“Who are you? How did you get in here?”
The man laughed harshly. “The name’s Frank, darling. I see my son hasn’t mentioned me. Too bad. I told him what I would do to the one he loves. He must not have believed me.”
As he spoke, he drew a knife out of his pocket. Its edge glowed sharply in the small light as he advanced on her. “That was a very touching scene you shared in the foyer.”
“You were watching us?”
“Indeed I was. I’ve been trailing you since this morning when you arrived at the festival. After I saw that kiss, I came back here and waited for you.”
As he spoke, Bianca edged sideways and Frank matched her moves, circling her, as if toying with her.
“Why?”
“My son stole my wife from me and now I will steal his from him. I warned him long ago that I would.”
Sudden understanding dawned on Bianca. “You’re the reason why he’s been so hesitant to take our marriage forward.” She didn’t fully understand but she knew she was right.
The back of her legs hit the table behind her and she grasped a heavy paperweight before moving away and closer to the door.
Frank followed her but he was done talking. He lunged at Bianca with the knife but she threw the paperweight at him with all her might and it caught him on the side of the head, dazing him. Bianca didn’t wait. She pulled the door open and ran out of the bedroom and then out into the yard, screaming for Jonah along the way.
She heard Frank crash through the living room and follow her. She twisted back to look and slipped on the ice in front of her and fell. Frank was faster than he seemed and the paperweight hadn’t done much damage.
He covered the distance between him and his pray quickly. Bianca tried to scramble away from him but the ice was slippery and Frank got to her first. He turned her over and straddled her stomach. The knife glinted in his hand in the moonlight as he raised it above his head with a maniacal laugh. When he brought it down, Bianca braced herself, just as a loud boom shook the night air and Frank screamed in agony as the knife went flying and blood spurted from his hand. Another boom and Frank’s shoulder jerked and he fell back away from Bianca.
Jonah came up alongside her, shotgun to his shoulder. He pulled her up with one hand, keeping the other steadily on the trigger of the gun firmly aimed at the other man. Bianca scrambled up and Jonah swept her behind him.
He slowly advanced on Frank but the man didn’t move. When Jonah stepped over him, he was surprised to see Frank looking at him with wide, glazed eyes. A dead man’s gaze. Jonah turned him over and found the knife Frank had used on Bianca lodged in his back. It must have landed hilt first in the snow when it was shot out of Frank’s hand and Frank had impaled himself on it when he fell back from the second shot.
Jonah felt nothing but relief. The shadow specter of Frank Cassidy was no longer hanging over his life like a gloom. He was free.
The next week, on Christmas morning, Jonah and Bianca sat down before the hearth and sipped on hot chocolate. They had a pile of wrapping paper flung all over the living room and both were as giddy as children as they took in their gifts. Jonah excused himself and went to his room. When he came back out, he had a small package wrapped in gold with a red bow in his hands.
Bianca looked at him curiously when he presented it to her. I bought it a month ago but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give it to you. At least, not until the Christmas Festival. I had already decided that I would give it to you that morning and Frank’s demise just gave me more of a confirmation.
“I am sorry about what he put you and your mom through, Jonah. I am glad he can’t hurt you anymore.” Jonah had explained everything about Frank to her after that fateful night and Bianca was glad Jonah was finally able to move past it.
She carefully unwrapped the package and opened the small box inside. The gift inside stunned her. Jonah knelt next to her.
“I know I said when I met you that I did not want a wife, only a maid. But you changed all of that. You turned my world upside down. You are genuine and generous, practical and fun. I can’t imagine anyone else that I would rather spend the rest of my life with. We have been married for several months now but as of yet, we have not lived as husband and wife. But I love you and I want you to be mine alone. Bianca Cassidy, would you be my wife and companion from this day on for as long as God gives us breath to share?”
Bianca just stared at him. Her Christmas miracle had occurred. He was everything she ever wanted and she loved him with all that she had.
Bianca leaned forward and kissed Jonah. She didn’t have words to say what she wanted to say but he knew what she was saying all the same. He slipped the ring on her finger and enfolded her in his embrace.
*****
THE END.
Alone and Pregnant
Mail Order Bride
Christian Michael
Chapter 1
A lone bird sang as the preacher’s droning voice washed over her. For once, the good Reverend Josiah Clark’s monotone was perfect for the occasion. Jillian closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on what the man was saying. Her husband lay in the simple pine box deep within the hole. It was her duty to listen and play the dutiful widow.
The bird sang again, a lilting trill that seemed out of place in the midst of the gloomy ceremony. Jillian risked a glance upward, peering through the spreading branches of the old oak until she spotted the little brown bird just as he opened his beak once more. The beautiful melody came again. A beautiful song from a plain little bird.
The woman beside her shifted. Jillian pulled her gaze away from the bird and tried again to listen to Reverend Clark. She could feel the irritation radiating from the black draped woman beside her. Clarence’s mother never could stand any deviation from her carefully laid plans, even something as small as a bird singing during her son’s funeral service.
The bird had better beware or the song he sang so charmingly would be snatched from his lips. Mrs. Vandergeld had no room in her life for singing or beauty. Or maybe it was just that the joy that created such things could not exist under her autocratic thumb. Either way, Jillian needed to be gone before her mother-in-law discovered the secret hidden beneath her mourning dress.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, Lord into your hands we commit the body of our brother, Clarence Vandergeld.” Reverend Clark closed the worn bible in his hands and bowed his head. The throng surrounding the open grave followed his lead.
Jillian was grateful for the black veil that hid her face. She didn’t think she could hide the contempt she had for the lot of them. Not today. None of them came for Clarence’s sake. His death would leave no holes in their lives. Chances are it wouldn’t cause the slightest ripple in the well-ordered world of the upper class. They came because it was the polite thing to do … and because Mrs. Vandergeld would know and mark those who did not attend.
Mrs. Vandergeld ruled her society followers like a queen, granting favors to those who pleased her and social ruin to those who offended her. Jillian didn’t know why they stood for it.
She wouldn’t have to put up with it for much longer. Clarence was dead, killed by a fall from his horse when he was too drunk to stay in the saddle. Jillian was free. Free of his whining, free of his drunken attentions, and most important, free from his mother’s control.
A smile curled her lips, the first in many months.
* * *
“How can you do this to me, Miss Jones?” David paced the room, refusing to look at the plump woman sitting beside the fireplace. Her gloved hands stayed neatly folded on her lap, her skirt and shirtwaist perfectly pressed, and a silver pin held a tiny pink rosebud at her throat. Her calmness served only to increase his frustration.
“Mr. David, you know I’ve been stepping out with Hank Brewster for a while now.” The blush that spread over her face looked odd on a woman old enough to be his mother. “Now that we are married, it is only right that I give up my position here to keep house for
my husband.”
David swallowed the growl that threatened to rise up again. “Aren’t you happy here, Miss Jones? Haven’t I been good to you?”
“It’s Mrs. Brewster now.” The blushing bride stood up with all her matronly to stand in front of him. “Mr. David, you are a good boy and have been a good employer, but it is every woman’s dream to have a man who loves her. Part of that is making a pleasant home for him and growing old together. Mr. Brewster and I are no longer young and we need to make the most of the time we have left.”
All the anger and frustration leaked out of him with a sigh. David bent down to kiss Miss Jones … Mrs. Brewster’s cheek. “I will be lost without you, Mrs. Brewster. Hank is a very lucky man and I hope you will be very happy together.”
His former housekeeper patted his cheek. “Why don’t you find yourself a wife, Mr. David? A sweet, pretty, young thing that will keep your house and make you happy. Even God said it isn’t good for a man to be alone.”
“I have no desire for a wife.” David shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what to do with one.”
His former housekeeper laughed. “Oh, Mr. David, you have such a good heart, you will figure it out someday.”
David walked her to the wagon where Hank Brewster watched the house anxiously. When the grizzled old farmer saw his bride, his face lit up until he looked years younger. Perhaps he had been afraid David would talk his wife into staying on. Seeing the two beaming at each other as though nothing else existed, David knew he never could have done it.
Forcing a smile onto his face, David kept it firmly in place as they drove away. It wasn’t until the wagon and Mrs. Brewster’s cheerfully waving hanky disappeared behind a plume of dust that David let his face relax.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, David stalked through the spotless house. Slumping in his chair, he stretched his long legs out and crossed his ankles. Following Miss Jo … Mrs. Brewster’s advice was all well and good, but where was he supposed to find a wife way out here? There were few unattached women in this dusty stretch of plains and those were not exactly prime marriage material.
David scowled morosely into the empty fireplace and tapped his fingers on the paper lying on the table. There had to be someone who would stay with him and keep house. He had enough to do running his fledgling ranch without being burdened by cooking and cleaning as well.
He glanced down at his desk. The paper under his hand was unfamiliar, had Miss … Mrs. Brewster left it behind? An advertisement glared out at him in bold text.
Lonely on the plains? Desolate in the mountains? Find the perfect bride from among hundreds of lonely women from back East. Advertise with the Matrimonial Times!
It couldn’t hurt to try. He hated being alone.
Chapter Two
Jillian nodded at the servant hovering at her side, wordlessly accepting the offer of dessert. Even after a full meal, it seemed like she couldn’t get enough.
“You have had enough, don’t you think?” Mrs. Vandgergeld’s sharp voice cut through the otherwise quiet room. “I noticed at the church that you seem to be putting on some weight. I will not have you mocking dear Clarence’s memory by getting fat.”
The servant stepped away from the table and disappeared through the door to the kitchen. The older woman’s plate was heaped with the sweet without any thought for ‘dear Clarence’s memory’.
Holding her hands in her lap, Jillian twisted the linen napkin between her fingers. “I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t noticed such a thing.” Sara, her maid, had said something similar when tightening the laces of her corset this morning. Jillian pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. She would have to leave sooner than she thought.
“I will inform the kitchen that your diet is to be strictly monitored. We have an image to maintain and I will not have your base background ruin it. I really do not know you managed to beguile dear Clarence into marrying you. He always had such refined taste.” The older woman’s voice broke and she dabbed at her eyes with a lace hanky.
Jillian bit the inside of her cheek to keep from opening her mouth. She had no desire to speak ill of the dead and telling her mother-in-law the truth about her son would only cause more pain. As demeaning as Mrs. Vandergeld had been to her, the woman had doted on her only child.
Perhaps that had been Clarence’s biggest problem. From childhood, Clarence had been given anything he asked for. He didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. A year ago, he had visited Jillian’s school in the company of a friend and had promptly fallen head over heels in love. He had wooed her with flowers, poetry, and pretty trinkets until Jillian’s head was quite turned.
Orphaned at a young age, she had been raised by relatives until she was old enough to go to boarding school. They paid for her education and basic necessities, but she never went home for holidays or vacations. Jillian had grown up with the knowledge that she was unwanted by her own family, a burden they resented.
Now a handsome young man, a gentleman raised to privilege and wealth, spoke to her of love, family, and marriage. He begged to take her away and treat her like a queen. He promised to shower her with gifts and make her happy.
Alone in her room, Jillian could remember that innocent girl and forgive her weakness. Unloved and unwanted, she had been desperate for someone to need her. That schoolgirl had no way of knowing that the Clarence’s handsome face and smooth ways hid a selfish child that quickly tired of his new toy and was soon out looking for something more exciting. Jillian had kept her vows and ignored the shame he heaped on her head. She had not wished him dead, but felt no sorrow that he was gone.
Jillian waited until Sara left the room, her evening duties done. Then she crept from the bed and pulled an old carpetbag from its hiding place in the closet. It already held the few dresses that she had brought with her before Clarence and his mother decided they were unsuitable.
Lying on top of the old dresses was a paper, the Matrimonial Times, smuggled in when her mother-in-law wasn’t looking. Mrs. Vandergeld would never allow her to use such an unsophisticated method to remarry, but Jillian refused to let the woman control her life any more. She would escape this stifling place and find her own way in the world. A place where her child could be raised safe from the corrupting influence of this house.
Waiting just long enough to add a few necessities, Jillian dressed in the darkness and opened her door. The house was silent. Mrs. Vandergeld insisted on an early bedtime for everyone except Clarence. Jillian felt her way down the shadowed hallway and down the stairs. Pale moonlight flooded the entry hall as she opened the front door. With a deep sense of freedom, she pulled the massive door closed behind her and set off into the night.
* * *
With a grimace, David managed to choke down the congealed mass of half cooked porridge. In the weeks since Mrs. Brewster left, he had learned to eat fast enough to avoid tasting anything. He hoped he would receive a reply to his advert in the Marriage Times soon. If he had to rely on his own cooking much longer, his attempt at ranching would be short lived indeed.
He stuck the spoon into his bowl and shuddered when it stood straight as a flagpole in the cold lump that remained. Nope. Enough was enough. He would ride into town for at least one decent meal. He had planned to dredge out the waterhole today, but that could wait. There was water enough, at least until summer came to suck it dry.
Today he was going to eat real food for a change.
The big buckskin gelding seemed to share his mood and set out at a pace that he could hold for miles. It would take half a day to reach town, but it would be a chance to catch up on the news and stock up on some supplies. Maybe he would be able to find a housekeeper this time, just in case his advert didn’t work out. There had to be someone willing to do a bit of cooking and cleaning in exchange for a place to stay and a small wage.
The sun was high and hot on his shoulders when he rode into town. It wasn’t much of a place, but it met his needs well enough. He pulled up in fron
t of the hotel and swung down from the gelding. He took off his hat and used it to beat the worst of the dust from his chaps. Miss Millie wasn’t fond of cowboys bringing trail dust into her place.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Miss Millie, a middle-aged woman with a girth wide enough for two women bustled up to him and pulled him down for a hug. Millie liked to think all the men in town were her sons. “You sit right down boy and I’ll bring you some vittles. It looks like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”
David grinned and sat at a nearby table. “Well, Miss Millie, there has been stuff getting to my stomach, but I don’t know as I would call it eating. Nothing like you make, anyhow.”
The portly woman tsked and shook her head. “Sally, Mrs. Brewster left you months ago and you ain’t found anyone to replace her yet?” Millie set a plate stacked high with steak and potatoes on the table in front of him. David closed his eyes and savored the rich smells.
“Smellin’ it don’t get it into your belly, boy. Dig in.” Despite her gruff words, Miss Millie smiled and patted his shoulder. She poured a cup of coffee and sat across the table from him. “Now how come you’re still alone way out there?”
Chewing slowly, David considered his answer. “Well, ma’am, it is being way out there that causes the trouble. I can’t find anyone willing to come live with me so far from town. Especially since I can’t pay much until I sell some of my herd. Mrs. Brewster told me to find a wife.”
“A wife is just the thing you need.” Millie leaned in and whispered, “who you got in mind for courtin’?”
“There aren’t so many single women around here, Miss Millie.” David looked down at his plate and concentrated on cutting his steak. “I put an ad in the paper.”
“What was that boy? You’re mumbling.” Millie narrowed her eyes.
“I put an advert in the Matrimonial Times. I’m hoping to get an answer soon.” David refused to look up and he could feel the blood heating his cheeks.
[2015] Cowboy Saves a Widow Page 35
