“She was none too pleased,” Caroline confessed as she smoothed her hand down Elizabeth’s back. “But I told her you were feeling far from fine. And that it wouldn’t be fitting if you passed the plague on to her valued customers.”
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Elizabeth said as she rolled her eyes. Caroline was nothing if not dramatic, but a small part of Elizabeth almost wished that she could return to the soft bed, curl up under the quilt, and never rise again.
“Maybe,” Caroline conceded. “But it still has to hurt.”
At that Elizabeth nodded and struggled to fight off a fresh stream of tears. Her gaze shifted towards the bureau resting just under the tiny mirror on the far wall. Caroline was quick to follow her stare, and the dark-haired girl bit down on her lips as soon as she spied one of the many objects of Elizabeth’s despair.
“The brooch,” she said. “Maybe the one good thing that louse left you.”
Caroline was on her feet, and she picked up the jewelry. The fine ebony stone lined with silver as a flower carved out of pearl rested in its center was the finest thing that Elizabeth had ever been able to call her own.
“I told him that it was too much,” Elizabeth admitted as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “He said that nothing was too good for me. And that there was more where it came from.”
“Like possibly something of the diamond variety?” Caroline asked. At the question, Elizabeth shoulders started to shake, and she hid her face in her hands as Caroline folded her in a warm embrace.
“You want some advice, Lizzie?” Lifting her head, Elizabeth waited without breathing as Caroline dangled the precious piece before her eyes. “I say you should sell it. Might as well get something out of the man leading you along. Net yourself a tiny profit and see what else the world has to offer.”
That was the point of coming to Beecher’s Pass in the first place. After the better part of a lifetime spent under the roof of the orphanage just outside of Claremont, Elizabeth came of age and was nearly resigned to the sad truth that no one would ever want her. Was it something in the way she looked? Was her face too round or her hair too frizzy? The day she turned eighteen, the moment of liberation sent her in search for something better.
And right on cue, there was Gregory Mitchell promising the world with a smile and the sweetest voice. He had come to town with the railroad. Caroline called him one of the fat cats who doled out the wages and never got his hands dirty. Those same hands were so soft when they stroked Elizabeth’s cheeks, and his lips were tender every time he pulled her in for a kiss and ran his fingers through her hair.
Until they spoke the awful truth.
“He said he has no choice in the matter,” Elizabeth started. “It’s an arrangement that his father made, and he has to honor the obligation.”
That meant that another girl, probably a willowy blonde with fine manners and porcelain skin would get to call Gregory her husband, and Elizabeth was left out in the cold once again.
“Rich boys always fall back on that line,” Caroline said as she pressed the brooch into Elizabeth’s palm and brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek. “As if we are supposed to believe that it just came out of thin air.”
“What do you mean by that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Lizzie, it’s a done deal when they’re still in diapers,” Caroline started. “They always know what their destiny is. And they pretend to be so tortured when they capture our hearts with pretty words and gifts. The parting is such sweet sorrow. But the love was never meant to last.”
As Elizabeth let the words sink in, she slowly started to shake her head.
“No. Not Gregory. He’s different. I know that he loved me.”
“Then why didn’t he fight to stay with you, honey?”
She had no answer to Caroline’s question. Even if he was caught in a trap, Gregory was going to link this life to someone else. In short order, there would be little ones to look after. How Elizabeth longed to shower one baby or more with the love that she had lost.
“What do I do now?” she asked as she blinked hard without any tears left to shed. “And I’m not pawning the brooch. It still means something to me.”
“Fair enough,” Caroline said with a heavy sigh. “But you really are too sweet to keep slinging hash. And there are other ways to get a fresh start.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, and Caroline reached into her pocket to reveal a small scrap of paper snipped from the newspaper. Focusing on the wrinkled words, she read them quietly and stopped before the end of the sentence.
“No,” she started. “That’s not what I want.”
She had heard the stories. Men whose wives had died from one disease or another or taken off when living off the land became too much too bear.
“Did you get to the best part?” Caroline asked. “Might be the answer to all of your prayers.”
Sucking in a deep breath as she steeled herself to see what Caroline was on about, the last few words burned brighter than the rest on the page.
There are three little ones in need of a mother’s love. To the person that can take them into her heart, I say welcome.
Reading the words a second and then a third time, Elizabeth trailed her fingers across the page and pictured the small children lost and lonely. She knew what it was to lose a mother. And should something happen to their father, what would be their fate?
“I thought of you as soon as I saw it,” Caroline confessed. “Where’s the harm in writing back? You might like the answer.”
“What if it’s no?” Elizabeth mused. “I’m not sure that I could handle that.”
“Would you rather sit in this room and stay sad until the end of time?” Caroline challenged. “A change of scenery will do you a world of good. Take a chance, Lizzie.”
It still seemed like a fool’s errand, but Elizabeth pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer. Her pencil was dull, but she moved to the desk and tapped the point to the stained wood and wondered where she should start.
“At the beginning,” Caroline prompted as she joined her at the desk and nudged her shoulders. “Just be honest; it’s what you do best.” Her smile was sweet, and Caroline planted an encouraging kiss on the top of her head as Elizabeth focused on the blank page and saw her own mother wracked with fever to the point where she could not stand up straight. The woman took to her bed and thrashed around the sheets until her body grew still and her eyes turned glassy. She made sounds without words and then nothing at all. Elizabeth remembered tugging on her mother’s sleeve and begging her to come back when a neighbor carried her out of the room. Her father avoided her eyes as the body was prepared for burial, and once her mother was lowered into the ground, his stare turned even colder. Sometimes she had wished that he would go away if he couldn’t even hold her.
And fate granted her request in the simplest and cruelest of ways. Her father was on his way home, for whatever that was worth, when his horse skipped a stone and sent him crashing into the ground. The word around the county was that he was gone before anyone had the chance to turn his body over and see his face, but Elizabeth would have taken him on any terms when her life became the orphanage. Having to fight for food or a blanket made her long for the man’s stony silence. Maybe that’s why she fell for Gregory’s charms. He could spin poetry out of a request for more potatoes, and the failure to hear the sound of his voice hurt almost as much as the loss of his kiss.
“Lizzie?” Caroline prodded. “Aren’t you going to write something down?”
“Yes,” she said. “But no more than he needs to know.”
Her pencil moved across the page in swirling lines. Elizabeth’s sentences were short as she pictured a man like her father. Frail and withered well before his time as he absorbed the words and took a pass like so many had done before. But she wanted something more as she punctuated the point.
“How does this sound?” Elizabeth asked. Caroline took the finished letter into her hands and smiled as
she read aloud.
“I can make your house a home. And I hope to hear from you soon.”
“A little bit of a weak finish, no?” Caroline asked.
“It is what it is,” Elizabeth stated. “Post it. We’ll see what happens.” She started to move back to the bed and fell into the sheets. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow.”
“And the next day?” Caroline asked as she patted her cheek.
“That’ll be me, too.”
She finally slept and rose to meet the new morning. Caroline passed her an apron as soon as she entered the noisy room and heard cutlery smashing against plates as hungry mouths slurped coffee down. Mrs. Anderson told her that she needed to watch her step lest she lose her present positon altogether and Elizabeth let the week slide by. And another after that. Whoever he was had to have viewed the letter by now, and she wished that she had said something more when Caroline grabbed her by the arm and waved a torn envelope in her face.
“It’s here!” Caroline squealed. “Looks like you knew what you were doing all along.”
Elizabeth took hold of the folded page with trembling hands and shot Caroline a smirk.
“You really shouldn’t be reading my mail,” she said. “But since you’ve already done the deed, do you want to tell me what has you smiling?”
“It’s your ticket out!” Caroline squealed. “Just look, Lizzie.”
She scanned the page and felt her eyes grow wide at the sight of the words.
Home sounds right. I’ve enclosed money for train fare. Hope you’re alright with the rails.
“Seems fitting,” Caroline said. “So you’re going to accept the offer. Right, honey?”
Licking her lips, Elizabeth stared into the distance and considered her options.
Chapter Two
It took a total of two sleepless nights for Elizabeth to arrive at the decision. The offer in the letter was short and sweet. So he was a man of few words. But what had Gregory’s declarations of love yielded? Only a broken heart that doomed her to a dead end life. And if nothing else, the man’s children needed her. Elizabeth finally packed her meager belongings and steeled herself for a teary goodbye with her only real friend in the world.
“Honey,” Caroline started, “This is the start of good things. Don’t look so sad and scared.”
“I’m not,” she lied. “Well, not really. But I sort of wish that you could come along with me.”
Caroline smiled softly and released a small sob as she stroked her face.
“Now don’t go being like that, Lizzie,” she gently warned. “The man sent for you. Those little ones need someone sweet. Wouldn’t want him to renege at the first sight of me.”
“Of course you’re sweet, too,” Elizabeth whispered as she pulled her in for a quick hug and kissed her cheek.
“And it’s not goodbye,” Caroline promised. “The time will come when we’ll see one another again.”
“I’ll look forward to that.”
They lingered in the embrace for a few moments more, and Elizabeth thought she saw tears shining in Caroline’s eyes when her friend eased her away and lightly slapped her shoulder.
“Get a move on, little mother,” she said. “And remember you can always send me a letter.”
Turning on her heel, Elizabeth walked through the winding streets and caught a quick glimpse of the railroad’s base of operations. For a second she thought that she saw Gregory, and she imagined him rushing towards her if only to ask how she was and where she was off to. Would the news that she was leaving to marry another man give him pause and tempt him to change his plans? The small hope stayed a fantasy when he failed to appear, and she hopped the stage to the next town over to board the rails already laid down and make her way to a new life.
As the wheels moved over the tracks and past the rolling hills, Elizabeth pulled the letter from her pocket and reread the simple lines several times over.
Home sounds right. I’ve enclosed money for train fare. Hope you’re alright with the rails.
The note was signed Jacob Larson. Her fingers traced the loop of his first initial, and she imagined the man writing the letter by the light of a single candle once he had bundled his children into bed. Did he eagerly await her response in the nights that followed?
Elizabeth’s acceptance of the second chance was equally brief.
It would be an honor and privilege to be at your side.
She clung to that idea as the train rolled away from everything that she had ever known, and Elizabeth started to drift into a dream of a perfect house with loving children when the train jolted forward.
“Think this is your stop, Miss.”
The big-bellied conductor whispered to the nearest porter to remove her bag from the overhead compartment, and Elizabeth grabbed the handle as she walked past the other passengers and stepped on to the platform. The steam from the train wafted all around her, and she looked for someone that might resemble a father in need of a helping hand. She felt like the sister of Goldilocks as she saw a child who was obviously on the verge of his own adventure in an ill-fitting suit and tie. To the left, there was a man with a long gray beard. His hands were weak on the reins. Was this Jacob? Had he taken a child bride and had to deal with the irony when the woman in question left him far too soon? He spat a stream of chewed tobacco out of the corner of his lip, and Elizabeth started to move closer when a strange hand fell on her shoulder.
“Miss Wilder?”
“How do you know my name?”
The only answer to her question was a man with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She went weak in the knees at the sight of them, but the man steadied her waist and gave her the faintest of smiles.
“It was in your letter,” he said. “Are you Miss Wilder?”
Elizabeth wanted to scream to the heavens in way of gratitude. This was the man that had answered her letter. Maybe he didn’t smell like lavender or wear the finest of suits. In point of fact his boots were lined with mud and his shirt was wrinkled. But his eyes glimmered as she bowed her head.
“I am so happy to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Larson,” she started. “And you can call me Lizzie.”
Their eyes locked, and he tilted his head from one side to the other.
“Is that a pet name?” he asked.
“It’s what most people call me.”
“Well since I’m not most people, let’s leave it at Elizabeth.”
She nodded and let him lead her towards a rickety wagon. He dumped her bag into the back and Elizabeth trembled until he lifted her up and assumed the seat beside her.
“You’re a lot younger than I pictured,” Jacob said. “You can’t be much more than twenty.”
“Twenty-two,” she said. And he looked like he was dancing close to thirty. But he hardly looked old, and she fought the urge to fall into his shoulders as he tightened his hands around the reins and left the depot in search of the landscape.
“Hillary’s almost twelve,” Jacob said as they moved down a dirt path. “Twins are seven. I know it’s a lot to ask of anyone.”
“I’m up to the challenge,” she said. “It doesn’t scare me.”
“I hope so.”
When she peered over the edge of the wagon, she saw ragged cliffs and the ground dipping for miles before her eyes.
“Easy now,” Jacob cautioned as he pulled her back to his side. “Wouldn’t want you falling over.”
“Last thing I want,” she muttered as he turned the corner past a swath of trees. A barn came into view along with cages housing chickens. The thought of fresh eggs nearly made her mouth water when Jacob brought the wagon to a stop.
“There’s something that you need to know, Elizabeth.”
She smiled up at him and wanted to wrap him in her arms. The man looked so tired; she could give him rest with a few kind words.
“I’m ready,” she said as she smoothed her hands down the length of her skirt. “Whatever you and your children need.”
&
nbsp; “But that’s just it. They are not my children.”
Her heart started to pound wildly in her chest. Not his children? So what were they? Rescues from another orphanage that he was using to nab himself a wife? Elizabeth tensed and thought that she could climb off and race back to the rails when Jacob laid his hand over hers.
“My sister’s,” he continued. “She was all they had in the world. I came around to help when their old man bit the dust.”
“How horrible that must have been for them.”
“Not easy,” Jacob confessed. “And I can’t handle them on my own anymore.”
“You trying to scare me off?” she asked. “I came all this way. What’s to stop me now?”
Jacob sighed as he whipped his horse back to total attention.
“You should meet them first,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”
They stopped at the edge of a ranch house with a long porch. Jacob stepped down and raised his hands to help her to her feet. Elizabeth glided down the length of his long body and sighed into his shoulder.
“I’m sure it’s not all bad, Mr. Larson,” she said.
“Jacob,” he said. “We should use first names.”
“Fine. And I really do want to help.”
They shared a smile that shattered as two small figures with matching blonde hair stomped down the porch steps. The boy had a fuzzy teddy bear clasped to his side.
“Hello!” he squealed as he let the stuffed animal fall closer to his feet and reached up for someone, anyone’s hold. Elizabeth took the lead and took the boy to her breast.
“Who is your friend?” she asked. “I’d love to know him better.”
“He doesn’t have a name. Just carries him around like a sack of potatoes.”
The little girl looked far too weary for so young a girl.
“Don’t let it get to you,” Jacob whispered. “She was like this before she lost her mother. Charlie? Sarah? This is Elizabeth.”
Both children came closer to her skirts, and Elizabeth instinctively wrapped her arms around their small bodies and tried to find their eyes as she spoke fast.
Romance: Western Mail Order Bride Bethany's Love -Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) Page 130
