Love Inspired Historical November 2014

by Danica Favorite

  Hurt by his brother’s betrayal and the loss of Sally’s love, Jake had taken the bag he’d packed for his honeymoon and left. Since his parents had already moved on to be with the Lord, he knew John and Sally would take over the small farm. There was no place for him there any longer. He’d not looked back, except once a year to reflect on the pain his heart had endured and to vow never to allow another woman into it again.

  Maybe he was a fool, but Jake had taken the time to write his brother and tell him where he’d landed over the years. Jake had asked that they not write back unless he was truly needed and John had abided by his request.

  Jake had determined in his heart that he’d never fall in love again. It hurt too much when the one you loved betrayed you.

  Once she was seated, Leah spoke, pulling him from his sad thoughts. “Please, Mr. Bridges, sit down. I really don’t want to crane my neck to speak to you.”

  She seemed to have the upper hand in the conversation, so Jake did as she asked. He sat down on the footstool with his back turned away from the dining table where Mrs. Frontz and Molly waited. He could hear the older woman speaking to the child. Jake turned his attention to Leah. “All right, I’m sitting. What is it you have to say to me?”

  Leah dug into the pocket of her dress and pulled out an envelope. He watched her swallow as she looked down at the cream-colored paper. “I think it would be best if I just give this to you. Then you can ask me any questions you’d like.”

  He nodded his agreement and took the packet. Dread filled him as he turned it over. To: Jake Bridges. From: John Bridges was written across the front of the envelope.

  What could his brother have to say that hadn’t been said the day he’d left? He’d claimed to love Sally and couldn’t live without her. He’d begged Jake to understand and asked him to reconsider leaving. But none of that mattered. John and Sally had betrayed him and he couldn’t face them, not yet, maybe never.

  But why had John sent a letter with a complete stranger? He looked up at Leah Hollister. He saw sorrow in her eyes and a deeper sense of dread filled him as he slid his finger under the sealed flap and opened the envelope.

  He forced his gaze from her eyes and focused on the letter.

  Dear Jake,

  By the time you get this letter I will be dead. Sally passed away last night and the illness that took her has now consumed me, as well. I am writing this letter in hopes that you have forgiven us by now and that you will not hold our daughter, Molly, accountable for the harm that we did to you. Please take care of my daughter and love her as if she were your own.

  John

  More lines had been added below John’s signature but Jake couldn’t bring himself to read them, not yet. He stood and walked to the fireplace. He was thankful Miss Hollister didn’t say anything as he passed her.

  As surely as if someone had closed their hand about his throat, he felt the air squeeze from his lungs. Time had passed and with it the life of his brother. Never would Jake be able to make amends. He felt hot tears burn the backs of his eyes at what he’d lost and what his stubborn pride had cost him.

  That same pride forced him to read the elegantly printed lines below his brother’s. He flicked the paper open once more and continued reading.

  Mr. Bridges,

  Your brother passed away a few weeks ago. I am sorry for your loss. We will be sending his daughter to you since there is no room for another child at the orphanage and you are her only remaining relative that we can locate. It is our fondest hope that Molly will find her voice and happiness with you. Mr. Johnson, the bank president, has requested you contact him in regard to your farm.

  Mrs. Wilkins, Sweetwater, Texas.

  Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d lost his brother and was about to become guardian to a niece that he’d met for the first time moments ago. If he understood the letter correctly, Molly also didn’t speak. His throat felt dry, his eyes stung. His heart broke again.

  He stood and leaned his forehead against the cool rocks of the fireplace and grieved. Lord, what am I going to do? I have no room for a child. No place to keep her. I’m not sure I can do this.

  Copyright © 2014 by Rhonda Gibson

  ISBN-13: 9781460342466

  The Bride Ship

  Copyright © 2014 by Regina Lundgren

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  MISTLETOE MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

  When Jake Bridges suddenly finds himself the guardian of his orphaned niece, he knows he needs a wife. What does a stock tender at a pony express station know about raising little girls? A marriage of convenience to the child’s caretaker is the most practical solution.

  A mail-order marriage seems like Leah Hollister’s last chance to know the simple joys of family life. But then she receives word that her would-be groom is dead. Now Jake proposes she marry him. She knows love isn’t necessary. Yet the more she learns of sweet Molly’s kindhearted uncle, the more she dreams of a true partnership with the man who has unexpectedly captured her heart.

  “You will never want for anything as long as you are my wife.”

  Leah couldn’t find words to express how she felt. It was a lot to take in. She’d gone from having no plans or future to having a man offer her marriage and a daughter. She loved Molly, and yet she still couldn’t get out the word yes.

  Molly burst through the kitchen door and ran to Leah. The little girl grabbed her free hand and tugged for Leah to follow her.

  Leah gently pulled her back and said, “Go tell Mrs. Frontz that I’ll be there in a few minutes.” It was only after the little girl hurried away that she remembered Molly couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. How was she going to tell Mrs. Frontz what she’d said?

  She turned her attention back to Jake. He still held her hand firmly in his. “What about friendship, Jake? Can you allow yourself to be my friend?”

  He squeezed her hand gently and warmth filled his voice. “I will give you friendship and respect, and I believe we will get along fine, Leah. Just don’t ask for my heart…”

  Books by Rhonda Gibson

  Love Inspired Historical

  The Marshal’s Promise

  Groom by Arrangement

  Taming the Texas Rancher

  His Chosen Bride

  A Pony Express Christmas

  RHONDA GIBSON

  lives in New Mexico with her husband, James. She has two children and two beautiful grandchildren. Reading is something she has enjoyed her whole life, and writing stemmed from that love. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys gardening, beading and playing with her dog, Sheba. She speaks at conferences and local writing groups. You can visit her at www.rhondagibson.net, where she enjoys chatting with readers and friends online. Rhonda hopes her writing will entertain, encourage and bring others closer to God.

  A PONY EXPRESS CHRISTMAS

  Rhonda Gibson

  I will not
leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

  —John 14:18

  A very special thanks goes to Jean Williamson for all the wonderful resources that she provided to make this book possible. Thanks to Jean Kincaid, Kim Mort and Christina Rich. To James for your love and support, and above all, to my Lord and Savior.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  South Platte, Colorado

  Winter 1860

  “Rider! Coming in fast!”

  Leah Hollister didn’t have time to worry about her luggage tossed carelessly to the ground by the stagecoach driver, or the fact that the coach’s rapid exit had drenched her feet in wet, cold snow. She heard horse’s hooves pounding the ground, bearing down on her and the four-year-old child whose hand she gripped tightly within her own.

  “Move, lady!” Panic filled the male voice that called out.

  Leah scooped up the little girl and fled across the icy snow toward the porch of the large log cabin closest to her. Reaching it, she turned in time to see a young man on a horse speed past, leaping over her luggage with ease and heading toward a barn that was located on the far side of the house. Aware of the danger she’d just escaped, Leah’s hands started to shake.

  Two men were in front of the barn. One of them sat on a compact, sorrel-colored horse. The other man stood off to the side, watching the transfer between the riders, just as Leah was doing.

  The first rider handed a flat leather saddle bag to a man astride a mustang. As soon as the second rider had the bag, he laid low over his horse’s neck and was gone almost as fast as the first young man had ridden in.

  Leah stared after the rider until he could no longer be seen. She shivered as a blast of icy wind hit her uncovered face. Where was he going in such a hurry? Her gaze moved back to the barn and stable. The two other men had disappeared, presumably inside.

  Molly buried her face in Leah’s neck and shivered. She tried to burrow her slight body closer. One small gloved hand tangled in the opening of Leah’s coat, allowing more cold air in, while the other clung to her worn rag doll.

  Taking a deep breath, Leah walked back to their luggage, which still sat in the middle of the yard. Her tired brain tried to register what had just happened. Why had those riders been in such a hurry? What was in that bag that was so important? She’d never seen anything like it, but then, she hadn’t seen much of life outside of an orphanage. Even the stagecoach ride had been exciting to a girl who’d been so completely sheltered. It dawned on her that perhaps the stage stop was also a pony express stop as well.

  Her body trembled from cold as well as fright as she set Molly down and reached for the closest bag. The child’s feet went in different directions on the slick, packed snow and Leah grabbed for her, helping her to stand upright again.

  “You’re okay,” she comforted, but to her dismay, her voice wavered. Leah swallowed hard then leaned forward, determined to get her luggage and move them inside, out of the cold and out of danger’s way. As she reached for the handle, her weight shifted and she did a little dance trying to regain her balance, but she couldn’t stop the movement of her feet or the slickness of the ice underneath them. Leah’s boots slipped out from under her and she fell, face forward, into her suitcases.

  She groaned. This day had just gone from bad to worse. Tiredness lay on her shoulders like a mountain of snow on a small hilltop.

  A man extended a hand to help her up. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Leah pretended not to see his outstretched hand and used the nearest bag to push herself up from the ground. The toe of her boot caught in the hem of her dress. She groaned as she heard the tearing of fabric. Working to untangle her foot with as much dignity as she could muster, Leah pushed herself upright once more and dusted the snow from the front of her dark green traveling dress. “I believe so.” She felt Molly’s hand bunch up in her skirts.

  The sharp voice softened as he offered, “Here, let me help you carry these inside the station.”

  For the first time, Leah looked at the owner of the deep voice. He scooped up two of the larger bags and stood tall before her. She estimated him to be about six feet, maybe an inch taller. He wore what looked like a buckskin coat and a brown, floppy hat. Dark brown boots covered his feet. She couldn’t help but notice he also wore some sort of gun on his narrow hip.

  Her breath caught in her throat when she glanced up to find a pair of soft, coffee-colored eyes watching her. Eyes that earlier had been wide with concern now seemed full of unhidden laughter. Even so, she liked his eyes and the deepness of his voice.

  Embarrassed, Leah looked away; she pulled her short, threadbare coat around her. “Thank you for your help, Mr.—?”

  “Just Jake, ma’am.”

  “Jake.” The cold November wind pulled at her straight, mousy-brown hair, reminding her that she was no beauty and that she was soon to be a married woman. She raised her head. “I’m ready.” He nodded and then strolled to the front porch.

  A tiny hand tugged at her skirts once more. Leah reached down and picked up the little girl. Molly tucked a gloved thumb between her plump lips and laid her head on Leah’s shoulder. She knew Molly was tired from their trip. Warmth for the little girl filled her heart as Leah patted her back.

  Jake returned and picked up the other two bags. His gaze searched hers, a quizzical look in their depths. “You really should get inside, ma’am.” Once more he turned to walk to the porch.

  Leah nodded but didn’t move forward. She focused her attention down the snow-covered road toward the town laid out before her. South Platte, Colorado, a small town that was about ten miles from Julesburg, Colorado. From what she could see through the falling snow, South Platte had a general store, a restaurant, a blacksmith shop, a livery, a church, and from the sound of the piano coming through an open door, a saloon.

  Leah frowned. Did she really want to be here? She sighed. What other choice did she have? She had promised to deliver Molly to her uncle, Jake Bridges, and to marry Mr. Thomas Harris.

  Her gaze jerked to the wide shoulders and back of the man carrying her luggage. Could that Jake be Molly’s uncle, Jake Bridges?

  For the first time she focused on the house that served as the stagecoach stop and also functioned as a pony express home station. A large log house stretched out before her. Sheds, various outbuildings and the barn surrounded the log house. Even though it was early, a full month before Christmas, the house had red and green fabric twisted into a form of garland on the second-story railing. A Christmas wreath hung on the door.

  To one side of the house, a small grove of trees was the only vegetation in sight. The sound of running water had her looking over her shoulder at a river that was mostly frozen over. It wasn’t close to the house, so she felt sure Molly would be safe.

  The little girl shivered in her arms. Leah pulled Molly closer, realizing that every day she spent with her would make it harder for both of them when the time came to part. Leah would soon move out to the Harris ranch, and Molly would move into her uncle Jake’s home, wherever that might be.

  “Are you coming?” The man named Jake opened the door to the ranch-style building. His gaze ran over her and the little girl before he turned and stepped inside.

  His deep voice pulled her from the stupor she’d been in and Leah nodded. If he
truly was Jake Bridges, then Leah knew she’d have to get word to Thomas Harris of her arrival. Or perhaps she could hire Jake to take her out to the Harris ranch.

  Thomas Harris’s name whispered through her tired mind as she sat the child back down and scooped up the last remaining bag, Molly’s bag. She really didn’t know Mr. Harris, other than what she had read in the two letters he’d sent. They’d never met or exchanged pictures. The thought of marrying a complete stranger both scared her and offered a strange sense of comfort. Being Thomas Harris’s wife would give her a permanent home. Something Leah had wanted all her young life.

  Molly’s little hand tangled into her skirt once more, reminding her that she had to take care of the child before she even contemplated her own life. Molly had been Leah’s constant companion for over three months.

  Knowing cholera was sweeping Sweetwater, Texas, at a rapid pace, Molly’s father had brought her to the orphanage for safekeeping. The children and people who worked there very seldom came into contact with the town folks and he’d felt sure that Molly would be safe from the sickness that was sweeping the area. Then, when it became clear that both Molly’s parents had taken ill, Mrs. Wilkins, the headmistress of the orphanage, had placed the little girl in Leah’s care.

  Molly’s story was a sad one, for sure. Her mother had been the first to become sick. The poor woman died after several long days and then Molly’s father had taken ill. He’d struggled against death, knowing he’d be leaving the little girl behind. It was only after he’d written a letter to his brother and then extracted the promise from Leah that she’d take Molly to his brother in Julesburg, Colorado, that he’d finally given up his battle. Fortunately, Molly would grow up knowing her parents had loved her, unlike Leah, whose parents had abandoned her on the orphanage doorstep when she was less than a year old.