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

by Hope Sinclair

  She had forgotten the feeling of nervous anticipation that came with new experiences. It wasn’t the kind of all-consuming, terrifying nervousness that she had felt before, it was a lighter kind. The nerves did not wrap themselves around her every conscious thought or worm their way into every decision she made, causing her to doubt herself. Instead, there was a slight flutter in her stomach and a spark in her eyes.

  The last time she had felt this way was at the end of her first day of teaching. She had met the children, she had spent the day with them and after it all, she saw that her fears were the creation of her own self-doubt and insecurity. As she had sat alone in the classroom, she thought over everything that had happened that day.

  She had been practically shaking in her boots as a dozen children filed in. Her hand shook as she scrawled her name on the blackboard in white chalk, the letters wavering and uneven. She half-expected the children to just up and leave. Surely they could sense her fear, her incompetence, and would just outright refuse her lessons.

  Sense your fear? Great, Clara, now you’re comparing children to dogs. Good start...

  But they hadn’t reacted. At least not in the teeth-bared, vicious way she had envisioned. She spoke her name and, almost in unison, they had all said “Good morning, Miss Boyd,” and the day continued.

  Lesson by lesson, hour by hour, as she tackled things she was only familiar with in theory, she became aware of just how exaggerated so many of her fears had been. It was the natural way of things; to be afraid of something new, unsure of the unknown. How often, though, those fears prove to be unfounded, a conjuring of the worried mind telling us that things are going to end badly no matter what, only to find the reality isn’t nearly so daunting.

  And so it was that, at the end of that first day as she sat going over the events of her first six hours as a teacher, her fears gave way to excitement, to the eager knowledge that this was easier than she had thought. That children weren’t judgmental like grown-up humans (or as vicious as a pack of rabid dogs), but instead they were wide-eyed and eager to learn.

  As her fear had given way that day, so too she felt a sense of elation as she walked to the post office. Her fears of contractual marriage and permanent commitment were not founded on this first letter. They weren’t founded on anything. All of those decisions were for a later time. Right now, she had only to learn about the man on the other side of this ad. And if she didn’t like what she heard, she could try again.

  With a little yelp of excitement, she dropped off the envelope and headed for home, wondering when, or even if, she would hear from Marcus Brown.

  THREE

  The Proposal

  The next month passed without Clara receiving any mail. Had her letter even been delivered? Or had Marcus read it, looked at the small picture of herself she had included and decided he didn’t want her?

  He wouldn’t be the first man to dislike her distinctly bright ginger hair or the patch of freckles that dotted her face around her nose and under her eyes. Her figure was on the small side and her nose turned up a little too much at the tip. At 23, her body was still not as mature as many of the other women her age.

  Once, someone had commented that she looked fragile, as if she could be broken with the slightest force. It infuriated her. So she was not classically beautiful and didn’t have broad, child-bearing hips. That did not mean she was any less capable as a woman. Had he judge her based solely on her appearance? At the very thought, Clara felt ill.

  He probably didn’t even read my letter once he’d seen my photo.

  She continued life as normal, having long since given up any hope that a letter would arrive. And, when one finally did arrive, her heart skipped a beat as she raced home and ripped it open. The notion that she had, in fact, not been rejected filled her with excitement.

  Dear Miss Boyd,

  I thank you for your timely response to my ad. Your appearance is satisfactory to me and your homely abilities seem adequate for that which I’ll require. I would like to exchange some more information before making any commitments. My home is one hour by horse from Durango, Colorado. It is relatively isolated, but I have and am able to provide any necessities you would require. If you don’t wish to live so far from town, however, I am not the man for you. I’ll wait to hear from you.

  Marcus Brown

  Clara put the letter down, feeling somewhat confused. She looked over it again. He had said her appearance was “satisfactory”. Was that a compliment? From the curt, yet relatively polite, tone of the letter he struck her as a very practical man.

  Not exactly a prince charming...

  No. She couldn’t think like that. She didn’t live in a fairytale. He didn’t sound like a harsh or unkind man, just simple and unromantic. She pulled out pen and paper and began composing a response.

  When she was happy with what she had written, she slipped the letter into an envelope and walked it to the post office.

  A few more weeks passed before she received a response. This time, however, the wait was not so dreadful. She knew it took time for the letters to travel across country and, if Marcus was anything like the men she knew, he would reply when he felt he had a moment to spare.

  The next letter was very similar to the first. He expressed his pleasure that Durango, Colorado didn’t frighten her. She had lied about that. She wasn’t entirely keen on living so far from a town. But she knew she would have to compromise a little if she was going to find a husband.

  In the same manner as before, his expressions were unemotional and directly to the point. It bothered her a little; she wanted a man who would love her and give her the emotional attention she needed. She hated how dependent that seemed.

  But as the months slid by and more letters were exchanged, she felt herself warming, if only ever-so-slightly, to this rough prospector from Colorado. His nature was honest, genuine, and that was not something to be quickly overlooked in society. He may have been rough around the edges, but Clara reasoned that she could eventually come to love the man if she moved out West with him.

  It might take some time, but with effort and attention, we could form a lasting relationship

  It may not have been the most romantic approach to things, but Clara was coming to see her emotions might have to take the backseat if she decided to enter into a relationship with Marcus.

  So, despite a lack of strong connection, after six months of regular correspondence between them, she received the letter she had been waiting for.

  Dear Clara,

  I have come to enjoy your letters in the past months. Their arrival gives me reasons for joy that can be hard come-by otherwise in the West. For that I am grateful. Your kind words and friendly disposition makes me wish to meet in person. I feel that you are the woman I could spend my life with. If you are willing, I would gladly pay for your journey to Durango so that we may get married. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

  Love,

  Marcus

  It was not the most romantic proposal Clara had received, but she could see he was trying. His letters had adopted a more relaxed tone recently and he had fallen into calling her by her first name and signing his letters with “Love, Marcus”.

  And maybe he had grown to love her. But did she love him? She wanted to say yes, but she knew in her heart that she couldn’t. Not yet, at least. She had picked and fussed for years, choosing to remain single. Now was the time for action. She had reached out to Marcus and he seemed like a decent man. She was almost 24 now and most men wouldn’t consider her so readily for marriage at such an age.

  In time, she tried to reassure herself, she would grow to love him. So, pen in hand, she replied to his letter.

  Dearest Marcus,

  I too have enjoyed your letters and, after careful consideration of your proposal, I accept.

  Sincerely,

  Clara

  FOUR

  Journeying Out West

  The American countryside blurred past Clara’s wi
ndow as the train sped along the tracks. She sat with her back straight and a book in hand. The first few days on the train had been extremely exciting. Her eyes had been glued to the windows, unable to look away from the constant changing of the landscape. After a time, however, things began to look much the same and she decided to get started on the book she had brought along.

  Her mind flickered back to the weeks after she posted her acceptance to Marcus. He had, as usual, taken a few weeks to respond. With his letter came a rare expression of delight that she had decided to join him in Colorado, as well as a train ticket and fare for a horse-drawn carriage.

  The train would take her most of the way, with a short trip via carriage for the last stretch to the town of Durango. Marcus said he would meet her in town with a pair of horses and take her to his home.

  She had spent the next week packing her meagre belongings and preparing for the long journey. She did not, strangely enough, feel any sadness leaving behind her home. The only remorse she felt grew from her love of the children in her class. She would miss them dearly. Especially their smiles, cheerful laughs and the loving hugs.

  She cried at the end of her last class. The children had all gathered around her, giving her little hugs and telling her how much they were going to miss her. It only made her cry the more, a smile breaking out beneath the tears.

  She remembered the sense of finality as she locked the door to her home for the last time, her fingers feeling around the nicks and grooves in the old doorknob. Part of her would miss this place terribly.

  The house belonged to Jebediah, he had been kind enough to rent it to her for the last couple of years, for a pittance of what he could have made from anyone else. She walked up to his porch and placed the little key into his hand before abandoning propriety once more to give him a hug farewell.

  “No matter what happens, my door is always open to you,” he said, smiling his adorable broken smile and she said goodbye before she started crying again.

  A tear formed in her eye as she stared out at the passing countryside. She was really doing this! Something that only a year ago she would never have dreamed of doing. Something adventurous.

  I’m on a train in the center of the country! The furthest I’ve ever been from home.

  She turned uncomfortably in her seat. It wasn’t the first time.

  Ugh, I would love a proper bed right about now.

  Her mind was overflowing with memories of the last 23 years of her life. She finally accepted that she wasn’t going to get much reading done today and put her book down. She closed her eyes and dreamed of the future.

  She reached the state of Colorado after roughly two weeks, although she couldn’t say exactly; time lost its meaning after days and days of the same monotony. She walked through the small dusty train station with a bag in each hand.

  Her eyes greedily absorbed the new environment, taking in the distant, tree-covered mountains and the rolling hills surrounding them. Colorado felt so much more alive than flat Indiana.

  There was a stagecoach waiting outside the train station and, even as she started walking towards it, the driver hopped down and rushed over to her.

  He was a middle-aged man, maybe thirty-five, with a light beard covering his face and a warm smile. His eyes were alive and he struck her as the kind of person who declared himself your friend after you had only known each other for a few minutes.

  “Howdy ma’am. Can I give you a hand with your bags?” he asked politely and, no doubt seeing the look of suspicion on her face, added, “My name’s John, Marcus told me you were due today. I assume you’re Clara Boyd?”

  At the mention of Marcus, Clara’s face relaxed and, putting her bags down by her feet, shook John’s outstretched hand.

  “A pleasure to meet you, John,” she said and his grin grew even wider.

  “The pleasure is all mine. Now, let’s get these bags loaded up and we can be on our way!”

  With a small grunt, he lifted her bags and carried them to the coach, giving her a look of surprise when he realized how heavy the bags were.

  I’m stronger than you think, she thought proudly to herself, sticking up her nose a little.

  With her bags loaded and strapped down on the back of the carriage, John held open the door and offered Clara a hand stepping up.

  “I can manage,” she said curtly, then lifted her dress slightly and climbed into the carriage.

  “So you can,” he chuckled as he closed to door. “If you need anything, just holler. I’ll hear you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We should be in Durango in a couple hours.”

  His smile vanished and he suddenly seemed very uncomfortable, his fingers tapping repeatedly on the carriage door. Clara took the bait, albeit a little reluctantly, and asked him what was wrong.

  “I hate this part of the business, but I’ll need your payment in advance. If I don’t, my boss will get mad and, if he gets mad, my feelings get hurt. He didn’t really like it the last time I cried in front of him.”

  There was a twinkle in his eye as his demeanor returned to normal once again and Clara burst out laughing. For all his awkwardness, John struck her as a good person.

  “It’s no problem, John, really.” She said, still chuckling as she reached into her purse and withdrew the money Marcus had sent her for the carriage.

  “Much oblidged,” he took the money, did a quick count and, stuffing it into his pocket, flashed her another smile before hopping into his seat up front.

  “Hold on, Miss Boyd,” she heard him holler, “It’s a little bumpy at the start. Yah!”

  The carriage started with a jolt and they were soon headed down the main street. In half an hour they had left civilization well behind and were out on the open road. The sun was setting outside and Clara closed her eyes, thinking of the proper bed that waited at the end of her journey.

  FIVE

  Ambushed

  Clara jolted awake as the carriage hit a particularly large rut in the road. She closed her eyes to go back to sleep but was interrupted. Outside, she could hear the all-too-familiar sound of horses galloping. And they were drawing closer.

  There was a loud crack and the sound of something hitting the carriage with tremendous force. Two more cracks and two more thuds followed.

  “Keep your head down, Miss Boyd!” John shouted from outside. “And hold on tight, I’m going to try to lose them.”

  She heard the snap of a whip, the carriage jolting forward. They were picking up speed but gunshots, for she had deduced that was what the loud cracks were, continued behind them. Not knowing what else to do, she followed John’s instruction and crawled up on the floor of the carriage, her knuckles turning white as she desperately held onto the support railing.

  “Dammit!” she heard the curse come from John’s direction, the stagecoach wobbling on its axles as he swore.

  “Hold on!”

  Those were the last words he yelled as the carriage began to sway from side to side, rocking like a boat on stormy seas. Finally, after resisting for as long as it could, the whole thing fell to the side. Clara held her breath in the moment as she was suspended in the air, barely hanging on. And then everything crashed down around her.

  She hit the ground with a thud, momentarily stunned. She heard banging on the carriage door and saw John standing above her.

  “Come on, Miss Boyd, we’ve got to get out of here. Those bandits ain’t far behind.” He waved at her to hurry.

  “I…I’m coming,” she mumbled in a daze.

  Standing up, she lifted her hands over her head and John pulled her out through the side-door, which, from the way the coach had fallen on its side, was now the ceiling.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, holding her shaking body tightly in his hands.

  “Uh. Yes. I think so.” Clara answered, her thoughts still struggling to organize themselves.

  “Good, then we sho–”

  A loud crack cut John off midsentence. He tumbled of
f the carriage clutching his leg.

  “Get out of here, Miss Clara!” he cried. “Run!”

  The sounds of men shouting and horses galloping was almost upon her now.

  Clara wanted to stay to help John but he was desperately shouting for her to run. She jumped off the coach and cast her eyes about her. She was in the middle of nowhere. The moon was only just showing itself in the night sky, casting a soft white glow by which she could barely see. The road stretched ahead of her, open wasteland all around. She didn’t have many options.

  Hoisting her skirts above her knees, she started running away from the road. She could hear the horses behind her; hear that they had abandoned the road to chase her. She kept running, trying to push her legs as hard as she could.

  “Help!” she cried out between labored breaths. It was instinct that caused her to cry for help, that was all. No one would hear her out here.

  She could feel the earth rumble as the horses drew ever closer. She couldn’t possibly hope to outrun them. But she refused to give up. Her heart pounding in her ears and her breath coming ragged and hoarse, she kept running.

  She cried for help again, but all that came out of her throat was a hoarse rasp.

  I won’t die this way!

  She refused to die to bandits in the middle of nowhere, where no one would remember her name. If she could only make it through the night, surely Marcus would come searching for her.

  Her thoughts blinded her to the path ahead, her eyes glazing over the loose rocks. She tripped and fell, loose rocks digging down into her knees. She rolled over to her side, blood trickling down her knee.

  She bit her lip to keep from sobbing. The pain was dreadful. She could see the horses and their riders now. With a grunt of pain, she climbed to her feet, her injured leg almost giving out underneath her, and stood tall. She wouldn’t give these wretched men the satisfaction of seeing her wounded in the dust.