” she said in a low voice. “We did not want to believe you had anything to do with Mr. Hawkins...”

  Thea trailed off.

  Margaret sighed. Months ago, she had been so angry. Even two weeks ago, she had been angry. And now...

  She was becoming tired of living in such a state.

  “It is all right,” Margaret said. “Truly.”

  Bonnie raised her eyebrows. “It is?”

  “Yes.” Margaret looked down at the basket she carried the paper-wrapped pork chops in. “I was a most logical suspect. The most logical one in the beginning.”

  “We were on your side,” Bonnie said. “We wanted to help you.”

  “I know,” Margaret whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  Before Russell’s death, Thea and Bonnie had tried multiple times to be friends with her. Russell had not wanted Margaret to become close to anyone but him, though, and so she’d done what she needed to temper his aggression and kept everyone at a distance.

  “I would have loved to go berry picking with you,” Margaret rasped, remembering the day they stopped by and asked her to join them in filling their baskets on the side of the mountain.

  Bonnie smiled wide, and Thea used her handkerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes.

  “Perhaps this summer,” Bonnie said. “You can come visit us in Whiteridge.”

  “Perhaps,” Margaret said, though she was not too sure. That town held too many awful memories for her. At the moment, she would be happy with never setting sights on it again.

  “Do you like it here?” Thea asked.

  “Yes,” Margaret said right away. “I am settling in well, thank you.”

  “That’s good,” Thea cried, and Bonnie nodded.

  “The church is nice,” Margaret said, “And the family I work for very kind.”

  Those were not the real reasons she had come to love Pathways, but Margaret decided to say nothing about August for the time being. Courting a man so shortly after her husband’s death was a questionable move, even though Russell had been an awful husband, and Margaret was conscious of how harshly others might judge her for it.

  “And there appears to be much to do here,” Bonnie said. “I have heard there are seasonal dances.”

  “Yes,” Margaret said. She’d stayed home from the one in December, so could not really attest to their quality. “How long are you here for?” she asked.

  “Not even an hour,” Thea said. “Wakefield wants to get home before nightfall.”

  “That is a tiresome ride,” Margaret said. “Down and up the mountain in one day. And with the snow, too.”

  “We really wanted to see you,” Bonnie said.

  Margaret gazed from one woman to the other and saw it was true. They’d set aside their busy lives caring for homes and (in Thea’s case) a child in Whiteridge and faced a long, uncomfortable ride just to see her for an hour. And they hadn’t even known if she was available.

  Emotion bubbled up in Margaret, coming so fast it knocked the wind out of her.

  “You both are wonderful women,” she gasped. “Truly wonderful.”

  “Oh, stop.” Bonnie sniffed and blinked fast. “You’ll make me cry.”

  “I already cried,” Thea said.

  “We really have been worried about you,” Bonnie said, touching Margaret’s arm.

  “Don’t be,” Margaret told her. “I am happy here. Happier than I have ever been in my life.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, August exited the general store, a package wrapped in newspaper under his arm. They caught sight of each other at the same time. August smiled, and Margaret’s heart fluttered.

  Their supper the night before, and the walk home that followed, had been the most romantic events of Margaret’s life. She had felt they were out of a fairy tale. Standing in front of the Bain’s, she had desperately wanted him to kiss her. For a moment, it had seemed he would. When he pressed his lips to her hand instead of her face, she’d been mildly disappointed, but not too much.

  They were taking the first steps toward something larger. Something Margaret had never trusted to be possible. The slower they took things, the easier it became for her to believe in them.

  “Margaret,” August said, leaving the general store’s steps.

  Thea and Bonnie glanced at each other, no doubt noting the use of Margaret’s first name.

  “Good morning,” Margaret told him. “Mr. August Dowdell, may I introduce Mrs. Thea Briggs and Miss... Mrs. Bonnie Huebner. They are... friends of mine from Whiteridge.”

  “Friends of Margaret’s?” August’s lips quirked. “How wonderful. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Briggs and Mrs. Huebner.”

  “You as well,” Thea said.

  “Yes,” Bonnie chimed in. “It is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

  “What brings you to Pathways?” August asked.

  “A quick errand,” Thea said. “Tell me. How do you know each other?”

  Margaret’s neck grew hot. This was just as she’d feared. If Thea and Bonnie knew she was courting, they might accuse her of moving on from her marriage too soon. It did not matter that Russell had been despicable or that Margaret had stumbled into courting without planning to. Women were expected to adhere to a certain mourning time. Though it was not written in stone, Margaret had always heard a year of solitude was the most appropriate.

  “We met outside of the post office one day,” August explained with a smile. He turned to Margaret. “I am glad I bumped into you. I was going to stop by and ask if you are available for a sleigh ride this afternoon.”

  “A sleigh ride?” Margaret kept her eyes on August, not wanting to see the judgement in Bonnie and Thea’s faces.

  But so what if they did not like her courting? It was Margaret’s life, and no one else’s! She had spent too long being unhappy, and she was not about to give that up because of other’s opinions.

  “That would be wonderful,” Margaret said. “I will be finished with my work by four.”

  “That leaves us a
good hour of daylight,” August said. “I will fetch you then.” He looked at the other women. “Ladies, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again.”

  “You as well, Mr. Dowdell,” Thea said.

  Bonnie mumbled something that sounded like ‘goodbye.’ Touching his hat, August departed.