The Accidental Mail Order Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Caleb nodded, so Travis moved aside. Caleb touched the smooth wood and then brought his hand back to a rough section. “I like the difference.”

  “One of the nice things about making something with your hands is that you get to see it evolve,” Travis replied as he continued sanding the leg. “You can turn junk into something people can use, like a chair.” He gestured to the pile of junk around him. “This is all junk people threw away.”

  “Do they bring it here?” Caleb asked then started smoothing the top of the chair.

  “No. Well, some do. Usually, your pa will collect junk and bring it out here to see if I can use any of it. There are a couple of other men who bring things by. But most of the time, I go to the place where people dump their garbage.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s a small area outside of town. There’s a big hole dug out there, and most people will throw their junk in there. Sometimes, however, the object is too big, so they put it in a row with other large objects.”

  “What kind of objects do people throw away?”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve found a couple of good wagons out there.”

  “I don’t understand,” Caleb said, his eyebrows furrowed. “If the wagons are good, why do they throw them away?”

  “Because they don’t realize those wagons are still good. There might be some rotted wood or wheels that don’t work right, but overall, it can be fixed. I take those and fix them. Your pa is good about taking them and selling them for me. I let him keep a portion of the money for his help.”

  “You like my pa, don’t you?”

  Travis hesitated to express his feelings. He wasn’t used to doing it. It was easier to deal with things than it was to deal with emotions, but there was a thoughtful expression on the child’s face that prompted him to open up to him. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but it seemed that the boy had a way of understanding things that most people didn’t.

  “To be honest,” Travis began, “your pa is one of the few people I trust in this town. He’s a good man.” After a moment, he added, “I consider him to be a friend.”

  “He likes you, too,” Caleb replied. “He doesn’t think it’s right when people say the things they do about you.”

  Travis stopped sanding the leg and watched as Caleb continued to work as if he hadn’t just exposed something of significance. But who knew? Caleb might be perceptive, but he was still a child. Maybe he didn’t realize how much the rumors bothered Travis. Maybe he assumed since Travis was an adult, he didn’t have feelings like children did.

  “You can’t help what people say about you, Caleb. I learned that a long time ago. The important thing is to believe in yourself. You’re a smart boy. Smarter than most, I’m guessing.”

  Caleb took a moment to look over at him, those eyes suggesting he was mature for his age. “Do you believe in yourself?”

  The question shouldn’t have shocked him. He did, after all, just get through telling Caleb to believe in himself. It was natural Caleb would want to know if Travis was following his own advice. But the truth was, it was much easier to tell someone else to believe in himself than to do it. And he didn’t know how to explain that to Caleb without sounding weak.

  “I believe in the work I do,” Travis finally said, hoping it was a good enough answer.

  Fortunately, Caleb seemed content with it and resumed his work on the chair. Relieved, Travis started sanding another leg.

  ***

  “I can’t believe this is the same room you were cleaning when we got here,” Caroline told Allie as the two inspected the parlor around one o’clock.

  Allie’s gaze swept the clean hardwood floor, the newly scrubbed walls, the white curtains which had been washed and hung to dry, and the dust-free sofa, rocking chair, and table. “It looks like it belongs in a different house.”

  “Nope. It all belongs here.”

  Allie wouldn’t have believed this possible when she came here yesterday. But seeing this room as it was intended to be gave her a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be alright after all.

  “Lunch is ready,” Phoebe said as she came into the room. “Although it’s later than I expected. It took me time to find all the ingredients I needed.” She inspected the parlor. “You two are finished already?”

  “There was nothing to it,” Caroline replied with a big grin. “I took one task, Allie took another, and here it is!”

  Phoebe put her hand up to her chest and laughed. “My goodness. I wouldn’t have thought this possible this morning.”

  “Me neither,” Allie admitted.

  “Just you wait until we get to the bedrooms tomorrow,” Caroline told her. “Then you’ll have a whole new home.” Her eyes grew wide. “That reminds me. Eric and I got you a new sheet, pillow, and blanket for the bed.”

  “What?” Allie asked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “We wanted to. It’s a gift. You know, for all the trouble we caused you.” Caroline offered her a smile. “It’s the least we can do.”

  Allie didn’t know how to respond to that, so she could only watch as Caroline hurried out of the cottage.

  With a chuckle, Phoebe turned to Allie. “She has a good heart. She feels bad that she stole your husband.”

  Allie laughed. “Well, to be fair, I wasn’t married to Eric when she came here.”

  “Yes, but she married him before you could. She got off in this town by mistake. She was supposed to marry a man further out west.”

  “She was?”

  “Yes, but it turned out to be a very good thing she didn’t. The man she was supposed to marry wanted to sell her into prostitution.”

  Allie gasped. “He what?”

  “I know,” Phoebe said with a shiver. “Being a mail-order bride myself, it scares me to think of how vulnerable we all were when we answered those ads. You can’t tell much about a man through written correspondence.”

  “No, I suppose you can’t.” In light of this, Allie was glad she’d been delayed so that Caroline had to marry Eric. She would hate to think of any woman ending up with such a terrible life. “I’m glad she ended up with Eric.”

  “Travis is a good man, too,” Phoebe quickly said, as if she thought Allie needed the assurance. “Sometimes things don’t turn out the way we expect, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t exactly where we’re meant to be.”

  Since Allie didn’t know how to answer that, she settled for nodding. Maybe Phoebe was right. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, Allie didn’t know Travis well enough to make a decision about it.

  “Do you mind if I ask you what you think of Travis?” Phoebe asked.

  Allie shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. I haven’t seen him, and we haven’t had a single conversation. There was a door between us when we said our vows. He seems more like a shadow than an actual person.”

  Phoebe smiled. “Travis is so terribly shy. Abe says the prettier the woman, the shier he is. You’re more beautiful than me or Caroline, and he hides whenever we’re around. But if Abe says he’ll make a good husband, you can bet on it.”

  Caroline came back into the cottage, saving Allie from having to reply. “You’ll never believe what Travis is making for you, Allie,” Caroline said as she came into the room, a neatly folded blanket, sheet, and a pillow in her arms. “Caleb said he’s making a chair for you,” she added, glancing over at Caleb as he came into the room behind her. “Caleb has been helping him sand and paint it.”

  “Did Travis say why he’s making a chair for Allie?” Phoebe asked, directing her question to Caleb.

  “One of the kitchen chairs is wobbly,” Caleb replied.

  Was it? Allie went to the kitchen chairs and tested them. Sure enough, one wasn’t sturdy. Maybe he saw no use in making any new chairs before since he’d been alone out here. Maybe he didn’t make it a habit of entertaining people.

  “Does he have visitors?” Allie asked as Caroline and Phoebe came into the
kitchen.

  “From what Abe said, he doesn’t visit with people,” Phoebe told her. “He’s never invited Abe inside this cottage. Abe’s only seen that building where he makes things.” Though unnecessary, she gestured toward it. “He and Abe say whatever they need to in there, and then Abe leaves. He never stays for longer than a few minutes.”

  “Eric does the same thing,” Caroline added.

  Then it made sense why he never bothered to do anything about the wobbly chair or anything else in the little home.

  “Now that you’re here,” Caroline continued, “we have a reason to come out and visit. Of course, that’s only if you’d like us to. We don’t want to impose. If you’d rather not have us around, you don’t have to. There’s nothing worse than feeling like you have to be social when you don’t feel like it.”

  “Right,” Phoebe added, directing Allie’s gaze to her. “We only want to come over if you want us here.”

  Allie returned their smiles. “I’d love it if you came to visit.”

  She noted the relief on Caroline’s face and suspected Caroline understood she no longer held any hard feelings for the way things had turned out.

  “We’ll have to show you where we live,” Phoebe said. “That way you can come over and visit us if you wish.”

  “Thank you,” Allie replied.

  It was nice to know she wasn’t alone in this town, and she sensed that these two women could become good friends. While Caroline went to change the bedding in Allie’s bedroom, Phoebe helped Allie with lunch.

  ***

  “I’m surprised you bothered showing your face around here,” Hank called out as Carl Richie entered the general store.

  Carl glanced over his shoulder as the old man followed him into the place. “I have nothing to hide,” Carl told him. “I didn’t kill my wife.”

  “We can’t be sure about that,” Daniel said from behind him.

  Carl spun around and saw that Daniel was with two other men: Mike and Jerry. “The sheriff says I’m not guilty,” he replied. “And besides, why would I kill her? I need a legitimate child before I turn thirty.” Speaking of which… He looked directly at Daniel. “Did I get any mail?”

  “Yeah, let me get it,” Daniel said then lumbered over to the post office, which was in the store.

  “I don’t know,” Hank commented, crossing his arms and scanning Carl up and down as if he’d find traces of Lydia’s blood somewhere on his clothes. “You had a lot more to gain by getting rid of her than keeping her alive.”

  “Yeah,” Jerry agreed, “and you were awfully quick to post an ad for a mail-order bride. Someone might think there’s something suspicious about that.”

  Carl rolled his eyes. “I need a child by the time I’m thirty. That’s only eighteen months away.”

  “If you were in that much of a hurry, why didn’t you marry Miss Allison Jones when she came into town yesterday?” Hank asked.

  “I didn’t even know there was a Miss Allison Jones in town,” Carl replied.

  Carl almost added, Who is Allison Jones? But he refrained. The men had all marked him down as being guilty of Lydia’s murder, even though he hadn’t done it. For all he knew, one of them could have been the killer. He had no idea who would have done the deed, but there were plenty of motives to go around. Lydia often said she knew enough secrets about people in town that she could get whatever she wanted. Maybe she’d been blackmailing someone.

  “I got mail for you,” Daniel said, coming up to him.

  Carl turned from the men and accepted the envelope. The script was definitely feminine. Maybe this one would be the answer to his prayers. The other one sure hadn’t been.

  “I hope you don’t leave town,” Jerry spoke up.

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “We might need you here. Just in case the sheriff’s wrong.”

  “The sheriff isn’t infallible,” Jerry agreed.

  Carl glanced from one accusing stare to another. This town hadn’t been the friendliest one to begin with, but now, everyone had turned on him because they all assumed he was guilty. Just because he hated Lydia, it didn’t mean he killed her. Sure, he’d often fantasized about her death, but he’d never tried to kill her.

  “When the real killer is exposed, and he will be, I’ll be waiting for all of your apologies,” Carl finally snapped.

  Hank snorted.

  “Especially from you since you made it a habit of sleeping with Lydia,” Carl told Hank. “You will be the first in line to apologize.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Hank retorted.

  “Hands and knees.” Carl pointed to the ground. “You will have to get on your hands and knees if you expect me to forgive you.”

  As Carl stormed out of the store, Hank yelled out, “If you could have satisfied her in bed, she wouldn’t have kept coming to mine to get the job done right.”

  Gritting his teeth, Carl ignored him as he slipped the letter into his pocket. He made haste in unhitching the horse from the post and jumped into the saddle. Then he rode off as fast as the horse would take him, ignoring the dirty looks and shouts from the people who were covered in dust as the horse stirred it up into the air.

  What did he care? None of the people liked him. They had nothing but contempt for him. Always had. Always would.

  He hated this place. From the moment he was a child and his father brought him and his mother here, he’d hated this place. It had lacked all the comforts and graces of the East.

  It’s only temporary, his father had told them. I heard from a reliable source this area is ripe with gold. In a little while, we’ll go back to Boston, and we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams.

  Like a fool, Carl and his mother had believed him. But year after year had passed, and Carl was no closer to getting out of here than he had been the day he first arrived. He suspected he was close to finally finding the gold. He’d actually panned a couple of flakes the other day. For the first time in years, he had hope. Finally, there was a silver lining beginning to emerge from all the years of sorrow and despair that had hovered over his life.

  He pulled the horse to a stop once he was on the outskirts of town and grabbed the letter. He ripped the envelope open and read through the missive. As he’d hoped, it was from a woman. She took time to describe herself, but he scanned down the paper to make sure his one requirement was met. She had to be a virgin. There was no way he was going to risk marrying a woman who knew how inadequate he was in bed. It was enough Lydia had known it. He didn’t need the next wife mocking him, too.

  The last reply he’d received was from a widow. That had been no good. He’d had to dismiss her. Though why she had bothered replying when he’d specifically mentioned wanting a virgin was still a mystery to him. Didn’t these women take the time to actually read the ad he posted?

  But he was in luck with this one. Her name was Juliet, and she had done a good job in making sure she met all of his requirements. Good. Yes, this one would do. He’d pen a reply, and he’d deliver it to the stagecoach driver himself when he came by in a couple weeks. He didn’t trust any of the men in town to do it for him. If they all thought he was a murderer, who knew what they’d do to sabotage his chances of finally getting out of this pit of endless despair?

  He put the missive back into the envelope then carefully tucked it into his pocket. For the moment, this letter was as good as the gold he hoped to soon find on his property. Feeling calmer, he urged the horse forward and took the rest of the path up to his cabin. Things were finally going in his favor.

  Chapter Six

  Travis didn’t think Caroline, Phoebe, or Caleb would ever leave. In fact, it was half past four when they finally got into the wagon and headed on out. His father used to say women could talk for hours and hours, and darned if his father hadn’t been right. He wondered if they would make it a habit of coming to the cottage now that Allie was there. Was this kind of thing going to be a frequent occurrence? And if so, what could he do about it?

  He h
ad spent the entire day getting the chair done, and now that he was finishing up with the paint, he realized the other chairs in the cottage would be eyesores next to this one. So he had no choice. He’d have to make more chairs. Considering Caroline would be bringing Caleb and Phoebe with her when she came for visits, he’d better make three others.

  He honestly didn’t mind Caleb. Caleb was a child, and children were far easier to talk to than adults were. They didn’t judge a person before giving them a chance. They started from a place of trust and acceptance and moved from there. Adults, however, did things the other way. One had to prove they were worthy before gaining such acceptance. And Travis wasn’t considered worthy.

  A sound from the door interrupted his thoughts. He hid in the shadows so Allie couldn’t see him and moved to the window, making sure he only peeked out the side. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what she’d want with him. He had nothing to offer her.

  He saw her bend down with something and then straighten up. Whatever had been in her hands wasn’t there anymore. His eyebrows furrowed. What was she doing?

  Her gaze went to the window. Gasping, he ducked, praying she hadn’t noticed him. He waited for ten very long and—very tense—seconds before he dared another peek out the window. She was going back to the cottage.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. Much too close.

  She opened the door and slipped back into the cottage, closing it softly behind her. The trees cast enough of a shadow over the cottage for him to see her as she moved around the place.

  He tried to find out what she left at the doorstep by getting another vantage point from the window, but it was no good. He couldn’t see the doorstep from the window. His curiosity was prompting him to open the door to see what it was, but he didn’t dare. Not right away. Not when she might be watching him from one of the windows in the cottage.