“He loves me, Laurel,” she sniffled, her voice muffled as she held her head in her hands.
“How can you be so naïve to think that, when you let him sneak around your father and treat you like you’re common?”
Priscilla flinched and glowered at her older sister.
“I never did anything that would shame the family,” she declared, scrubbing the tears from her face with her skirt.
“Then you had better make sure the rest of the town can see that, when you put on your pretty white dress and make your vows to that young man.” Priscilla nodded mutely and sniffed. “I’m gonna go get Pa. You better clean yourself up and get ready to help with supper.”
Priscilla nodded and stumbled to the stairs that lead to their loft.
“Pa?” Laurel stepped outside cautiously, looking for the familiar smoke trail that would lead her to her father.
“She can’t marry that boy, Laurel.” He wasn’t smoking, just sitting out on the front porch on his chair watching the sun begin to sink toward the horizon.
“She has to, Pa. It’s the only way.”
“The only way to ensure you’re an old maid, stuck out here with me for the rest of your life. You know that’s what’ll happen if she marries first.”
Laurel rocked back on her heels, shocked that her father had put that much thought into it.
“Pa, it’ll be all right,” she told him.
“No. It won’t be all right. I’ve been looking, but there’s no one. I could marry your sister off to just about anyone, but I couldn’t find a man good enough to make you happy.”
Laurel let out a burst of surprised laughter.
“You don’t really believe that, do you Pa? Prissy is,” Laurel broke off at an impatient gesture from her father.
“She’s impulsive and selfish and pretty, without being too beautiful, and from who I saw her with today, none too discerning. No, she’ll have love and heartbreak and love again, and it will all be her own doing. You, however, will need more than that.” He took the folded pamphlet out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I don’t like this, but perhaps what you need simply isn’t in Clinton.”
She glanced down at the copy of Matrimonial times in her hand.
“Pa, I…”
He smiled and touched her hand.
“The selfish man in me wants you to stay. The father who promised your mother I’d take care of you, wants you to do whatever you need to be happy.” He stood and stepped past her toward the door. “The choice is yours, Laurel. Priscilla will not marry until you do. She owes you that.”
4.
Laurel quietly tucked her belongings into her carpet bag and shuffled it to the edge of the loft. She hid it under the cream blanket she had made with her mother before she died. She took one last look at her sleeping sister and headed down the stairs to make breakfast. It had been almost two months since her father had given her the pamphlet from the Matrimonial Times and told her to make a choice.
At first, Priscilla had fought her father, demanding that she be able to marry without Laurel being wed. Then she’d begged Laurel to marry someone, anyone, and quickly. It had come to Laurel’s attention through Mrs. Baxter, head gossip in town, that Duke’s desire was waning from waiting for her since she’d stopped meeting him by the silo for stolen moments.
Finally, when Laurel confronted her, Priscilla had raged at her. The hurtful words would scar Laurel forever, but she would give her sister the thing she desired.
“Just leave so we can be happy, Laurel!” Priscilla had said. “No man wants you, so you force me to be alone and pathetic, just like you!”
Laurel hadn’t replied, not even to tell her sister that she’d already entered into a marriage agreement with a farmer in Utah. There was no need to tell her goodbye, they hadn’t spoken since. Laurel took extra care with her father’s morning meal. She’d already set the bread to rise long before he’d woken up to milk the dairy cows and put the steers out to pasture. She crept into the cold storage and got a rasher of salted pork and apple cider, the last she’d ever make in her mother’s kitchen.
There were no tears left in her after sobbing her broken heart into her pillow from her sister’s cruel words. Still, as she set the bowl of daisies in the center of the table, she felt a lump rise to her throat and quickly finished her chores. Laurel couldn’t name the reason she didn’t want to face her father. She knew he wanted her to be happily married. But, she couldn’t stand to tell him goodbye. If she tried, she was afraid she’d lose her courage and not go at all.
She set the fresh baked bread on the table, still hot from the oven, and plated fried salted pork and grits for him before quickly collecting her meager luggage and setting it out by the gate for the carriage that her husband-to-be was sending for her.
She took one last look around the home she would never see again, and a few tears managed to find their way in tracks down her cheeks as she silently said goodbye. Footfalls on the back porch made her quicken her pace, and when her father walked in to his favorite breakfast and a bowl full of daisies arranged prettily in the center of the table, Laurel was already gone.
The ride to the train station was quick and uneventful, even though Laurel kept casting furtive glances around the station, worried that her father had found her goodbye note too soon. Soon though, the train arrived, and Laurel was on her way to a new life.
It was the first time she’d ever been anywhere farther than a buggy ride from her family’s farm. To pass the time and quell her growing apprehension, she read and reread the short letter she’d received from her husband-to-be, Derek Binder. He was a farmer in the new State of Utah, with an orchard and a farm in a place called Bountiful. It was short and to the point, with no romantic prose, or false promises. Her broken heart had clung to its simplicity. Now that she was on her way, part of her ached, knowing that the love her sister was bound to waste and take for granted, was never to be for her. She looked at the letter again, already creased and worn as if it had been a romantic declaration from a tender lover, instead of a sentence of a lifetime of servitude to a stranger.
“My lady Callahan,
It pleases me that you have responded to my advertisement in the Matrimonial news. I can assure you that if you come to Utah, you will want for nothing in the way of material things. I am pleased that you are plain-spoken, for I am as well, not inclined to speak of romance or love with a stranger. My expectations for you as a wife are simple and should be easy accomplishments for a woman who has kept her own house, as you indicated. In coming to Bountiful, you are agreeing to a perform the duties of a wife that make in you the partner I require. This is not a love match. I do not wish for flowers or music in my home, but an organized hand and clever mind who will be my partner in the running of my farm, and the possibility of a child, if we find ourselves amicable in that regard.
Safe journey to you, all arrangements for your travel are completed and are detailed following.
Sincerely, Capt. Derek Binder
Her heart shrank in her chest every time she read the letter, but she took some comfort from his honesty. She had given her heart fully to the gentle farmer who had shown up one day to ask if she would speak with him, only to sit silently next to her for an hour and leave, having used up his bravery simply to get to her door.
Tom had been a man of great heart and tender hands, who had taught her what a lady could expect from a real man. It wounded her to know that Priscilla might never have the chance to understand what it meant to truly be loved and cherished. Then again, Prissy was spared the pain of losing real love, only to be forced to live with a pale shadow of it instead.
Her thoughts were not the only company she had on her journey, and Laurel was grateful for the strange yet kind old Mormon woman who sat next to her and chatted with her. It amazed her to meet someone whose husband had multiple wives, though she had heard about such a thing once when eavesdropping on her mother’s sewing circle.
But the lady, a
Mrs. Young, shared her meals with Laurel, and described the beauty of the harsh land she was about to make her home. Laurel couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live surrounded by people who married more than once while their spouse lived. With a sickening rush of bile to her mouth, she realized that could very well be why Capt. Binder didn’t need a woman to join with romantically. She paled and sat staring out the window for the remainder of the ride, quietly contemplating the thought that she’d not only sold herself into servitude, but possibly given herself to an unfamiliar religion, where she was not even the partner he claimed he desired, but something else, something so foreign she couldn’t even comprehend it.
She hadn’t been excited for her journey, but now she dreaded her arrival. What manner of creature awaited her at the other end, and what would she do if her father chose to respect her choice, and didn’t come for her?
5.
The day turned overcast, and as night fell, there were no stars in the sky. The train pulled into the station under the cover of that dark curtain, and it made her arrival that much more foreboding. Laurel clutched her carpet bag and hefted it down to the platform, straining under the weight of it as she made her way to the corner of the building to wait for the captain, or whoever he might send in his place, she thought to herself with a shudder.
She was grateful for the chance to stand and walk comfortably after the long hours she’d been forced to sit, but as the night grew colder and the crowd thinned, Laurel found a seat against a wall and huddled against the wind break it provided, wondering if she had been led astray and was stranded in a strange place all alone.
Just as tears stung the insides of her eyelids, an impossibly handsome young man rushed onto the platform, glancing around him at the few people who remained, awaiting the night carriage that would take them further south to the Salt Lake City.
Laurel stood, hoping this man was a farm hand to her husband-to-be. She raised a hand in greeting and the man spotted her and hurried to her side. He looked her over with utter shock on his face and took a step back from her before recovering and offering her his hand.
“Miss Callahan?” he asked, and with instant relief, her face brightened and she nodded, offering him a sweet, shy smile.
“Aye sir. I apologize for my rumpled appearance, the journey…” she began.
“Was long and arduous, I’m sure. Where are your things?” He took her carpetbag by the handles and glanced all around her.
“I only brought what I knew was rightfully mine, sir. My father and my sister were not aware that I was leaving, and I did not wish to take with me a memento of my mother that they would miss.”
“No matter. You are moving into a house that is well-established, and built by a good woman. You should want for nothing, at least until you are fully settled in.” Her face went so pale, she looked like a ghost under the light of the streetlamps, and her companion quickly loaded her bag into his wagon and offered her his hand. “Are you quite well, lady?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for the lifestyle of your master and mistress. I’m afraid the way of life here is very foreign to me.”
The man paused and coughed to hide a laugh as realization dawned on him.
“My apologies, Miss Callahan. I think you may be mistaken about the house you are committing yourself to.”
“Then, the captain isn’t a Mormon?”
“Um, no. not a Mormon. Also, not a polygamist.”
Relief flooded through her and the dark-haired man caught her by the elbow as her knees gave out.
“May I confess my fear to you? You are so kind, and I’m sure that reflects on your master, but…”
He helped her into the buggy and draped a blanket over her shoulders.
“Pleas speak freely, my lady.”
She giggled at the title, but tucked the blanket around her and nodded.
“I responded to the captain because he made no promises that seemed false, and my sister couldn’t marry her love until I was wed. But I have no desire to be married. I simply wanted to find a place where I was needed, and fill that void.”
“Then you made a good choice coming here.”
“Thank you, but I have one concern I was too afraid to ask.” She shrank in on herself, and her companion prompted her.
“Go on, ask me anything,” he assured her and she graced him with another sweet smile. It warmed him, and he shook off the sensation irritably, frowning at his physical weakness against the allure of the soft-eyed brunette beside him. “Well, go on with it,” he snapped, and she pulled away at his tone.
“Will he lay his hands on me if he upset, or drunk? I was raised in a kindly home, I didn’t know how to ask such a thing of the captain, for fear of offending him.”
The wagon creaked to a stop, and his dark brown eyes searched hers by the light of the lantern.
“No, my lady. No one will ever raise a hand to you, or be drunk in your presence. I assure you, you will have the home that was described to you. Hard work, a warm hearth, plenty of food, and the material things you desire.”
Laurel colored and dropped her eyes to her fingers, tangled in her lap.
“Captain. I didn’t realize…”
“Of course you didn’t, because I rushed to the station in the middle of a foaling and left my manners at home.” She chuckled and gasped as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and her heart gave a quick flip that surprised her into silence. “I do not ask you to love me. But neither do I want you to fear me.” He pushed a tendril of hair back from her ear and pretended her soft skin didn’t make his gut tighten.
“Thank you, sir. I will do my best to please you in every way,” she declared weakly, and turned away from him, confused by her traitorous body. Only Tom had stirred those feelings deep in her. How could she betray their love by wanting the captain to touch her face again?
Neither spoke for the remainder of the ride while they contemplated the unexpected attraction each had for the other. Derek glanced at the petite woman beside him. Barely even a woman, so young and lovely that he never could have suspected she would be the one to answer his advertisement. Her eyes had entranced him, so large and luminous in the flickering lamplight that for a moment he’d forgotten who he was, or why he had requested her to come in the first place.
Laurel didn’t dare look at the tall, strong man who’d lifted her into his buggy like she was weightless. She had formed an image in her mind of an old man, one who was adding to a clan of wives and children he already had. Instead, the captain was ruggedly handsome, with brown eyes that hid his thoughts and full lips that softened the angles of his face until he was almost pretty.
Her stomach fluttered with the thought of those lips on hers, and she pushed the fantasy away, horrified that she had so easily betrayed the memory of her sweet Tommy. When lights appeared in the distance, Laurel focused on them to distract her from thoughts of the broad-shouldered farmer, and she imagined instead what the farm might look like.
“Are you cold?” Derek asked, and Laurel shook her head without answering. “My lady, I fear I’ve hurt you in some way. Are you well?”
Laurel mentally shook herself and sighed.
“No Captain, I am not hurt. I was imagining your land by looking at the lights in the distance and trying to visualize what lay between them.”
He chuckled and she felt him relax beside her.
“Well then, I won’t distract you by telling you what I know is there, and you can tell me how close you were, when we arrive.” He paused and thought for a moment. “I believe it would be acceptable if you were to call me Derek, as you are not in the military, and frankly, neither am I anymore.” He flashed her a quick smile and looked away before she could return it and make his pulse race again.
When his Alice had contracted a fever and passed away, taking with her their unborn child, Derek had sworn never to remarry. But, the farm had begun to suffer from the lack of attenti
on to the home and garden. When his parents had contracted tuberculosis, and followed his wife not long after, leaving him to raise his younger brother, he knew it was time to bring a woman back out to the farm.
It was Finlay who had pointed out that he should take a wife, rather than continue to hire the women who worked for him until they left to take care of households of their own. He’d put the advertisement in the paper expecting it to go unanswered. Not being a man of many words, he’d made his needs plain, and not offered love or even companionship, only material comfort and the honest, hard work of farming.
Her hand had been callused and strong when he held it, but her cheek was soft, and her skin cool and smooth, begging to be caressed. He cursed to himself and urged the horses on faster. His plan to raise his brother and care for his home, had become as treacherous as the battlefield. Only now, it was his loyalty to Alice and his heart that he fought for, against an enemy clothed in innocent beauty and grace.
6.
They had not spoken much in the days since Laurel had become part of the household. Derek was rarely home before dark, and he was always gone again by first light. Laurel had little time to ask his desires regarding the house and grounds, let alone plan a wedding. She had gone from being a mail order bride, to a housekeeper, and in all those weeks, he still hadn’t told her what she had done to displease him to the point where he couldn’t abide even her company.
Worse was that whenever they did speak, her pulse fluttered and things low in her stomach tightened and warmed, until she was driven nearly to distraction by the scent of his skin and the coarse stubble that he could never quite shave smooth. His brown eyes haunted her dreams, and when she taught Finn his math and reading, she was often distracted by the sight of his older brother walking past the house with long, purposeful strides.
Still, Laurel passed the time with ease, happiest when she was cleaning the spacious farmhouse or baking and cooking in the modern kitchen. Water had been brought into the house from the well so she didn’t have to gather it throughout the day, just pump the lever and whatever she needed would splash into her basin or her pot for cooking.
The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels Page 53
