by Kit Morgan
His Forever Valentine
By
Kit Morgan
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
His Forever Valentine
(Holiday Mail Order Brides Book Three)
by Kit Morgan
Copyright 2014 Kit Morgan
Find other titles by Kit Morgan Including:
The Prairie Bride Series:
His Prairie Princess (Prairie Brides, Book One)
Her Prairie Knight (Prairie Brides, Book Two)
His Prairie Duchess (Prairie Brides, Book Three)
Her Prairie Viking (Prairie Brides, Book Four)
His Prairie Sweetheart (Prairie Brides Book Five)
Her Prairie Outlaw (Prairie Brides Book Six)
Christmas in Clear Creek (Prairie Brides, Book Seven)
The Holiday Mail Order Bride Series:
The Christmas Mail Order Bride (Book One)
The New Year's Bride (Book Two)
His Forever Valentine (Book Three)
Coming in February
Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.
Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For Trish, who better than anyone knows what it's like to think you want one thing, but wind up with something better ...
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Epilogue
About the Author
One
New Orleans, January 1871
Eugina Ridgley, of the Ridgley Mail Order Bride Service, had always been a risk-taker, no one ever said otherwise. When she believed in a cause, she believed wholeheartedly. This would explain the reason her newest client, Sequoia Rose Smith, rushed to the train station with a pillow stuffed under her dress. She was alone save for her escort Jethro, who followed at a distance, his keen eyes watching for any sign of trouble, which thankfully, they were able to elude.
Sequoia (affectionately known as Rose, because let’s face it, who names a child after a tree?) boarded without incident. The conductor, ever so gracious once he noted her delicate condition, took her satchel in hand and got her a place to sit.
Several men perused her lovely dark curls and violet-colored eyes as she passed, their own eyes alight with interest, until they noticed her mid-section. After that discovery each turned away, plopped into their seat, and searched for something else to study, even dust motes exposed by the sun’s rays would do. A pregnant woman traveling alone meant trouble, thus she wasn’t worth their time or effort to flirt with, no matter how pretty she was
Catching their sudden disinterest, Rose smiled. Mrs. Ridgley was right, men did steer clear of her when she appeared to be in a family way. Of course, the only thing Rose was expecting, (aside from what was stuffed under her dress) was to make the train station without incident and so far so good. But, one problem remained with the ruse; how, and more importantly, when was she going to remove the bundle of petticoats from beneath her clothing? She’d hoped to remove them and get them back in her satchel before she boarded, but arriving late, she hopped on the train instead. Now she had the disapproving eyes of several matrons staring her down, along with admiring glances from men who hadn’t yet seen her, ah … well … condition.
Rose would worry about the petticoats later. For now, she sighed in relief as the whistle blew and the conductor called out his last “all aboard!”
She’d done it! Rose was free from her life at Winslow’s Orphanage and on her way to the town of Nowhere to be a mail order bride! She was the third girl Mrs. Teeters sent out into the world this way, and Rose couldn’t be happier. The one drawback of being an orphan at Winslow, was reaching eighteen, and stepping out to be on your own. The prospects of such an undertaking were few, becoming a mail order bride not only provided the most adventure, but the safest option according to Mrs. Ridgley. So who was she to argue? Men frequented the city sections containing the orphanages, waiting for young girls gullible or careless enough to be snatched up and put to work in one of their “establishments”. Ones far from reputable, and once entrenched, it was impossible for the girls to escape …
Yes, she still had dangers to face, just getting out of New Orleans had been the first of many, but Rose had an adventurous spirit, and going west thrilled her to no end. What would life in the small northwest town bring, not to mention her future husband, Matthew Quinn? She had her entire journey to think about him and wonder. All she knew was that he was a few years older than her, educated, and his family owned the town mercantile.
Rose settled into her seat, sighed contentedly, and smiled in anticipation. As soon as she found an opportunity to lose her petticoats she would. In the meantime, she planned to enjoy the scenery, and dream of a new life full of adventure and romance in the wild west!
* * *
Nowhere, in the Washington Territory …
Matthew Quinn cautiously picked up the bucket of dirty water and carried the sloshing, smelly, vessel to the back porch of the mercantile. Once there he lifted the bucket higher, (careful not to spill) turned his face away in disgust, and dumped the water out. He closed his eyes when the subsequent splat resulted, lest he suffer any back splash, and waited before slowly opening one eye. He sighed in relief that he hadn’t spilled any on his boots, and turned to the door.
When had he become so fastidious? He’d never been this squeamish before he left for college. He’d studied science and doctoring for Pete’s sake! Had his hands in blood and guts up to his elbow at times, so why the aversion to some dirty water? He straightened his spectacles, stopped, and peered over his shoulder at the puddle in the street. Ah, yes … now he remembered ... Germs!
Ever since he read John Snow’s articles on the cholera outbreaks of Broad Street in London, he’d been horrified by them. The diseases, the fevers, the deaths, and of course the worst part, the epidemic proportions! Matthew cringed at the thought and went inside.
He set the bucket down, closed the door, and glanced around the kitchen of his family’s living quarters in the back of the mercantile. Not much had changed since he’d left. His parents had slapped a coat of paint on the place and had the front-sign re-done. Different curtains decorated his old room upstairs, and his mother used new china last night at dinner, but other than that, everything was right as he left it.
Nothing in town seemed to have changed either, in his four years away at school, and had he been gone, say, ten, he had no doubt the town would still be the same. He sighed, moseyed to the front of the store, and stopped up short. Some thing had changed ...
His mouth went dry, his knees became like jelly, and his gut twisted into a gigantic knot the likes of which he’d not felt in years.
She turned around, a vision of loveliness. “Matthew?”
Matthew’s spectacles, slowly slid down his sweat covered nose as his brain became fogged with mixed emotions. How could he have
possibly forgotten what this was like? Four years had passed since he’d seen her, and he was still tongue-tied in her presence! It wasn’t until his spectacles reached the tip of his nose, he got his wits about him.
He pushed them up into place. “Hello, Char … Charlotte.”
She gave him a dazzling smile. “I heard you came back early from school, but I never did understand why.” She sashayed her way to the counter, her cream-colored dress making a swishing sound as she approached. He fought against a lovesick sigh as he watched her. “Boston is such a lovely city, why would you ever leave?”
He swallowed hard. “Be … Because,” his voice squeaked. “I wanted to come home.”
“To Nowhere?” she asked with a raised brow. “Why Matthew Quinn, what did they teach you in that fancy school of yours? You had a chance to get out of this town and here you are, right back where you started.”
He studied her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her chestnut hair and hazel eyes had him mesmerized. She’d filled out during his four year absence, the willow-thin of adolescence blossoming into the woman she’d become. She stood looking at him over the counter, her eyes slowly taking him in, and he wondered what she was thinking.
Clayton Riley …
Matthew’s shoulders slumped. Of course, what else would she be thinking? Not a day went by when the man’s name didn’t leave Charlotte’s lips in some form or fashion. Hadn’t he gotten married recently? Matthew arrived on the afternoon stage only yesterday. His mother had been so occupied cooking his favorite meal she hadn’t much time to catch him up yet. He thought he’d caught some mention of it that morning, but wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy getting fawned over by his mother, not to mention several of her matronly friends, when he went to work. Thankfully, she was preparing lunch, and the matrons who frequented the mercantile in the morning hours had come and gone. Only Charlotte was in the store, alone … with him.
Matthew smiled.
“Has anyone told you what you’ve missed while being away?” Charlotte asked.
He shook himself. Was she trying to make conversation? It was usually the other way around. “No, not really. I got in yesterday. There hasn’t been time and …”
“Oh, well then!” she said as her eyes lit up. “Let me enlighten you as to all the latest happenings.” She leaned against the counter and stared up at him.
Matthew willed himself not to sweat. So what if the January winds howled outside, he’d never been able to remain cool and calm where Charlotte was concerned. “Do tell?”
“Oh yes, I’ll tell!” she laughed.
His eyes widened at the sound. Good Lord! She had to be the most beautiful woman in the world! “Well?” he croaked. “What have you to report?”
She straightened, sighed, and picked at one of her gloves. “Of course you’ve already heard Clayton Riley got married.”
His heart sank. She appeared so forlorn when she said it. “No, I hadn’t.”
She let out a long sigh. “Spencer too, just last week, in fact.”
“Both the Riley brothers are married?” That was news. Clayton and Spencer Riley had been the most eligible bachelors in town for years. Now, both were out of his way! Matthew again smiled, broader this time.
Charlotte noticed and smiled back. “Recently, within a few weeks of each other. Too bad you missed Spencer’s wedding. It was quite nice. And Billy the deputy, you remember him? Well, he married the same day.”
“He did?” Matthew asked and straightened. Three weddings in Nowhere so close together was unheard of! “Who did he marry?”
“My sister.”
“Abbey?!”
Charlotte’s eyes darted to the floor. She slowly moved away from him. “Yes,” came out a sad whisper. Matthew saw her shoulders droop for a scant second, before she turned. “Yes, quite a bit of marrying has been going on around here of late, too bad you missed it all.”
“Too bad,” he agreed as he gazed into her eyes. He swallowed, and before he thought to stop himself asked, “What about you, Charlotte, Are you going to get married?” He had to find out! A lot could have happened in the last four years. Who knew how many men came to town and decided to settle? His parents never cared for the Davis family, or to be more specific, Nellie Davis, and so didn’t mention them in their letters. But whom else had they mentioned? Drat it all! He couldn’t recall.
“I’m not sure if I’ll ever marry …”
His head shot up. “What?” he blurted. He’d been so busy trying to remember any mention of new settlers, he wasn’t sure if he heard her right. A miracle in itself, he usually couldn’t pry his eyes or ears from her.
She shrugged, and he noticed the tiniest hint of tears. He studied her, his heart hitching at the thought of Charlotte growing old, alone and unwanted. Unfortunately, what things he had heard since his arrival, involved Charlotte, none of them good. He decided he’d judge for himself if she was as bad as his mother said. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked after the Davis family last night at dinner … all that got him was an earful of Charlotte this, and Charlotte that, and this town would be better off without that Charlotte Davis …
She swallowed hard, straightened, and forced a smile. He knew it was forced by the way her jaw tightened. Matthew made a habit of studying every inch of her face, memorizing it every time he was with her as they grew up. A great sadness was now hidden within the tightness around her mouth, the furrow of her brow. He also remembered a great defiance, as if she shouted to the world, No! You’ll never break me! No matter how hard you try! Her one trait that annoyed people the most, but not Matthew. He deemed it a hidden strength of which she drew from when she needed it. Each time her heart was broken …
He’d witnessed Charlotte’s heart break apart piece by piece over the years, and before he went off to school. Her mother did the most damage, filling the girl’s head with ideas of marrying into the Riley family, and belonging to one of the biggest apple farms, if not the biggest in the area. Nellie Davis’s ambition had crushed her daughter’s heart one blow at a time, and Matthew often wondered if she hadn’t pushed Clayton on Charlotte so hard, would her feelings be the same for him? Or, traveled elsewhere if left to their own devices?
“Are you planning to attend the Valentine’s dance?” she asked. She walked down the length of the counter and ran a gloved finger along the polished wood as she went.
Matthew’s eyes gravitated to her small waist. Visions of dancing with her in his arms flooded his mind. “I hadn’t thought about it. I’d … I’d quite forgotten about the dance.”
She turned to him, her face void of emotion. “I see.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a list. Without looking at him, she walked along the counter and handed the paper to him. “Here’s what I need.” She slowly raised her eyes. “It’s nice to have you back, Matthew,” she said softly. She then glanced to the front windows.
He took the list from her as his heart sank. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her. Where could the spitting, fiery, minx he’d left four years ago be hiding? Maybe what his mother said was true, that Charlotte had become a prisoner of her own actions, and now, sad and lonely, she was a far cry from the girl he grew up with. She’d told him last night what sort of gossips the Davis women had become, not to mention conniving and underhanded when it came to getting what they wanted. He was familiar with how Mrs. Davis could be. He’d witnessed her antics all his life. But Charlotte didn’t start to become like her mother until she got old enough to catch the eye of the young men in town. At fourteen she’d been a beauty, and actually quite sweet, even though she had a habit of speaking out of turn, and didn’t hesitate to fight for something she wanted or believed in. It was her strength, and he remembered it well. But what happened to quell her fighting spirit?
“I’ll get these things for you, Charlotte” he said gently. “Wait right here.” His heart went out to her. For the first time, Matthew noticed her melancholy, and realized she held something in
her eyes he hoped never to see. Regret.
Matthew decided to find out if what his mother said about Charlotte was true, and anything else mentioned regarding the Davis family. He needed to find the Charlotte he knew. She had to be there, she just had to! After all, she was the reason he came home.
* * *
Charlotte watched as Matthew climbed a stepladder to get a jar off a high shelf. He’d gotten taller since she last saw him, a lot taller. She remembered when they were the same height, and tried not to laugh as she recalled the time she’d punched him in the nose. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t do anything except stare at her, his fists at his sides, until finally, he just walked away. She’d given him a bloody nose and Abbey told her the next day he’d been furious, but that he wasn’t about to hit a silly girl. He wouldn’t be a man if he did, and besides, his pa would tan his hide if he found out about such a thing.
She studied him as he busied himself behind the counter to fill her mother’s order. His shoulders had become much broader, his hair darker. A dark blonde when he left, it was now a golden brown, still thick and with a slight wave. She remembered having her hands in it while playing in the creek down at Mr. Johnson’s swimming hole. She’d tried to dunk him after he called her a silly name. He dunked her instead, and so she’d taken two fistfuls and pulled him underwater. He in turn had grabbed her ankles and yanked her feet out from under her …
“What are you smiling at, Charlotte?”
Charlotte glanced up. Mrs. Quinn, Matthew’s mother, stood on the other side of the counter and stared at her. “Nothing. Just thinking.” She approached the counter and stole another glance at Matthew’s new muscular physic. He wasn’t the gangly boy who went off to Boston four years ago. No, Matthew Quinn may have left Nowhere a boy, but he’d most definitely come back a man.
