Romance: Western Mail Order Bride Bethany's Love -Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series)

by Catherine Woods

  “Yes,” Maxine said quickly. Sam drew her close. His lips tasted like tobacco and something sweeter underneath, the tartness of an apple, perhaps.

  Maxine had never felt anything like this with Matthew–he had his moments, but hadn't stirred her soul the way Sam had. She opened her mouth to speak when she heard someone call out her name.

  “Matthew!”

  “I've come to fetch you home,” Matthew said, climbing down from his horse. “Or perhaps I should leave you here with this... farmer.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Where else would you have gone except to your sister? Now come here.”

  “No,” Maxine said.

  “No?” Matthew repeated. “No? I paid for you to be my wife, and unless you want to return my money you’re coming with me.”

  “She ain't goin' anywhere with the likes of you,” Sam said, shielding Maxine. “She told me what you did to her. She's my woman now, and I ain't gonna let you take her back to a life she hates.”

  “She didn't hate my money,” Matthew replied. “What can you offer her that I can't? She's coming with me.” But the second Matthew was close enough Sam shoved him back and took a swing at him, his fist connecting with Matthew's jaw with a resounding crack. Maxine gasped and jumped back, covering her mouth with her hand. The two men circled each other. Maxine had never learned much about Matthew, but it was clear that brawling wasn't one of his strengths. She pushed through the ring of men, worried not for Matthew, but for what would happen to Sam if things went too far. Money could buy many things. She launched herself at Sam and hung off his arm to keep him from swinging at Matthew again.

  “Stop,” she said, “for the love of God I won't have you two trying to kill each other.”

  Sam had a murderous look on his face, but he stopped and took a step back from very bloodied Matthew, who spit blood out of his mouth. Maxine looked away, the sight of it making her feel ill.

  “I'm not leaving without her,” Matthew growled.

  “Then I guess you're not goin' anywhere,” Sam replied, “'cos she ain't goin' with you.”

  Maxine fished her handkerchief out of one of her pockets and used it to wipe the blood off of Sam's face. She watched his eyes dart from Matthew to where one of the ranch hands was holding his horse in the distance. His jaw tightened. “I'll race you. I'll bet everything I have. If I win, you leave and never show your face around here again. If I lose, well, I won't stop you from doin' what you like.”

  Matthew scoffed and brushed dirt off of his trousers, but Maxine knew he wouldn't refuse such a direct challenge. It would be an unacceptable blemish on his pride and ego. “Fine,” he said.

  “Fine,” Sam replied.

  “Sam,” Maxine said, holding his arm tight.

  “Don't worry,” Sam said before Maxine could continue. “I've never lost a race yet.” He flashed her a smile and both men stalked off, Matthew to his horse and Sam to the stables. There were never any rules in place during the races, but there had never been a need to make any. Maxine feared what would happen after Sam and Matthew were out of sight.

  It only took a few minutes to get everything ready. The ranch hands milled around, and even Mr. Wilkinson and Richard and the other house servants had lined up on the porch, drawn by the commotion. Richard caught her eye and gestured her to come close.

  “What's going on?” he asked softly. “Who's that well dressed fellow?”

  “My ex-finace,” Maxine whispered back and ignored the shocked look on Richard's face. “Sam challenged him to a race, and–”

  “Sam's one of the best riders I've ever seen,” Richard told her. “Some city boy won't beat him.”

  “I hope you're right,” Maxine said. Sam swung himself into the saddle and nudged his horse up to the line that one of the men had drawn across the road. Someone else was explaining the route to Matthew, pointing off into the distance, but Matthew seemed to be listening with half an ear. He looked irritated and impatient, and his horse danced underneath him, pawing at the dirt.

  Sam gave Maxine one last look, then focused on the road ahead of him. One of the ranchers pointed his gun into the air and fired. The riders were off, followed by a cloud of dust.

  The races only lasted a few minutes, but this one seemed to drag on forever. Sam and Matthew vanished behind the hills. She fiddled with her necklace and mumbled a prayer under her breath. Let Sam win. Let him be safe. Let Matthew leave her in peace. She had never truly wanted to marry him to begin with, it had just been the means to an end, and now that she had found a man she really did care about, the last thing she wanted was to be torn away from him. Maxine strained her ears listening for a gunshot or a horse's whinny, her gaze on the other end of the road where the riders would emerge.

  A dust cloud was the first sign, and then a silhouette, still too far away for Maxine to know who it was.

  Suddenly the men began to cheer, and Maxine felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Matthew wasn't far behind, but Sam was ahead and safe and riding for all he was worth, steadily putting distance between himself and Matthew until, at last, he crossed the finish line.

  He pulled up the horse in front of the house and swung a leg off in one fluid motion, landing on the ground and not stopping until he was on the porch and had grabbed Maxine around the waist and swung her around. He stank of sweat and sun and leather and horses and Maxine had never smelled something so sweet. She hugged him tightly, arms around his neck, and spared a glance to where Matthew was being held back from them by a press of men who very much meant business and had every intention of keeping him from coming any closer.

  “I was so frightened,” Maxine said into Sam's ear, clutching at the back of his head. He squeezed her then put her back down on her feet and cupped her face in his hands.

  “Told you I've never lost a race,” Sam said with a grin that made Maxine feel giddy with happiness. She brushed her lips across his and pressed her face into his sweat soaked shirt.

  Mr. Wilkinson gruffly cleared his throat. Maxine peeked over Sam's shoulder to see him addressing Matthew. “Well, now, I don't rightly know what's going on here, but I do know that I don't appreciate trespassers on my ranch, so you had better scurry on home son before I decide to take matters into my own hands.” Matthew's anger blazed bright in his eyes, but he was largely outnumbered and likely outgunned. With a snarl he whipped his horse around and put his heels to its flanks, leaving a cloud of dust as the only sign that he had ever been there in the first place. “Now Sam,” he continued, turning to face him and Maxine with his hands clasped behind his back, “you best be planning on making an honest woman out of Miss Hanson here.”

  “Yessir,” Sam said. His gaze never left Maxine's face “I wouldn't dream of doing anything else.”

  Wilkinson nodded. “Good,” he said, then cast his eyes over the rest of his staff. “Well? There's still work to be done, is there not? I don't pay you to hang around!”

  A chorus of “no sirs” answered him and the crowd dispersed.

  “Do you mean it, Sam?” Maxine asked.

  “I don't say anything I don't mean,” Sam replied, “but I'm not one to rush things neither. I sure do like you a lot, but I'll wait as long as I need to. You don't need to worry about anythin' now, I promise.” The only thing Maxine could think of to do was kiss him, and so she did.

  “Maybe we can take a walk later?” she asked. “After supper, maybe.”

  Sam smiled. “Anything you want,” he said. “I know I don't have much money but whatever I have, it's yours.”

  “You're all I want,” Maxine said, and she meant it with all of her heart.

  THE END

  Return to TOC

  The Ideal Bride

  Return to TOC

  Chapter 1

  “Nora? Are you coming?”

  The sound of her sister’s voice startled her where she stood. Looking long and hard at her reflection in the glass, Nora Miller let the letter that she had read too ma
ny times to count slip out of her grasp. The time to follow the sweet words on the page through to their perfect promise would come soon enough. For the moment, she had no choice but to play the Maid of Honor. Her light brown locks sat atop her head in a tight bun, and the gown just swirled around her legs. In pale blue, she would be far from the center of attention. No matter. This was Emily’s day, and Nora made sure to tuck the letter into the nearest drawer before pinching her cheeks and moving to meet her sister’s call.

  “There you are!” Emily cried. With a wreath of flowers surrounding her blonde hair and a veil stretching down her back until it nearly met her feet, Emily looked every inch the ideal bride. She held a bouquet of freshly trimmed roses in her small hands, and she started to drag her sister into an embrace when the sharp voice of their mother cut in on the action.

  “You’ll muss her!” Harriet Miller warned. “We can’t have her looking out of sorts before she even makes it to the end of the aisle.”

  Not that Emily could ever look anything but pristine. It was why she was the pick of the county when her older sister had yet to manage even one suitor.

  “Sorry, Mama,” Nora said. “I know how much this means to… to you.”

  Her sister beamed as their mother smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her baby girl’s skirt. The string quartet started to strum from below the steps of their cottage just off the coast of Manhattan, and Harriet regarded Nora with the quickest of glances before fixing her gaze on her husband.

  “Remember, Albert,” she started. “Not too fast. My little girl has to float down those steps like she’s Joshua’s dream come true.”

  “I think he’s already sold on that idea,” Nora said with a light laugh. Emily and her father started to join in on the joke when Harriet snapped her fingers and twisted her mouth into the beginnings of a frown.

  “I know a little more about such things, Nora,” her mother chided. “When and if you have a wedding, then you can play the expert.”

  The way she dragged out the single syllable that was the word if brought Nora’s blood to a boil. Because of course her oldest girl, too tall and too pale with a long nose and eyes spread too far apart was doomed to be a bridesmaid now and a spinster aunt down the line.

  “Fine, Mama,” Nora said in a clipped tone. “May I be allowed to lead the way?”

  “You best not trip either, Nora.”

  Holding her breath, Nora sauntered down the staircase lined with ribbons and watched as every man, woman, and child in attendance stayed in their seats. Not that she expected any one of them to rise, but the pity in their eyes was almost too much to bear. She clutched her fingers tighter around the stems and acknowledged Joshua’s persistently silly smile as she took her place on the makeshift altar and listened to the wedding march fill the air around the breeze just dotting her mother’s back.

  Everyone stood at the sight of Emily on their father’s arm. The girls had spent many long nights in the shadows of their shared bedroom dreaming of wedding days, and Nora blinked back a few tears as it became a reality for one of them. Albert Miller tenderly kissed his youngest daughter’s cheeks and passed her off to the tall boy with bright red hair and sparkling blue eyes as the crowd sat again on Reverend Potts’s orders. As Nora listened to what marriage meant and the journey the pretty pair before him was about to embark upon, Nora felt a buzz in the pit of her stomach creeping its way up her throat. This was so close to what Emily had always wanted.

  Nora’s version would not fit the mold.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  Joshua didn’t seem to need permission as he claimed Emily’s mouth. The room erupted into applause, and Emily smiled at her sister before her new husband took her by the arm and led her in the direction of the receiving line already starting to form. Their mother was off to bask in the glory as Albert touched his daughter’s shoulder.

  “Don’t feel too bad, Nora,” he said in a gentle voice. “You have so many other things to look forward to.”

  “By that you mean my students,” Nora said, and she saw her father nod. The children that she taught to read and write and add their numbers in a straight line were beyond precious to her. But it wasn’t enough. And if Nora couldn’t find the happiness she craved most in this world, there were wide open spaces ripe for the taking. Along with an invitation that she simply could not pass up.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She had fled the reception and swapped out her gown for a sensible blouse and a long brown skirt meant for traveling on a train. Her bags were already packed without anyone being the wiser, everyone too consumed by the bride and her upcoming honeymoon to Europe to meet with Joshua’s people on the other side of the pond.

  “I… I’m taking off,” Nora said as her mother tapped her nails against the doorframe. “Congratulations.”

  “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Harriet asked.

  If she was ever going to tell her mother the whole truth, this was the time.

  “It means that you’re not going to have to put up with either one of us after today,” Nora continued. “Emily’s married. And I’m about to find my own happiness.”

  Harriet’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Nora’s tongue tied as she searched for the right words.

  “Mama, I’ve had my own proposal.”

  Harriet cocked one eyebrow and barely suppressed a sneer.

  “You, Nora? It isn’t wise to read too many romance novels. But I suppose you have to find some way to pass the--”

  “This is not fiction, Mama.”

  Struggling to keep her head up as she moved to the drawer, Nora pulled out the letter, the paper faded by the force of her fingers running over the page. Nora kept the letter in her palm as she waved it before Harriet’s eyes and let the words sink into her mother’s mind.

  “What does this mean?” Harriet asked.

  “Just what it says,” Nora shot back. “A man in Montana is looking for a wife. Someone strong and true to share his days. I think I want to be that woman, Mama. And so I’m taking a train out West to give him his heart’s desire.”

  It had sounded right in her head as she pictured a rugged cowboy with hard hands and an ache in his heart. A man like that could have his share of Emilys with one glance. But he longed for something more. Nora wanted to be that to him, for him, and she hoped for a split second that her mother would bless the idea and stroke her hair as the bun fell out of place.

  “Well this makes sense.”

  Did her mother actually understand? Nora’s heart lifted at the idea, and she hoped for a few kind words as Harriet crumpled the letter in her hand and let it fall to her feet.

  “It’s not as if you find someone of quality, looking like you do.”

  And she was back to being a little girl singing out of tune during her music lessons until it was decided that Nora could never be anything special or desirable.

  “Not here,” Nora said. “Not with you looking over my shoulder and judging me at every turn.”

  “And you think that means that I want you to go and live among the savages?” Harriet asked. “I’d prefer that you’d never been born.”

  There it was. Like the thorns on the roses at every turn. Pleasing to the eye and the nose. But there was brutality just under the petals and only punctuated by her mother’s foot kicking the letter into the farthest corner.

  “But be that as it may, I will not see you bring this family down with a bad choice just because you have nothing else to cling to.”

  Nora’s cheeks flushed crimson as she curled her fingers back around the words and smoothed the letter against the surface of the wall.

  I am willing to offer the world to someone ready to rise to the challenge. Your most recent letter makes me believe that it’s you, Nora. I can’t wait to see and show you so many things.

  With words like that, he was far from a bad call, and Nora eased the letter into the band of her skirt as she star
ed her mother down.

  “You do not get to tell me what to do anymore,” Nora said. She reached for the handle of her meager suitcase and wanted nothing more than the night’s cool air on her face as Harriet seized her free wrist and spun her deeper into the room.

  “Do you realize what you are setting yourself up for?” Harriet challenged. “The man is probably a maniac.”

  “You would say that,” Nora said. “Because how could a sane man want me?”

  “That is the question of the hour.”

  Trembling at the thought that she would not make her way to the depot in time to meet the train, Nora gasped when Emily appeared.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as her smile started to fade.

  “I am glad that you asked!” Harriet spat. “Just take a look.”

  The letter found its way under Emily’s eyes, and Nora shuffled from one foot to the other as Emily scanned the page.

  “I see,” she muttered. “Mama?”

  “Yes, my sweet girl. What do you need me to do?”

  “Can you please see why the wine is getting warm?” Emily asked. “I’d do it myself but--”

  “I would be happy to. But your sister is--”

  “I’ll deal with Nora.”

  Harriet seemed giddy at the prospect of a co-conspirator in her midst, and she gave Nora a glare full of warning as she started down the stairs to see that nothing would spoil the party.

  “So this is why you’ve looked so happy all week,” Emily said.

  Nora shrugged her shoulders and got the letter back under her fingers.

  “It has nothing to do with you,” Nora assured her. “I just--”

  “You still have to run away.”

  Emily offered the observation without malice, and she neatly folded the letter into a triangle as she cupped her sister’s face in her hands.

  “I just didn’t want to ruin the wedding,” Nora insisted.

  “You didn’t,” Emily said. “And is this what you really need?”