Chapter 7
Helen kept her distance from Samuel for the next few weeks. They spent Thanksgiving with the Grays and had stilted conversations throughout, but the rift was clear. Something from what she’d said that night had built a wall.
At times she hated herself for that fact, but then she realized that what she said was true. She didn’t know if she could love again. Didn’t know if she deserved to, really. All of her angry words to God had to have some effect at some point.
Today she sat in the front room, the stew cooking on the stove and her sewing occupying space on her lap, though she hadn’t sewn a stitch in the last twenty minutes. She was worried about Samuel. He’d left earlier than usual that morning, talking about part of a herd that he needed to bring closer to the barn before the storm. But then the storm had begun and she hadn’t seen him since.
Was he all right? When would he get back?
She worried her lip, her fingers creasing and re-creasing the fabric in her lap. He had to be all right.
A sudden thought grabbed her attention, demanding she realize the possibilities. What if he wasn’t all right?
“No, God, please!” Sewing forgotten she stood and paced to the window. The world of white outside captured her attention. It was difficult to see the barn, let alone anything else.
Worry fled through her. God wouldn’t take yet another man out of her life, would He?
Samuel’s words came back to her. God does love you, despite what you may feel or believe.
She had believed for so long that He didn’t care, that He wasn’t interested in her life, but seeing Samuel’s faith rocked the convictions she thought she held. He believed that God was good and had good things in store for His children. Samuel also loved her selflessly, saying that he modeled it after how God loved us.
She paced in front of the fire, the embers reminding her of that night…
The memory of his lips pressed against hers, his arms wrapping her up tightly against him and the safety she felt with him…her heart pounded at the thought of never having that feeling again.
She frowned. Was she betraying Alexander by having these feelings?
But he was gone. The ache wasn’t as strong as it used to be when she thought of that truth. He was gone and he had been gone for nine months now. You couldn’t betray someone who was no longer in your life.
Stealing another glance out of the window, she thought back to Samuel—Sam. His face had taken on a life of its own. He no longer reminded her of Alexander because he had become his own person. He’d become unique to her.
The room felt warm as she pressed a hand to her forehead, the realization dawning on her.
She loved him.
The constriction in her chest eased and she took in a freeing breath. She did. And she wanted to tell him—immediately. But he was gone.
The agony came back again. He had to be all right. She had to tell him that she loved him.
Sinking back into her chair she closed her eyes, hands gripping the arm of the chair like a vise. Lord, she prayed, keep him safe.
Samuel fought his way toward the shape that he assumed was the barn. He’d been caught in the middle of the storm and almost lost his way, until he’d seen the lights of the house shining out like a beacon.
He lifted up a prayer of thanks when he finally reached the large wooden structure. Securing his horse inside, he made it across the yard, the wind tossing cold pellets of snow and ice against his exposed face.
Though it was hard to tell in the storm, he assumed it was late. He didn’t know how late, but he knew she was probably worried—more worried than someone else in her situation after what had happened to her with her husband and then Jack.
He hated the fact that he had caused her worry, but he was grateful for the fact that she would soon have her fears alleviated. Maybe the Lord could use this to strengthen her faith once again. It was a prayer he’d been offering up frequently.
Busting through the door, he heard her cry out right before she plowed into him, her arms wrapping around his torso in a tight grip.
“Easy now,” he said, laughing. Making sure the door was firmly shut he leaned back to look into her face. “Helen? Are you all right?”
She returned his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I thought—I mean…”
“I know,” he said, brushing off the snow from his coat that had fallen onto her shoulders and hair. “But I’ll be all right. Everything is okay.”
“I know,” she said, stepping back so he could slip out of his coat.
She trailed him into the main room where he stood by the fire to warm up. She stood close and he almost laughed, wanting to reassure her he wasn't going to up and disappear on her, but he understood her fear.
Finally, when he could feel his fingers, he turned toward her. The look on her face went straight to his heart. “What is it?”
She stepped closer to him, so close he almost stepped back, but he caught himself before he did. Her hand rested against his chest and she stared into his eyes.
“I was so frightened. So afraid something had happened,” she said, her nearness throwing his concentration off. “It made me see that I was wrong.”
His heart thudded directly under the place where her hand rested. He wanted to wrap her up and never let her go, but he wanted to hear what she had to say more than that.
“What do you mean?”
“I care for you, Sam. Deeply.”
Her words landed heavy on his heart, throwing him off balance. These last few weeks he’d been under the impression that she may never love him—not truly—and now she was confessing that she at least had feelings for him.
“I should have gotten lost sooner.” He grinned, the words coming out before he could stop them.
To his relief, she smiled as well. “I should have known sooner.”
This time he eased his arms round her waist, drawing her near and ducking his head so it was only inches from her face. “I have a lot of patience.”
Then she rose up on her tiptoes, closing the space between them. But, before her lips could touch his, she whispered, “Samuel.”
His eyes close and he fell into the reality of their love. It was more than he could have asked or hoped for, but it was just another aspect of how the Lord took care of His children. The gift of Helen’s love was greater than anything Samuel could have deserved, but it was his nonetheless.
Epilogue
Christmas morning dawned bright against the white blanket of snow that covered everything surrounding their home. Helen sat in the quite of the morning reminiscing on the fact that she had more than she ever could have imagined.
Her gift to Samuel, a knitted pair of gloves, hat, and scarf, sat in the corner wrapped in brown paper. But it was the gift of her love that she was most anxious to give him. She hadn’t been able to say the words, still holding on to the love she’d had for Alexander, but as she and Samuel grew more comfortable around one another she knew that it was time to tell him.
She heard shuffling from the hall and looked up as Samuel came around the corner, his hair disheveled as always, his plaid shirt pulled taught as he stretched his arms above his head.
“Morning, Sam,” she said, smiling.
“Merry Christmas, love,” he said leaning to kiss her on the cheek.
Her heart swelled at his words and she couldn’t wait any longer.
“I have something I want to tell you.”
He frowned, looking up from where he stoked the fire. “What’s that?”
She waited until he came around to face him and held his hands between them. Her eyes sought out his, seeing love and tenderness written there. He loved her already and she knew the words were merely a formality, but it was suddenly very important that she tell him how she felt.
“Samuel,” she said, her voice soft and low, “I want you to know—on Christmas Morning of our first Christmas together, that I love you.”
His eyebrows shot
up and a smile erupted onto his face. “I love you too,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “And I have for a while now.”
She smiled, laughing at him. He always made her laugh and she loved that.
“I know, and I'm sorry I haven’t told you until now.”
He tilted his head to the side and leaned down, kissing her one more time before drawing her into his warm embrace. “Things take time, and things that last sometimes take even more time. I’m happy you told me now so we’ll always have this memory of our first Christmas together.”
She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes.
She could hear his strong, solid heartbeat and it reminded her that God’s plan had been for her good, no matter what she’d first thought. She wouldn’t have chosen the path that led her to Samuel’s arms, but she would never doubt the Lord again.
He was her provider and he had given her Samuel to love. It was her perfect Christmas gift and a promise for the years to come.
Book 2 - A Christmas Bride for Cowboy Andrew
From The Mail Order Brides of Haven, Arizona Series
Jenny Creek Tanner
Chapter 1
Haven, Arizona Territory | April 1866
Andrew Williams squinted against the sunset light hanging low over the horizon. He looked out once more over the herd, and then nodded to one of the hired hands.
“I’ll be back out at first light.”
“See you then.”
Andrew waved goodbye to the other men and turned his horse around. If he hurried he’d make it home before his mother went to bed. Hopefully.
His stomach clenched when he realized he hadn’t seen her in a week. What kind of son was he?
A busy one with lots to take care of. Yet the excuse didn’t sit well. He could make time for his mother—should make time for her.
Groaning, he kicked his horse into a canter. Before long the ranch house became visible. After a stop at the barn to water and feed his horse, he headed for the main house, his body stiff and sore. Lying on the cold ground for a week straight had that effect on him, and he relished the thought of spending a night in his own bed.
“Ma?” he called out, stepping into the quiet house. There was no response, and he wondered if she had gone to bed. It was still early, though, and surely she didn’t retire until the sun set fully.
He dropped his saddlebags, jacket, and hat near the front door and walked down the hall toward the kitchen. A light shone back at him. Good, she was still awake.
“Ma?” he called again.
“In the kitchen, son,” she replied.
The sight that met his eyes brought a smile to his face and a grumbling to his stomach. The amazing scent of baking bread mingled with something that smelled like stew, the perfect homecoming meal.
“Are you hungry?” she said without even turning around. How did she always know when he was behind her?
“You know it.”
“Have a seat.” She turned around and brought a steaming bowl and a small plate with two thick slices of bread on it. “I’m glad you’re home tonight.”
He felt the twinge of guilt again. “I'm sorry, Ma. I know I’ve been gone an awful lot lately.”
“You have,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But I understand.”
There was sadness in her eyes and he wondered if she did understand, or if she was just saying that. She turned around and went back to the stove.
“Are you joining me?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He considered her, eyes narrowing. She looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her. Was she not eating?
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Me?” she turned back around, a half-smile on her face. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand, could use a few extra meals.”
“I’m all right. Been busy with the new herd. Got Jenkins out there tonight which means I can stay here, but I’ll need to go back tomorrow morning.”
“So soon?” she said, frowning.
He let out a sigh. Ever since his father had passed away five months ago he’d faced those eyes so easily filled with sorrow. She wanted to talk about Pa, to reminisce, but that was too painful. It was easier to be busy. To put the memories behind him. Plus, he wouldn’t be responsible for losing everything his father had worked for.
“Ma, you know what I’ve said. There’s—”
“Too much to be done.” She finished his sentence and slumped down into a chair across from him. “I know, son. But your work leaves you no time for a home life.”
He frowned. “Home life?”
She dropped her gaze, playing with the end of a dishtowel. “I was hoping that…well, maybe you would consider…marrying.”
He laughed, his spoon clattering to the tabletop.
“Marrying? First off, are there even women of marriageable age in Haven? Secondly, I hardly have time to see you let alone a wife.”
“I know,” she said, glancing up. “Selfishly, I was hoping finding you a wife would keep you here more.”
“I’m sorry, Ma.” He felt her disappointment in him. “It won’t always be this way, but right now I have no time for marriage.”
She didn’t look convinced but stood, turning back to the stove again. “If you say so.”
Massachusetts | 1866
Harriet Dunning wiped her sleeve across her forehead, wishing she were anywhere but here. The Lowell Mill textile factory housed more women than she could count, and the body heat only aggravated the problem along with poor ventilation and strenuous work.
This wasn’t the life she’d envisioned when she moved to America.
“Get that cart to the other side, girl, or I’ll have you fired!”
Straightening, Harriet nodded, “I'm sorry. I’m going right now.”
“You’d better,” the woman said, her voice louder than an opera singer but nowhere near as lovely.
“I'm going that way too,” said a soft voice next to her.
“Lucy,” Harriet said, smiling at the girl a few years younger than herself. “How are you?”
She shot a quick glance over her shoulder and waited until they were walking to the other side of the factory before answering.
“I'm tired today. Mother’s been sick so…I’ve been up late with the baby.”
“How is poor James?” Harriet thought of the small, one room apartment Lucy shared with her three siblings and mother.
“He’s still colicky but he’ll be all right. I’ll pick up an extra shift tomorrow so that will pay for the medicine he needs.”
Harriet shook her head. “I don’t know how you can do that. You’re practically asleep on your feet as it is.”
“I do what I must.” She dropped her gaze to the handle of the cart she was pushing.
“Here,” Harriet paused in the dim hallway, pulling out a portion of her wages. She kept them with her at all times, not trusting the occupants of the tenement building where she lived with three other women. “Take this. Buy his medicine and some soup. That way you won’t need to pick up that shift.”
“I can’t take this. It’s your traveling money.”
Harried smiled at the girl. “I’ll make more. You’ll see.”
The girl offered her a smile and pocketed the small amount of money like it was pure gold. “Thank you.”
They turned back down the aisle and Lucy asked, “Speaking of—do you know when you’ll leave?”
“I'm not quite sure,” she admitted. Her thoughts trailed to the railway prices she’d checked just the day before. At the rate her money was disappearing she wouldn’t have enough for five more months. “It’s more expensive than I expected.”
They deposited the carts and turned to go back the way they came.
“There may be an easier way,” Lucy said, sending a shy glance up at Harriett.
“What’s that, dear?”
“I overheard my friend Olivia talking about it. It’s something called a mail order bride.”
Harriet frowned. “A what bride?”
“Mail Order,” Lucy shrugged. “I guess men out west are looking for women to marry but there aren’t any, so they…order them?”
“In truth? That’s like slavery!” Harriet thought the idea sound awful.
“Oh, it’s not like that at all,” Lucy was quick to reassure her. “It’s completely mutual. I heard Olivia saying she was considering putting out an advertisement.”
“Where would someone go about finding this type of information?” Harriet didn’t want to sound interested, yet her curiosity was piqued.
“There is an agency on Fifth Street. A small one, run by a nice couple—so I’ve heard.”
Harriet turned her attention back to the walkway in front of them, weaving her way through the women who were coming and going.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Lucy put a hand on her arm. “Harriet, I know it sounds awful, but maybe it’s your opportunity to leave? Your way out? You’ve always said you wanted to marry a handsome cowboy and have a home.” Lucy’s smile was bright despite the dim interior of the factory.
“We’ll see,” she said, bidding Lucy farewell.
Walking back to her station, her thoughts were anywhere but on work. Being a mail order bride still didn’t seem like a wise choice, but who was she to say? Had the Lord placed Lucy in her path to direct Harriet’s steps in this way? Was this the way she’d find the home she’d always dreamed of out west?
Chapter 2
Haven, Arizona Territory | November 1866
Andrew felt the chill of the late afternoon sink into his bones. It was hard to believe that today marked a year since his father had died. They’d made it, and the ranch was in better standing than the same time a year ago as well, but something was missing.
Christmas Miracles: Mega Mail Order Bride 20-Book Box Set: Multi-Author Box Set Page 4
