Mail Order Brides Collection Boxed Set: Felicity, Frank, Verity and Jessica, Books 3-6 (Montana Mail Order Brides Series)

by Rose Jenster

  “It’s rare lovely, that song you played. The fact you chose it when it’s one my mother used to sing to me when I was a boy—it only reminds me of when there was music in this house. I thank you for playing it. Anyhow, I said I would tell you how I lost Alice. I asked her to marry me when we were very young,” He paused and met her eyes, “I cared for her very much. She was lively and pretty and she paid attention to me. I’ve been quiet my whole life and no one took much notice of me, but Alice did.”

  Verity nodded in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

  “I left school and apprenticed to my father as a blacksmith. She knew we were to wait until my apprenticeship was complete. But just before that time, my father passed away. I found myself in debt from—from him. I worked my way clear of that, worked the forge fourteen or sixteen hours a day, took jobs from as far off as Helena as cheap as I could do them just to make the payments and so my sister could stay in school and in our home.

  “I cleared the debt in one year. In another year I bought the vise I needed. Then, my sister Laura caught the eye of a young man and they were engaged. I only gave my consent if they’d wait a year. I had a foolish notion, Miss Kemp.” He raked a hand over his dark hair in frustration and Verity put her hand in his. Adam squeezed her small fingers, nodded and went on.

  “Our mother had lovely things. She had the prettiest dishes, real china ones. When she died, my father broke every last dish one day. I remember sweeping it up, getting it into the bin before Laura could get home from school to see it. I was set on her having a set of dishes like that when she married. I wanted them to be just like Mother’s, white with a little scroll of vine around the edge.”

  “I drew what they looked like, the pattern, and took it to the dry goods store and the shopkeeper found it in his catalogue. It took us three hours together to sort through all those tiny drawings of dishes to find just the right one. I saved money and bought a whole set, shipped over in wooden crates packed with sawdust clear from England to surprise her.”

  Verity bit her lip to stop it quivering, blinked back tears at his generosity. He has such a loving heart to do such a thing for a sister, even with his own bride-to-be waiting in the wings for a wedding. To be so unselfish—why, she couldn’t even imagine it!

  “I bet she loves them,” Verity said loyally.

  He nodded and felt relief at being able to tell someone about this sorrow. “That she did. She said it meant all the world to her and she knew Mother would have liked her going to housekeeping with those dishes.”

  “But I told Alice it would be another year before I saved enough for us to be married. This house needs carpets and wallpaper and she’d want her own dishes and I was fool enough to want to have enough saved for her to pick out anything she’d like. In the meantime, her parents were moving away and she was angry with me for not taking her to wed then so she could stay in Billings as a wife instead of having to move with them. But move she did and I didn’t lift a finger to stop her. She got tired of waiting on me and my plans and found a doctor she liked better.”

  Verity leaned her head to one side, regarding him through a glaze of tears and she kissed his cheek impulsively.

  “What a fine man you are, Adam Rexing,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “And how lucky I am she was such a fool,” she smiled a watery smile at him as she drew back, bashful that she’d been so bold as to kiss him.

  Verity felt breathless, her chest felt full, a rush of affection that she barely held back. She held both his hands now, scarcely able to stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck as she’d like to do. He had on a homespun shirt today, not the Sunday best white shirt with the tight collar that pinched. She smoothed the soft, worn fabric with her hand, aware that she ought not to be touching him at all. Feeling like he was hers already, she touched his shirt anyway.

  “I’ll have a better kiss than that if I may, Miss Kemp,” he said diffidently.

  “Only if you’ll call me by my name, Adam. You have my heart. So I’d rather you call me—“

  “Verity,” he said softly.

  She blushed and shook her head.

  “Or had you rather I should call you my wife?” He whispered and she nodded, tears bright in her eyes.

  “I don’t need dishes or carpets, Adam. I only need you,” she managed.

  Adam’s arm went around her waist and held her near. He kissed her softly and then she did put her arms around his neck as she’d been longing to do. He pulled away too soon, standing up, once again the gentleman. Adam offered his arm and she took it.

  “What happened to your hands?” Adam asked in a hesitant tone as they walked, his hand covering hers.

  “I left my gloves on the piano. Drat!” she said. “Oh, I beg your pardon. A lady shouldn’t use that word,” Verity said, hoping he wouldn’t think less of her for her outburst.

  “No matter. I don’t mean your gloves. I mean your hands,” he touched lightly with one finger the place where the skin looked as if it had been burned raw at some time in the past.

  “I used to take in laundry when I was small to pay my school fees. I scrubbed with lye soap and it’s bad on the hands. I’ve tried every salve at every mercantile,” she said. “I know they’re not a lady’s hands.”

  Adam kissed her fingertips. “They will be my wife’s hands and they are beautiful.”

  Verity stopped walking and flung her arms around him. Adam set his hands at her waist carefully and put her away from him. They walked back to the boarding house and she restrained herself from affectionate hugs and acted properly.

  They decided she would finish out the remaining four weeks of the term before they married. She would miss her students, she cared about them so much. She admitted to Adam, she felt more for protective towards them than her upper crust pupils at Vaughn. It felt appropriate that the first day back from the planting break would also be the first day of her last month teaching.

  Chapter 8

  Verity wrote a letter of resignation informing the board of education of her intentions. After she read Scripture and a poem in class the next morning, she made the announcement to her pupils.

  “Students, I will be with you in school for the rest of term. Next term you will have a new teacher because I am to be married,” she said. “First class, please take out your slates and come forward to recite,”

  One of her older students raised his hand, Marcus. She had been surprised to see him in class that morning because most of the older boys stayed out on the farms during growing season, according to what she had been told. Yet here he was, the lone fifteen year old, tall and broad and sitting head and shoulders above the children in the fifth class.

  “Yes, Marcus?” She was puzzled.

  He stood up, his expression surly. “So what my Ma said is true about you carrying on with the blacksmith” he said in a hard tone.

  “Pardon me, Marcus, but I don’t see how your remark is an appropriate way to speak to your teacher. You may apologize and resume your seat. First class, come forward,” she said firmly. The little ones kept to their seats, eyes round as saucers, alarmed as she was at his rudeness.

  “Miz Kemp, you come all this way from that fancy school out East just to get you a man!” Marcus spoke in anger, even more boldly.

  “Marcus!” she said sharply. “You will be seated or you will step forward for the ruler. Impertinence will not be tolerated.” Verity was shocked at his behavior, her cheeks flaming.

  “I reckon I’m a man and a fast little piece like you got no business telling me what to do,” he said with a saucy laugh.

  Verity blinked fast. She was torn between bursting into tears that he would speak to her so cruelly and itching to slap his insolent face. She would not strike him, she thought, pulling herself up to her full height and striding down the aisle of the schoolhouse, ruler in hand. The gasp and murmur of the other students hushed as she reached him. He had his thumbs in his suspenders, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
Verity leveled the ruler at him like a pointer.

  “Out,” she said, her voice low with fury.

  Marcus laughed at her. She felt cold panic seize her heart for an instant. What if he laid hands on her? And in front of these children who would be powerless to help her. She suppressed a shudder at the thought and said a swift and silent prayer that he would just leave. He chuckled again, shrugged. Then he pushed past her and sauntered out the door, slamming it behind him.

  As soon as he was gone, she dropped into the seat he’d left, trembling. She laid the ruler down, gripped the wooden edge of the desk and composed herself. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of the children. She would lose all authority and be a failure. She must stand up, look assured and pretend she hadn’t been afraid of that boy. Shakily, she stood, smacking the ruler too smartly on her own palm.

  “First class will rise and come forward,” she said, her voice more sure than she was inside.

  That afternoon, she went to the forge to see Adam. Just the sight of him, substantial and strong, wielding iron tongs in his leather apron reassured her. Here was a man who would never let anything happen to her. If he had been there, Marcus wouldn’t have spoken to her that way. This was not because she thought Adam violent, but because his very presence had power and dignity.

  He finished his task, hammering the iron into shape with infinite care as she watched him. It was a privilege to watch him, to see him working the metal deftly. She loved to see his great skill and the serious look of concentration on his handsome face. When it was complete, he set it aside and went to her.

  “How did your students take the news?”

  “Well enough, but for Marcus Albee,” she said, eyes welling with tears.

  “What did he say?”

  “That I was a fast piece who had no business telling him what to do and that I was carrying on with the blacksmith and—he defied me. He would not apologize or take his seat. He was insolent and rude.“ Verity blinked back tears though her chin trembled with the effort.

  Adam gave a sharp nod, banked the fire in the forge and removed his apron.

  “You’re not going to do anything to him are you?” She was safe in Adam's presence, but knew he had a very12` protective side.

  “We’re going to my house—what will be our house soon enough, to talk this over. No, I don’t intend to thrash the boy, though he deserves it soundly. His uncle and aunt are raising him and I think they haven’t taken a firm hand with him.”

  Adam offered her his arm, covering her hand with his larger one as if to keep her close by his side. It was all she could do not to lean her head on his shoulder, to look up at him with wide, appealing eyes and ask him to put his arm around her and keep her safe. The memory of Marcus Albee ridiculing her and calling her a fast little piece who set her cap for the blacksmith kept her silent and polite. They reached the house and he opened the door.

  “It’s always unlocked,” he told her quietly. “If you ever need to come here, if you need a quiet place, you’re always welcome. It’s to be yours, as I am.”

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Adam took Verity in his arms and held her. She could hear his heartbeat. It was astonishing, how odd it was to hear someone’s heart thumping out a rhythm. Verity shut her eyes and listened to it and felt comforted by the steady beat and by his strong arms around her. He rested one hand on the back of her head, his thumb absently stroking her hair as he stood perfectly still, gentlemanly. Verity had thought she was ready to cry but as soon as Adam held her, she felt more calm, less weepy and embarrassed and afraid.

  “Do you want to stop working at the school? We could go to Mr. Wood directly if you feel, if you feel this boy threatened you.”

  Adam had shut down the forge in the middle of the afternoon. He said ‘we’ could go to Mr. Wood of the board of education. He told her she didn’t have to finish out the term, that she only had to be safe and comfortable. It made her feel protected and he gave her courage somehow to keep going.

  “No, I’d like to finish the term,” She said bravely, “He never threatened me. He was impudent and needed his ears boxed but he didn’t offer to hurt anyone.”

  Adam put her away from him and took her by the shoulders.

  “Are you sure about that? I reckon the boy don’t listen at home so he’s not much help in his uncle's fields. I can speak to his uncle. They probably sent him on to school to have him out of the way. It would do him a world of good if that uncle taught him to be a man and do an honest day’s work instead of interfering with children trying to get an education,” Adam practically growled.

  Verity couldn’t help but smile. She was certain she’d have no more trouble from Marcus after Adam spoke to his uncle. She also felt reassured that they’d handled this problem together, that he’d respected her wish to continue teaching for the remainder of the term and he’d be protective her any way he could. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  “Will you do something for me?” Adam said in a soft tone.

  “Of course.”

  “Come sit at the dining room table. Just for a moment. It’s a foolish thing but I wish you would,” he sounded almost bashful.

  Verity followed him into a beautifully wallpapered room with a long, gleaming table and chair set and a pewter candelabrum standing in the middle. She took a chair along the side but he shook his head and pulled out the chair at the foot of the table where a wife would sit. Verity sat there and folded her hands in her lap as he took the seat opposite her.

  Adam looked at her intently and she would have sworn his eyes were bright, as if such a big, strong man would weep to see her across the dinner table from him. He pushed back his chair and went to her side. Bending down almost double to reach her, he took both her hands in his and kissed her upturned face, her forehead, her cheek and then her lips respectfully. Blushing, she turned away, eyes cast down.

  “I had a picture in my mind of what my life would be for a lot of years, a picture of a woman across this table from me, our children on either side. I figured you’d fit that but I wanted to see for myself.”

  “Did I fit in, then?” Verity asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she raised her eyes to meet his.

  “Perfectly. I can’t wait to make you my bride, Verity Kemp. Now it’s best I take you out of here and walk you safe back to Mrs. Hostelman’s before I forget I’m a gentleman,” he said.

  She couldn’t suppress a giggle at that, secretly thrilled that he would like to keep her there and kiss her again. But she was pleased that he restrained himself and would see her properly home rather than risk her reputation. Verity walked back to the boarding house at his side. He held her hand. It was informal, less like the courtly suitor and more personal somehow. She thrilled at the warm, sure hand holding her own and felt confident and secure. Verity did not worry that night about school the following day. Adam was going to speak to the boy’s uncle and all would be well. She slept easily.

  * * *

  Adam Rexing stayed late at the forge, heating and sculpting the wrought iron to get the curve just right. He wanted it to be perfect, as perfect as Verity had looked across the table from him, as right as anything he could ever have imagined.

  What had gone wrong was his talk with Tobias Albee about his nephew. Adam had gone to him man to man, knowing he would himself want to know if little Josiah ever acted so disrespectfully so he could correct that behavior. In that good faith, he was startled by Albee’s reaction.

  The man had told him that his nephew was a fine young man and would inherit the farm one day and how he and his wife and been disgusted by Verity Kemp. She read the children fool poetry and filled their heads with outlandish notions instead of teaching them to figure how much seed they’d need to plant a field of barley and how many potatoes they’d need for a pot of stew.

  Tobias admitted he thought his nephew was sweet on the teacher but he himself didn’t think her worth the time. It didn’t surprise Tobias Albee one bit that Verity
Kemp had been called a fast little piece since that’s what she was with her high-falutin’ ideas and her fancy blouses with the lace on the sleeves where you could see the flesh of her arm! Adam had wanted to strike the man, but he had stood his ground, fists at his sides.

  “It isn’t fitting you should speak of any woman that way, much less to a boy who will learn from your conduct. No Christian man would think or speak so. I reckon you should keep that boy from school until Miss Kemp is my wife and you’ve a teacher you approve.”

  “As for myself, I’ll thank you not to spend so much time thinking about my wife and her blouse. You should pray forgiveness for those impure thoughts, and against a lass who never did anyone harm nor set out to entice you or your fool nephew. For shame, Tobias! I had thought you a sensible man,” Adam told him and left the farm without taking his leave.”

  He was that furious, and nothing would suit him but to pound on heated iron with his hammer until he could bend it to his will. Adam wasn’t a man to do harm, not like his father. He’d never understood the need of some men to punish with fists, not until Tobias Albee said such provoking things about Verity. It would have pleased Adam to punch the man’s face. But, he knew he must pray about that impulse because nowhere in the Bible did the Lord approve striking a man in anger. Adam had been sorely tempted, but was a man of faith.

  He wrote a note to Verity and left it at the boarding house that night, asking her to bring some of her books and things to the house and to begin putting them on shelves the way she’d like them, and to rearrange anything at all she didn’t like. Adam was eager to see her put her own stamp on that house that had held such unhappiness for so long.

  It would make him happy to see her hat on the hook and to see her books on the table. It would be a lovely thing to have traces of her there even before she could move in and live there as his wife. Adam liked thinking of her there, during the day while he was working. The idea of Verity opening the front door, going into that house and changing which cupboard held the plates or playing the piano pleased him greatly.