by Natalie Dean
The voice, Agatha could now clearly hear, belonged to Luke Crenshaw. She turned the corner to see Mrs. Matthews facing off against the young man. Her hands were crossed over her ample chest, her face was red, and she glared at the boy as though he were a very unpleasant pest that had made its way into her home. Like a cockroach or a rat.
“I won’t be told by the likes of you what I can and can’t afford!” Mrs. Matthews said. “I said I want you out and I meant it!”
“I don’t think it’s wise to argue further, Mr. Crenshaw,” another familiar voice said. Agatha looked away from Mrs. Matthews to the very back of the room. There, leaning against the fireplace, stood Elijah.
He seemed as calm and composed as ever. Though, Agatha was certain there was a slight twinkle in his eye as he pushed himself away from the fireplace and moved towards Mr. Crenshaw.
Still nervous about facing Crenshaw herself, Agatha shrunk back into the shadows, hoping none of them would see her.
“If you like, I can escort you over to the saloon,” Elijah told Crenshaw. “I’m sure they have room for you over there. I’m told there is almost always space available.”
As the Pastor approached, Crenshaw took a large step away from him. Agatha saw him turn his dark glare on Elijah. That was the glare she remembered him giving her back in New York when she’d discovered his secret. It was the glare that had haunted her every day since.
“Don’t think I don’t know that this was you,” Crenshaw said, his voice low and very dangerous. “You wrote that article. You and that little whore.”
At the word ‘whore,' Mrs. Matthews moved forward and slapped Crenshaw hard across the face. Agatha was more pleased than she should have been to see the bright red mark on Luke Crenshaw’s cheek and the shocked expression in his wide eyes as he turned back to Mrs. Matthews.
“I will not have such language in my hotel!” Mrs. Matthews barked at him. “Especially not about the pastor’s fiancé. We have been nothing but welcoming to you. It is clear that you do not know how to repay such kindness.”
“If you knew what this pastor’s fiancé really was,” Crenshaw said, recovering his slightly brash manner. “You wouldn’t want her in your establishment either. Just ask your pastor! He knows.”
“I know that Agatha Thorne is my fiancé,” Elijah said. His normally calm voice now carried a slightly protective growl. “I know that she discovered your secret back in New York and you threatened her. That’s why she was forced to flee.”
Mrs. Matthews gasped again.
“Elijah…are you sure? That wasn’t in the paper,” she said. The anger in her voice replaced by shock mixed with more than a hint of curiosity.
“Agatha told me last evening,” Elijah said.
“But, that’s not the whole story, is it Pastor?” Crenshaw said. That horrible, cocky smirk returning to his face. “You didn’t tell her about how your virtuous Miss Thorne wasn’t so virtuous back in New York.”
Another hard slap sounded. This time the hand that flew across Crenshaw’s face belonged to Elijah.
“I’m warning you,” Elijah said, his voice growing so low that Agatha had to strain to hear it. “If I hear you speaking that way about my fiancé again, you’ll get more than a slap across the face.”
“You can’t stop me from telling people the truth,” Crenshaw said. As soon as he did, Mrs. Matthews made an ironically amused sound in the back of her throat.
“And who would believe the word of a known thief over the town pastor?” she asked. “Everyone in Laramie knows their pastor wouldn’t lie to them.”
“You, on the other hand, have no standing,” Elijah continued. “So, I think it’s best if you take my advice and leave town by tomorrow. There are plenty of places out west perfectly suited for people like you.”
Crenshaw hesitated a moment, looking from Elijah to Mrs. Matthews. His face was still red, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
For one horrible second, Agatha thought that he just might hit Elijah back. That a fight might break out.
A second later, however, Crenshaw nodded slowly.
“I suppose I’ll get my things then,” he said. “I’ll head out the back way.”
Eyes still locked on Elijah, Crenshaw backed slowly from the parlor into the hallway opposite the one Agatha was standing in, still, thankfully, hidden.
“But, if you think this is over, Pastor,” he said viciously. “You’re wrong. You can’t keep her locked up forever. Sooner or later, you’ll both get what’s coming to you.”
Before either Elijah or Mrs. Matthews could respond to this, Crenshaw turned and made his way down the hall and out of sight.
“What a horrible man!” Mrs. Matthews exclaimed as soon as he’d gone. “It would have served him right if I’d had my boy throw him bodily from the hotel.”
“No use letting it upset you anymore, Mrs. Matthews,” Elijah said gently to the older woman. “Go calm yourself down. Agatha and I will help with breakfast if you need it.”
“Oh, no need, dear,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Cooking always calms me at any rate. And there’s hardly room enough in that kitchen for one cook let alone three.”
“All right then,” he said. “I suppose I’ll go wake Agatha.”
Mrs. Matthews turned towards the kitchen, Elijah watched her go before turning back to the hallway.
“You can come out now, Agatha,” he said with a smirk.
Feeling her face grow warm again, Agatha stepped from the shadows and into the light of the parlor.
“How long have you known I was there?” she asked.
“Since Mrs. Matthews started screaming,” he said. “I knew it must have woken you up. Don’t worry. I won’t tell her.”
He gave her another smile accompanied by a wink.
“So, it worked then?” Agatha asked. “The article?”
He picked up one piece of long newspaper and handed it to her. The Headline read: A Wanted Thief in Laramie.
“Bob Jenkins did some digging after I left last night,” Elijah said. “It turns out our Mr. Crenshaw was found out in New York and had to make a run for it. That’s why he made his way out here.”
Agatha had a feeling she shouldn’t ask any more about it. She should be grateful that Crenshaw was gone and take it at that. But something about it still bothered her.
“If he was already wanted, why did he need me? And why did he need those pages I took from him?”
“Word travels very slowly out here,” Elijah said. “Typically, if someone in a town doesn’t raise questions about a newcomer, no one thinks to ask. Crenshaw came out here knowing his past likely wouldn’t follow him. He just had the misfortune of running into you. If it weren’t for you and those pages you took from his books, he could have gone to work for a new employer here, and no one would have been any the wiser.”
Agatha nodded before looking up at Elijah.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I know you took a big risk doing this for me.”
Smiling down at her, he raised a hand once more to her cheek.
“What sort of Christian man would I be if I refused to help the girl I loved?”
At that word, ‘love,' Agatha felt her heart rise in her chest. Before she could ask what it meant, Elijah gently brought her forward.
And, as his lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss, Agatha Thorne knew, for the first time in a long time, that she was safe.
Chapter 9
Elijah Rhodes had not been nervous at the wedding. He had been excited and filled with a joy he thought he would never experience. He wasn’t even nervous when he saw Agatha walk down the aisle towards him. Her long, brown hair flowing gently behind her back. Curls framing her pale face.
He had not been nervous when the two of them stepped into the wagon and made their way to the hotel where Mrs. Matthews had put together a luncheon for them and invited the whole town. Though, he had to admit there had been a few too many people there for his liking.
It
was not until the luncheon had finished; when he helped Agatha into the wagon as they drove back to his small home behind the church, that his nerves caught up with him.
Now, as they neared the white-washed steeple that they had only left an hour or so before, he kept glancing over at his bride. She was wearing one of her rare, truly happy smiles. And, when she started humming tunelessly to herself, he knew how happy she was.
Still, the nerves in his stomach refused to settle.
It was not that he was afraid of being alone with her. In fact, he’d looked forward to spending time alone with her all day. It was not nerves about the wedding night. If he was honest with himself, he looked forward to that too.
When he searched his mind, he realized that he was afraid of what she would think. When he brought her into the small, simple room they would share together, he worried that she would find it lacking. That she would realize she had made a horrible mistake.
The nerves in his stomach continued as he pulled the wagon to a stop. They intensified when he gave Agatha his hand to help her down, and she gave him the widest smile he had ever seen from her.
He tried to return it and hoped it looked as genuine as he wanted it to.
“I’m afraid it’s not large,” Elijah said, unlocking the door. “But, it’s been enough for me. I hope it will be for you as well.”
When he opened the door and allowed her to step over the threshold, he was surprised to see her smile widen as she looked around the small room with nothing more than a tiny kitchen, a table, a fireplace and a bed in the corner just large enough for two.
“It’s perfect,” she said happily turning to him as he closed the door. “Just like I imagined it.”
His eyes widened, not daring to believe what she was saying.
“You…you like it?” he asked.
With another, softer smile she moved over to him and, standing on her toes put her arms around his neck.
“I love it,” she said. “Almost as much as I love you.”
At her words, the nerves in his stomach disappeared completely. They were replaced by a light and joyous feeling in the middle of his chest.
“I love you too,” he said softly.
Their lips met, gently at first. A moment later, as Elijah wrapped his arms around his new bride, deepening their kiss, he knew that no man on earth could possibly be as blessed as he was.
THE END
The Privileged Bride Heads West
By Grace Weston
Book Description
THE PRIVILEGED BRIDE HEADS WEST
Brides of Laramie Book 4
A Western Romance Short Story
One bride's heartwarming journey about finding her place in this world...and finding her way back to God.
After the death of her father, the privileged life Victoria lived lost its appeal. She longs for a simpler way of life, where she can contribute to the household and be appreciated.
When Victoria meets Jimmy and sees the beautiful farmland he owns, she knows in her heart this is where she belongs. It's love at first site for both of them. But not everyone welcomes Victoria - the farmhand Jimmy hired gives her a bad feeling down to her bones, and her intuition has never failed her. Already worried Jimmy will not want to be with her once he finds out she can't cook or clean, she's unsure of whether or not she should warn him about the farmhand.
Can she convince her new fiancé that this man is bad news? Or will the warning come too late?
Chapter 1
Jimmy Fairchild was in heaven.
He stood at the edge of the vast, bare land and felt the soft, cool September breeze that signaled the end of summer wash over him. Looking out at the flat, green pastures, the mountains rising in the distance, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of the divine.
Jimmy was usually not the sort of man to romanticize. That was Billy’s job. Among their small band of ranch hands in the town of Laramie, Billy was always the optimist.
That was why it was strange that Jimmy Fairchild, who always worried about what the future would hold, always doubted that things would go well, was standing on this land, his land, feeling as though he could do anything in the world. Meanwhile, optimistic Billy Peters stood off on the road giving Jimmy words of caution.
“It’s not the best land for farming,” Billy said. “And, with winter coming on fast, you’ll have to stop construction on the house for a few months.”
“Thankfully I’ve still got a job with you,” Jimmy said turning to Billy with a wide, beaming smile still on his face.
“Unless you plan to fire me for leaving like Mr. Miles did with all of his hands.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that, Jimmy,” Billy said. Even so, his face remained impassive. Jimmy turned away from the paradise of the beautiful green field and stepped back to the earthen dirt of the road just off the property line.
“But, you still think I’m foolish for wanting to do what you did,” Jimmy said.
“I don’t think you’re foolish,” Billy answered. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made.”
“I’m running a farm, not a ranch,” Jimmy reminded him. “The workload will be much smaller.”
“From the way Matt Jacobs talks, it won’t be much lighter,” Billy said. “You’ll still need help.”
“And I’ve already got John Marx,” Jimmy reminded him. “I picked him up as soon as Miles let him go from the big ranch.”
Billy frowned as the two made their way back to the wagon they’d driven to mark off the lot.
“I still don’t know how good an idea that was,” Billy said. “Mr. Miles doesn’t tend to let good hands go for no reason.”
“He let you go,” Jimmy reminded him with a smirk.
“That was because he found out I was saving money for my own place,” Billy said. “John Marx…well…he doesn’t seem interested in owning his own land.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jimmy asked. “For me, I mean. I’ll have an experienced hand as long as I like.”
“If he is experienced,” Billy said.
“Of course, he is! He worked for Miles, didn’t he?”
“I just don’t think Miles would have let him go if he was as good as you seem to think he is.”
Jimmy had to admit that Billy had a point about that. At one time, both Jimmy and Billy had worked for Mr. Miles, who still owned the largest ranch in the area.
Miles had fired Billy when he found out that he was saving up to buy his own ranch. And, once Billy’s ranch had gotten started, Jimmy left Mr. Miles of his own accord to work with his friend.
Mr. Miles had not been happy to lose either one of them. In fact, Miles had done everything in his power to make sure that Billy and even Jimmy were not successful. The fact that Miles had let John Marx go without a fight was strange.
Still, Jimmy reminded himself, perhaps Mr. Miles had changed. People were known to do that.
The fact that he had let John go might not have had anything to do with the level of John’s work at all.
“No one knows why Mr. Miles does what he does,” Jimmy said. “By all accounts, he treated John terribly. Maybe he just thought John was a bit too odd.”
“He is that,” Billy said. “And that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
“But, it won’t necessarily affect John’s work here either.”
“Hmm,” was Billy’s only response as he sidled into the driver’s seat of the wagon. Jimmy hopped up beside him, and they started back down the dirt road.
“Even if you do have John to help,” Billy said after a moment’s silence. “You’ll still need someone to tend the house. Two men won’t be able to do that work alone.”
A blush came into Jimmy’s cheeks, and he looked down at his feet. He thought he knew what Billy was about to suggest and he was none too keen on the idea.
“We’ll manage all right,” Jimmy said. Though he knew he sounded as uncertain as he felt. “Maybe once the farm gets started,
I’ll be able to hire someone to look out for the house.”
“There aren’t many men here, if any, who are willing to do that kind of work,” Billy said. “And everyone knows hiring a woman to live on a farm with two men would not look proper.”
“Then what’s there to be done about it?”
“What you should do is get yourself a wife,” Billy said.
“You know there aren’t any wives to be had out here,” Jimmy said. “None of marrying age who aren’t spoken for.”
“That won’t stop you from writing back east like I did,” Billy said reasonably. “Even the pastor found a good woman that way.”
Jimmy bit his lip and felt his cheeks growing warmer. This was what he’d known Billy was going to suggest. Other men in town had already suggested it before.
They all said it was the surest way to find a bride if a man wanted one. They stated that, after the war, there were plenty of women looking for good men back east.
Jimmy knew there was a lot of sense in what they said. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t confident like Billy was, nor was he eloquent like Pastor Rhodes.
The sorts of letters he would send to a young lady would be as awkward and halting as his speech was. Besides that, …
“I can hardly speak to a girl face to face,” Jimmy pointed out. “How do you expect me to write love letters to one I’ve never met?”
Billy shrugged.
“You might be better at writing than you are at speaking,” Billy said. “Lots of men find that they are. And a girl agreeing to marry you before she sees your face, in your case, might be a good thing.”
Billy gave a teasing laugh and nudged Jimmy in the ribs as the wagon trudged on along the dirt road. Jimmy glanced up and gave his friend a small smile.
“But, she can always call the wedding off when she gets here, can’t she?” Jimmy asked. “What if she takes one look at me and decides I won’t do?”
