Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  “Charles was called on by a pregnant woman. He had to leave immediately and so I had to stay behind. That devilish man, Robinson! How could he be such a monster?!” Marie said with deep disgust.

  Before the man could reply, he was startled as Marie let out a loud gasp. He immediately turned into the direction she was staring and instantly realized why.

  From the southern side, where the flames were comparatively less than the other three sides, emerged Charles running swiftly towards her. She had never felt happier before than seeing him now. As soon as he approached her, he took her fragile arms into his strong ones and carried her in his arms towards safety. Marie gazed mesmerized into Charles eyes as they spoke nothing but concern for her. She felt enchanted, like a princess being rescued by a handsome prince. None of the princesses had been as lucky as her. As the thought crossed her mind, she chuckled. In his arms, she had no fright. She felt perfectly safe as she knew that that there was no danger as long as Charles was with her.

  After a few minutes, Charles had managed to take her to safety, completely unharmed. As he helped her down, she noticed the pain in his eyes as he stared into the distance. Turning her head, she realized that he was looking at the blazing crimson flames eating up his ancestors’ house. She could feel the agony that ran through his blood as if it were her own. Drawing close, she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his heart beating wildly. Running her fingers through his soft hair, she tried to soothe him down and make him speak.

  “Marie…” His voice was a whisper in the stillness of the night with only the cackling of flames echoing into their ears like poison being poured into them. She pressed her hands into his, feeling the beat of his pulse. Hearing his low voice, so dull, lacking any spirit made her feel like a hollow soul. The very thought made her shudder horribly.

  “My own house, Marie…my father’s, my grandfather’s, my ancestors’…burnt down. Tell me this is a dream. Tell me that I’m dreaming and that when I wake up, I can still see the pearly white magnificent mansion standing on that vey spot,” his voice shook with agony so much so that it made Marie feel as if someone had slashed an axe right through her heart. As she glanced up, she saw Charles Andrews’s eyes well and a stream of tears crawled down his face.

  She couldn’t stand it. The mere sight of it made her feel as if someone had slapped her face. The imploring look, the sea water flowing from the sky in his eyes and that agonizing tone.

  “Who would do this to me? And why? All my life I’ve helped people, never hurt anyone’s feelings knowing the delicacy of human emotions. Now, it feels like someone has snapped the only cord in my body that holds back tears, as though they can never be stopped.”

  “Philip Robinson.” Marie broke out.

  “What?”

  “It was Philip Robinson who hired a young man to burn down this beautiful house. The man told me that Robinson wanted to indicate this to you as a warning to shut down your clinic, or else worse things shall ensue. However, he had no idea that I was in the house; he had no intention of harming any human soul.”

  “That Robinson! That—”

  “No, Charles. Don’t. Don’t use words that would bring you to the same disgusting level as him. There is a vast difference between you two and I advise you to let it be there. You can never ever be as evil as Philip Robinson. You just can’t. Know why? Because there is a gentle, soft-hearted angel sleeping in your heart, Charles,” she smiled brightly at him, “the angel of forgiveness.”

  Those intense words touched his heart. He could not understand her skill of employing such deepness in her remarks. Suddenly, as he looked at her in the silvery light of the moon, she seemed more beautiful than ever. He was possessed by the wild urge to wrap his arms around her, to smell the lavender fragrance that escaped her skin and melt into her. Following his mad yearn, he leaned and took Marie in his arms.

  “Marie…” he whispered through her long soft hair. “You mean everything to me and I promise you that I won’t let anything touch even a single hair on your head.”

  At this, Marie dug his fingers in his chest and as the night began to grow, she slept in the warm confinements of his strong muscles.

  NINE

  As Marie woke the next morning, she felt a tightening in her chest. Immediately she woke up Charles and she told him about the pain she was experiencing in her chest. Charles was extremely alarmed by the news and declared that she was having asthma attacks due to the vast amount of smoke she had inhaled in the fire the night before.

  Instantly, carrying her in his arms, Charles rang the bell of his friend’s house, Mr. Parks who lived in their neighborhood. After Charles had briefly explained him the situation, Mr. Parks allowed them entry and immediately led them to a nice, warm room with a comfortable bed and a fire blazing in the grate. Gently laying her down on the bed, Charles began treating Marie. He then requested for some specific medicine.

  Mr. Parks was very generously and allowed them to stay at his house until their own house was rebuilt. During this time, Charles, instead of fussing over the fact that his treasury had obviously been burnt down and he was therefore left with hardly any money to rebuilt the house, focused more on Marie’s health. He looked after her all day long, sitting beside her and watching her sleep. His heart ached to think of the pain she must be undergoing, only because of Philip Robinson. Eventually Marie healed and began to regain her health gradually.

  As soon as Marie recovered her health, she reminded Charles that they should be making arrangements for their settlement as they had heavily outstayed there welcome. Much to their surprise, the townspeople decided to chip in money in rebuilding their house. They did not forget Charles good nature when he had treated their illness at a very cheap price. Though the new house would not obviously compare with their previous mansion, the Andrews are immensely gratified. Expressing their utmost gratitude to the Parks for allowing them to stay for quite a long period, Charles and Marie bid them farewell and moved towards their new house.

  Meanwhile, the young man who had told Marie everything about Philip Robinson’s plan, decided to come clean to the sheriffs due to his immense guilt. When Philip Robinson became aware of the confession, he fled the town before the sheriffs could catch him.

  The happy days gradually returned and things started returning to normal. Charles and Marie opened a clinic in their house and Charles continued to serve all the people by ensuring that the fee is affordable to each townsman.

  One year later, the most rejoicing moment ever entered the Andrews family when Marie gave birth to twins, a boy and girl. Charles could not be any happier. Thankfully, things remained running smoothly for the Andrews family. Charles and Marie loved each other more than ever and Charles’s clinic, much to God’s blessing, continued to flourish.

  The End

  9. The Indian Cowboy, The Bride & The Baby

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  EPILOGUE

  ONE

  Just A Teacher

  Clara Boyd liked to think that she was not the sentimental type, that she was the type of woman who was always objective and rational. She liked to think that, however untrue it might be. She imagined the beautiful faces of each of the children in her school room and felt a tug on her heartstrings. A piece of her heart belonged to each of those children, those boys and girls that she had, in her own way, help raise.

  Teaching was more than just a job for Clara. So often parents, when she gave them unasked for advice on how to handle the little lives God had entrusted them with, angrily replied that she was “just a teacher”.

  How can you be “just a teacher”? She had watched these children come to her when they could barely talk, let alone read and write, and together they unlocked the mysteries of the world together. She loved it, she loved them, with all
her heart.

  And yet, in spite of her unconditional love for her young charges, she wanted something more. She was not unhappy with her life, nor would she change a thing if she could do it all over again. But for all the experience she had with the children, she didn’t have one of her own. Of course, if she wanted children, she would first need a husband.

  Ha! A husband. That was a tall order for any woman living in a small Indiana town. With the gold rush and the war being so close together, single men were about as common as a wild dog without fleas.

  She sat by the fire, the dark night sky outside reminding her that she should go to bed if she wanted to be up early enough to properly prepare for the day tomorrow. She sighed and sipped the now-cold tea she had almost forgotten she was holding.

  Looking around at her cozy home, she accepted that she was in a better situation than most single women, for which she was extremely grateful. Many women would be looking for husbands but few would find one. For those who didn’t, a hard life of spinsterhood and probable poverty loomed ahead of them.

  With her teaching, Clara held a decent enough job despite the small income. In addition to her offering home care services, such as washing and baking for the townsfolk, she made enough for a woman living on her own to get by. Sure, her furniture was simple and her house small, but she didn’t need more than that.

  Teaching, too, was not the issue. She was passionate about her job. But it was no longer enough. She wanted something else. A family, a proper home to look after. Her own mother had been so capable and had cared for her and her brother while they grew up better than most. She wanted to provide that same care for and inspire that same respect in a family of her own.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  She chuckled softly to herself.

  Clara had to scrimp and save every day jut to get by. She loved the children she taught, and they loved her. But she exhausted herself, day in and day out, to just survive. She was, thus, left with little to no time for herself.

  In the backwater where she lived, people move away, they did not move back. The only eligible single man in their tiny town was Jonas Finch, and with his drinking and gambling habits, he was, to say the least, not the type of man she was looking for. Old Jebediah was single too, but at 78 she felt the 45-year gap in their ages was a little too large.

  And that was it. Those were her options if she chose to stay here, in the town she had been both born and raised in. Apart from the children, there wasn’t anything else tying her here. Her father and brother had both perished early in the war and her mother died shortly after. For the three years since, she had been on her own.

  She had had enough.

  About a month earlier, one of the girls in her class, little Elise, told her that her eldest sister had moved out to Seattle after responding to an ad posted by a man seeking a wife. She had heard of marriages arranged via correspondence a few times in the past. It was becoming increasingly common for men and women to place ads in the paper, seeking a spouse.

  For the last month, she had pushed the idea to the back of her mind. Surely she was not so desperate as to seek a husband through the paper? She wanted to believe that the right man was out there, that true love was waiting. But even true love couldn’t wait forever, and she wasn’t getting any younger.

  The paper sat on the table by her side, practically screaming for her attention. Eyes squinted, she scrutinized it with extreme skepticism. She hated the prospect of finding a husband this way, but what else could she do?

  Am I seriously, for the first time actually going to check the ads?

  No! She wasn’t that desperate.

  Just like you’re not sentimental?

  “Ugh,” she groaned, and hated her inner-self for being so right. She was that desperate, that was the sad truth of things. And so, with a drawn-out, self-pitying sigh, she picked up the paper and started browsing.

  I wonder what kind of man looks for a wife this way.

  To her surprise, the more time she spent reading the ads, the more she recognized that these men were in the same situation as her; seeking companionship or a family. Like her, many lived in places where eligible partners were few and far between.

  One ad in particular caught her eye. It read:

  Marcus Brown, 36, prospector. Seeking a wife to care for small, comfortable home. All necessities of life will be provided without fail. Simple, hardworking man ready for a family.

  There was nothing special about the advertisement. That was what captured Clara’s interest. So many of the ads were lengthy with a long list of requirements and demands to be met. Is that how men hoped to attract women?

  Such simplicity frustrated Clara and she had long since given up hope of finding a man who was her soulmate. She could content herself with a kind, caring husband who provided for her so she could focus her attention on their family and, hopefully, a few leisure pursuits of her own as well.

  Putting the paper aside, she stood up and went searching for a pen and paper. Returning to the table, she began composing a letter to Marcus Brown.

  TWO

  Finding A Husband

  Clara stood at the front of her class, nervously eyeing the clock on the wall at the back of the classroom. School was almost finished for the week. The envelope in her pocket felt far heavier than a thin sheaf of paper should feel. Was she really going to do this?

  Yes, enough procrastinating Clara, this is what you want.

  And yet, as her eyes fell on the faces of each of her young charges, their innocent smiles and gregarious laughter filling her heart with warmth, she felt the familiar overwhelming fear of the unknown creeping in once more.

  Writing to Marcus, a prospector she had never met, might fill her with fear, the same fear as when she lost her family, when she first had to live on her own and when she first began teaching. Like she had all of those fears, so too she would face this one; head on and determined to overcome it.

  This was her chance at a better future, one where she could love life without working herself to the point of utter exhaustion each and every day. An opportunity to shoulder life’s challenges with someone else. Did she not, after all she had been through, deserve that?

  The long arm of the clock announced a new hour, the last of the school week, and the children began packing up their things. Pencils and wooden rulers were pushed off of desks and into bags by the more anxious to get home and play. The more studious carefully placed their belongings in neatly organized cases.

  How I love them all, she thought, an unconscious smile turning up the corners of her lips.

  She was so filled with emotion that she nearly forgot her job as their teacher. As the first of the children reached the teaching-room door, she cried out;

  “Don’t forget to do your reading and finish your homework. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

  A few groaned at the reminder that they couldn’t dedicate the entire weekend to other pursuits, but they all smiled broadly and bid her farewell.

  A small body collided with hers, tiny arms wrapping around her waist.

  “See you on Monday, Miss Boyd.” Elise detached herself with what could almost have been regret before running out of the classroom with the rest of the children.

  Tears of happiness welled in Clara’s eyes, and she should could feel the familiar doubt creeping in. Not wanting to give it any room to sway her, she pulled on her coat, locked up the classroom for the weekend and walked to the post office.

  “Hey Jeb.” She waved to the old man as she walked past his home. As usual, he was sitting on the front porch, rocking slowly back and forth in his chair.

  “Afternoon Clara,” he smiled at her. “Where are you off to this sunny day?”

  “The post office,” she replied and held up the envelope for him to see. “I’m responding to an ad in the paper.”

  “Oh yes? What about?”

  Clara didn’t know why she told Jeb. Maybe there was a part of her that just needed someon
e to talk to.

  It all came pouring out of her. Old Jebediah quietly. He didn’t interrupt her. He only nodded from time to time.

  “I still don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Am I making a mistake?”

  “Clara, does that letter say anything that suggests you have made up your mind to marry this gentleman, Marcus?”

  “No, I’ve just written a little about myself and asked him a few questions.”

  “Exactly!” he smiled and there was something about his grin, lacking as many teeth as it did, that comforted her. “Nothing is written in stone yet. You might write a few more letters to this Marcus and decide you don’t like him. And you know what?”

  She shook her head, unsure.

  “That’s entirely okay. Don’t rush into marriage, dear. Take your time, get to know him. If, and only if, he strikes you as someone who would look after you, someone you could grow to love, then you can make a decision. One day at a time, Clara. Take it all one day at a time.”

  Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she threw her arms around the old man. He seemed a little shocked at her abandonment of propriety, but embraced her all the same. Everything he said was right. This was just a letter, it wasn’t a contract. Marriage and decisions, those could come later.

  “Thank you Jeb, I really needed that.” She wiped her cheeks dry and withdrew from his embrace.

  “Anytime, Clara. Do let me know how it goes.”

  “Of course, Jeb. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As she resumed her journey toward town, Clara felt lighter. All of her fears had evaporated, carried away on shed tears. And, since she was no longer drowning in anxiety, she became aware of something else, something almost reminiscent of excitement.