The Outlaw Takes A Bride: A Historical Western Romance (Bernstein Sisters Historical Cowboy Romance Series Book 5)

by Amy Field

  Three months later, she decided it was time for her to return home and I legally adopted you and became your mother. A year after she left I received a letter from her. She told me she had reconciled with her family and that this was the last time I would hear from her.

  I can only imagine the hurt you must feel as you read this. My poor baby I am so sorry for not telling you and I hope in time you will come to forgive me and that the memories we shared as a family will always remain with you and give you strength.

  Love,

  Your mother.

  The tears splashed her warm cheeks and her whole frame shook as the weight of her mother’s revelation once again hit her like a ton of rocks.

  Mary remained in the house for the next two weeks, going over every single detail of the life she had with her mother. She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of any of her stuff. Every piece of clothing she selected to pack up for the Salvation Army she replaced on the rack as it reminded her of some special moment she and her mother had while her mother was wearing it. All the while her mind kept wandering back to the contents of the letter.

  She had another mother and she was Amish. How bizarre was that? Here she was, a twenty-something girl with a suburban upbringing, who'd never seen anyone Amish or been to an Amish village. As she pondered upon the words in her mother’s letter, Mary wondered if she really wanted to meet her real mother. Maybe she would have information about her father. If anything, she definitely needed some time away from the place that had made her so happy at one time and was now making her very depressed. Maybe a visit to her birth mother was just what she needed to do, to bring closure to all of this.

  After calling her travel agency to book a flight to Pennsylvania, she packed a suitcase full of clothes and took a cab to the airport – she was going to find her birth mother. Three hours later, she was at the Lancaster Airport. Using her phone, she googled the town of Faith’s Creek and her possible means of transport to get there. To her dismay, the only bus that went through that part of town wasn’t due to make a trip until the next day. She would have to rent a room and wait it out or she would have to hitch hike.

  She decided to book a room at a bed and breakfast that was in the vicinity of the airport. In the morning she would board the bus to Faith’s Creek. She settled into a small room that only consisted of a small divan bed, a chest of drawers, and a bed side table with a small lamp. The room, however, was well kept.

  At dinner the bed and breakfast's owner, Mrs Johnson, a kindly, elderly lady spoke to her briefly.

  "Are you visiting family in the area, dear?"

  "Well..." Mary wasn't sure what to say. Was she doing that, or just satisfying her own curiosity?

  Mrs Johnson seem to sense something, and a small, knowing smile appeared on her face.

  "You're no first person from the city to seek out Amish parents. A year ago we had a young man who flew halfway around the world to come look for... " her smile disappeared fo moment, and then reappeared. "I wish you all the best, may you find the peace you're seeking."

  And with that the old lady said good night.

  The next morning Mary was on the Greyhound bus headed for her destination. She was advised by the driver that he would not be going through the community and that he’d let her off at the nearest point. She was okay with that as she was sure some passer-by would give her a lift into town or she could just walk.

  When she was finally let off, all Mary could see was long stretches of white picket fencing which enclosed vast fields covered by sun-kissed grass. She decided to start walking and hopefully along the way someone would come by and assist her.

  “Need a ride?” asked a gravelly voice from behind the window of a car that had just pulled up alongside the road. Mary peered into the vehicle to see a man who looked to be in his mid-forties staring back at her. She was hesitant. She didn’t know the man and for all intents and purposes he could be a serial killer. She felt her body take on the defensive stance as she prepared to run or fight back.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured her as if reading her thoughts. “I’m just concerned that you might come to harm walking by yourself along this lonely stretch of road. Not many vehicles pass this way,” he finished.

  Mary decided it might be better to trust him than be stranded on this lonely road. She had tried to use her GPS but her phone died. She hadn’t remembered to charge it while at the B&B.

  Not giving herself time to second guess the man’s innocence, she reached for the car door, pulled it, and seated herself with her suitcase in her lap. This was in case she had to make a speedy exit.

  “I’m Tom,” the man said conversationally as he started the car.

  “I’m Mary,” she replied politely.

  “Where are you headed Mary?” he asked.

  “To Faith’s Creek,” she replied.

  The man let out a low whistle as he turned to look her over. His green eyes looked contemplative.

  “You don’t look Amish to me,” he mused.

  “I’m not,” she replied, simply not wishing to continue the conversation.

  The man seemed to recognize her reluctance to volunteer more on the topic and he remained silent for the rest of the journey.

  Mary could see the tops of houses and what she assumed to be barns in the distance, but none was close enough. She also saw windmills in the distance, their large blades spinning in a leisurely motion. The further they travelled; however, Mary could see the buildings take on more definite shapes.

  “Here we are, Faith’s Creek,” the man announced when they finally pulled into the small town.

  Mary could tell that the little square they had pulled into was meant to be the heart of the small town. Small shops and stalls were arranged along the stretch and a variety of colors and aromas assaulted her senses. She caught glimpses of what the shops had to offer, but the products on the stalls were on full display. She could see fresh fruits and vegetables, nuts, and canned products. Some stalls even had meat hanging on strings while others had baked goods and sweets.

  What most caught her eye were the people in town. The women were plainly dressed in dark colored clothing with aprons tied to the front. They wore a white triangular piece of cloth over their hair and boots on their feet. The men she could see had on shirts that were just as plain as the females’ dresses with little to no buttons. They wore pants with suspenders and straw colored looking hats. Apart from the car that she was in, there was not a single vehicle in sight unless you could classify the horse driven buggies along the side of the road that way.

  “Is there somewhere specific that you would like me to take you or are you fine here?” the man asked, bringing her out of her musings.

  She had been so preoccupied by the whole setting that she forgot someone was beside her. Turning her head in his direction she offered the man a grateful smile.

  “No, I think I will be okay from here, but thank you so much for your help,” she replied.

  “It’s no problem. I’m always eager to help a damsel in distress,” he grinned.

  As soon as the man drove off, Mary turned toward the stalls looking for anything resembling edible food. The trip had been a long one and she was truly famished. She soon spotted an elderly lady sitting by a stall that had an assortment of mouth-watering looking pastries. When the woman spotted Mary eyeing her goods she gave her a toothy smile and beckoned with her had for her to come closer.

  “What’re ye looking to purchase my dear?” she asked in a bubbly voice. “I have pies, cookies, muffins, a chocolate cake and this, our Amish specialty, a shoofly pie,” she rushed on before Mary could reply.

  “Well,” Mary started contemplatively while looking over the items.

  There was just too much to choose from and she feared she might decide to take a sample of each.

  “Why don’t you recommend what I should try?” she finally asked the woman who was anxiously waiting for her reply.

  “You must try the
shoofly pie - I know you will love it,” the woman instantly replied, clapping her hands together in excitement.

  As soon as she forked a piece of the pie into her mouth she wanted to spit it out. The bitter-sweet taste of the filling was quite unnatural and made her tongue feel heavy and sticky. She badly wanted to spit it out, but as not to offend the lady she gingerly swallowed the content in her mouth, not wanting it to clog her airways.

  “Mmmh, this is good,” she lied. “Can I have it wrapped and maybe a few of those cookies?” she asked, pointing to the large cookies that lay covered by plastic on a server. They looked scrumptious and appeared to have nuts baked into them. She only hoped the taste was as good as the presentation because she needed something to get rid of the bitter taste of the pie.

  “Very good, miss,” the woman replied with joy. She quickly jumped up, got a piece of wrapping paper, and secured the pie for Mary. She then took out four cookies from the platter and wrapped them just as she had the pie.

  “That will be $3.50,” she said, placing the items into Mary’s hands.

  Mary quickly fished out a twenty and the woman dug into the apron pocket for her change. She used the opportunity to get some information.

  “I’m looking for an Elizabeth Schrock. Is there any chance you might know her?” she asked the woman, who continued to rummage in her apron pockets.

  “No, I don’t think I do. I’m sorry, I am from the next community over,” she replied. She then turned her gaze on Mary and spoke. “You can check by the furniture shop over there,” she said pointing towards a large warehouse looking building across the paved street.

  After thanking the woman for her service, she crossed the street and headed for the building. When she entered, she was taken aback by what she saw. Every piece of furniture was made from wood, well crafted and unique. Not one piece was painted and she found she loved that they maintained the authenticity of the wood. She could see bunk bed frames, canopy Queen and King sized beds, low rosewood coffee tables, glass fronted bookcases, trophy cabinets, kitchen cabinets, solid oak desks and tables, walnut chests, carved dining chairs, couches, and arm chairs. She could see items for just about any room in a home.

  “May I help, miss?” asked a young female who sat by a desk at the front. Like all the women Mary had seen thus far she was also dressed in a plain navy blue tunic and her hair was covered by the same white cloth the others wore. She looked young, about fifteen. Mary wondered why she was here and not in school like any other teenager her age.

  “Yes, uh, I am trying to find someone,” she started while the young woman looked at her with a welcoming smile. “Elizabeth Schrock,” she said, hoping the girl would recognize the name. The girl looked to be thinking about her answer as if trying to place a face to the name.

  “I can help you,” came a deep husky voice just behind her.

  Turning around, she was met by the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. They were kaleidoscopic and seemed to be flecked with every shade of blue imaginable. She felt naked before them. It felt as if they were peeling her apart layer by layer and were staring straight into her soul. It unnerved her to be so affected by a simple stare yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from those beautiful orbs. Her hands felt clammy and suddenly speech was not forthcoming.

  “I know where her sister lives, and she could answer any questions you have about Elizabeth Schrock,” he continued to say.

  As he spoke, she took the time to give him a once over. He was tall but far from lanky, late twenties or early thirties. Although his outfit was loose fitting, she could tell that he was packing some well-toned muscles as his muscular arms were on display where his shirt was rolled up. He had a mop of curly dark brown hair framing the top of his head with a few strands dropping just above his dark eyebrows. His angular jaw was clean shaven, making it possible for her to determine that he was probably in his twenties like her.

  “Are you okay?” the man asked after waving his hand before her eyes.

  She hadn’t realized she had zoned out while he spoke and she felt embarrassment cause her cheeks to become flushed with color.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” she asked.

  “I was saying we could go now, if you like,” he repeated.

  “Yes, that would be nice, thank you,” she replied, slightly embarrassed.

  He gave a slight bow in acknowledgement before turning to the girl by the desk.

  “Abby, tell dad I had to leave. I will be back before closing,” he said to the girl who had remained at her seat, watching their exchange with curiosity.

  Martha wondered if they were related as she could see no resemblance between the two.

  “Yes, Abel, I will,” she replied with a smile. Turning her attention to Mary she continued, “I hope you find who you’re looking for Miss, and do stop by again if you ever need handcrafted furniture,” she finished with a sales pitch.

  Mary gave her a genuine smile before following the tall man outside. He must be well over six-feet, she mused to herself. Compared to him she was a dwarf. She had always thought she was above average at her height, but with him looming over her she had to think otherwise.

  When the man named Abel stopped at one of the horse driven buggies she had seen on the road she balked. As if sensing her hesitance, Abel turned to face her with an inviting smile.

  “Don’t worry, dear Old Milly here doesn’t bite. In fact she is one of the best behaving mares I have ever seen,” he said, encouraging her to come closer.

  His smile revealed perfect, straight-edged white teeth and transformed his face as his blue eyes became sparkling gems beckoning to her. As if by their own volition, her feet brought her over to him and closer to the huge animal.

  “Let me help you,” he offered, taking her suitcase and swinging it into the back of the buggy. He then turned to her and offered her his hand.

  Still hesitant about riding in the machine they considered a vehicle, she gingerly placed her small hand in his large one. As soon as their hands touched, she felt an electric current rush from the tip of her fingers up her arm and radiate throughout her entire body. It caused the fine hairs on her nape to stand at attention. Heat rose up her neck and she quickly ducked her head, hoping he had not seen her reaction to him. He didn’t release her hand, nor did he try to help her into her seat. There was silence as the two stood like statues by the side of the buggy the air around them crackling with static electricity.

  When she raised her head to look at him she realized that he was staring intently at her. His magical blue eyes had taken on a distinct shade – stormy blue.

  “Ahem,” he cleared his throat while averting his eyes.

  “Let’s get you into the buggy,” he spoke in an unusually high pitched voice and his face became tinted a bright shade of red.

  Mary smiled. He was nervous. It was sweet.

  After assisting her into her seat, he went to the opposite side of the buggy and got in. Taking the reins, he lightly slapped it against the horse’s back as he gave it a command to move off. The horse began to walk slowly before it started to trot down the paved road, its hooves clicking against the asphalt.

  “So, what’s your name?” Abel asked conversationally as the horse pulled the buggy further away from the semi-busy town to where the houses were relatively miles apart nestled on agrarian land.

  Mary looked over at his youthful face that housed the blue eyes that compelled her to share her soul with him.

  “Ohm, my name is Mary,” she replied softly, suddenly shy.

  “That’s a nice name,” he replied, granting her another of his radiant smiles.

  His smile was infectious and she found herself returning his. There was that invisible current that pulled them together again. Mary averted her eyes to break the connection. She did not come all this way to be swayed by pretty blue eyes on a handsome face and a smile that could make her swoon. She was here to get some closure. She wanted to see her real mother; to ask her wh
y she really gave her up. She wasn’t planning on staying in this town. It was too rustic for her liking.

  “So why are you trying to find Elizabeth Schrock?” Abel asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

  What was she to say to that? It was possible that not many of the people knew of her mother’s shame and if she shared her news with Abel it might just change her status in the community that she had given Mary up for.

  “I just found some information about her while I was cleaning up my mother’s stuff and I just need to get some things straight,” she replied evasively.

  Abel nodded his head in understanding, but as she began to relax he asked her another question.

  “I’m guessing your mother knew her well?” he asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his tone.

  “You could say that,” she replied solemnly, as she continued to stare straight ahead. This was another can of worms she wasn’t willing to open and she hoped that he wouldn’t ask any further questions about it.

  “Okay,” he replied simply. The words were final and conveyed his understanding that she didn’t want to talk about it any further.

  Mary was relieved.

  For the remainder of the ride they remained quiet, each in their own thoughts, mulling over the events of their encounter.

  “Here we are,” Abel spoke, breaking her out of her musings once more.

  Mary turned to him, confusion etched on her face.

  “This is Sarah Yoder’s home,” he answered her unspoken question.

  It finally registered to her that she had come to her aunt’s home and she turned to take in the scene.

  Behind a white picket fence lay a huge two story house that was painted white. It had a large porch and large windows on either side. Small patches of flowers were planted around the yard and highlighted the short path that led up to the house.