Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  She followed him to the bedroom, surprised that he could manage so well on his own, but she insisted on helping to lower him onto the mattress and arranged his leg on the pillows Adam had brought for her.

  “Thank you, Adam. Now, I know this is difficult, but I promise your father is going to be just fine. Right now though, I need to focus on fixing his leg.”

  Adam nodded solemnly, and scurried to sit down on the chair next to the bed, watching intently. She turned her attention to the luggage she’d yet to unpack, pulling out the small case full of useful things she’d collected as a nurse.

  “This is going to hurt, I’m afraid,” she told him, biting at her bottom lip as she applied the poultice that would keep the wound from becoming infected.

  “How is it you know what to do?” Caleb asked with a grimace, though he was also searching her eyes like he so often did.

  She opened her mouth to lie, but no words came out. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t lie to the man she loved—to the man who had saved her life—a moment longer. If he hated her for it, if he sent her away, then so be it, but she could not continue to deceive him.

  “I volunteered as a nurse during and after the war for three years. I was never a librarian,” she confessed, willing him to forgive her.

  He was silent for a moment, not even flinching as she tended to his leg. “The nightmares…” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

  She nodded, keeping her gaze focused on the task in front of her.

  “Your family?” he asked, this time, with a question in his tone.

  She’d come this far. She wouldn’t turn back now. “My parents died in a tragic accident when I was fourteen, and I was sent to live with my uncle. He’s a wretched man who never wanted me there, and he was intent on marrying me off as quickly as he could. He didn’t object to my volunteering as a nurse because it got me out of his house, but when I returned…” She hesitated, remembering the awful fight with Uncle Robert.

  “When you returned, his interest in marrying you off resumed, and you were not…pleased with his choice.”

  She nodded, although he made it sound like she’d acted like an obstinate child, rejecting the man of her uncle’s choosing. “Caleb, the man…” How could she make him understand? And how could she explain that he was, in fact, the man who lay dead in the next room? “He was an evil fiend, and—”

  “I was arrested, Tessa,” he interrupted. “A man I fought beside betrayed me and had me convicted of a crime I did not commit. He had me thrown in prison.”

  He wasn’t rejecting her…he was opening up to her, but what he told her made her heart ache for him. “Why would he do such a hideous thing?”

  “I found out later he had known of me prior to the war. He wanted my wife and intended to have her until our betrothal was announced—though, I learned later that did not stop him, nor Patricia.”

  Mary’s eyes grew wide, her jaw dropping as she covered her mouth in shock.

  “Little did he know, when he had me imprisoned, I’d recently received word that Patricia had died just weeks after giving birth to Adam.”

  “But then…how are you here now? Why are you no longer in prison?”

  “There was a riot; a fire in the prison. I should not have been able to escape, but the guard…he was kind. He had spoken to me often in my years there, even though the prison demanded silence. He pulled me out of the fire, but instead of heaping me with the rest of the prisoners, he let me sneak away.”

  He was silent for a moment, but she had a feeling he wasn’t finished. She waited quietly, applying a final dressing over his wound.

  “I traveled home to Portland, collected my son who had been in the care of my parents since Patricia’s death, and came here without telling a single soul where I was going. I was fairly certain all the guards at the prison would believe I was dead, but the man who had put me there…I could not trust…”

  “I understand, Caleb.” She tried to tell him that she held no animosity for his deceptions; how could she?

  “My name is Caleb Westmoreland.”

  Her head shot up, recognizing the name instantly. “You’re from Maine…you said you were from Portland…I’ve heard of the Westmorelands there.” She’d heard of them because, just like the Kenleighs, the Westmorelands were one of the most prominent families in New England.

  “Yes, but that is not all, Tessa. My name is Caleb Westmoreland, and the man who betrayed me…is John Wendell.”

  No! The man she’d run away from was the same man who had nearly destroyed Caleb’s life. And by her running off to marry Caleb, she’d brought John Wendell right to his door and nearly cost him and Adam everything. She hadn’t understood why he’d chosen that moment to tell her the things he’d been keeping from her, particularly why he’d cut her off when she’d been in the midst of doing the same, but now she understood. Their pasts were intertwined. How could he ever forgive her for bringing the villain there?

  “Oh, Caleb…and I brought him right here…”

  “You couldn’t have known, Mary,” he offered, grimacing as she adjusted the dressing.

  Mary? She’d never told him her name wasn’t Tessa. “How do you know…”

  “A man came by the house this morning looking for John Wendell’s fiancée. He showed me a picture of you. I thought I’d put on a good show, but John must have been nearby and recognized me.”

  “You could have handed me over…you should have—”

  “I couldn’t,” he whispered emphatically, and suddenly, the love that shone in Caleb’s eyes was unmistakable.

  Feeling bolder than she’d ever felt in her life, and drawing on the bravery she’d found within herself during the war, she leaned down slowly, watching his eyes every second. She waited for the wall, for the distance he so often put between them, but it didn’t come.

  She stopped no more than a hair’s breadth from him, feeling his warm breath against her lips. Still no wall. What she saw there instead warmed her heart. She closed the gap, touching her lips lightly against his, once, twice, mimicking the way he’d kissed her the night before. And as her lips settled over top of his, she felt his arms around her, holding her close to him.

  She had no idea where they would go from there; whether they would continue to call the west their home, or make their way back east now that John Wendell could no longer wreak havoc on either of their lives.

  But it didn’t matter. The only thing she’d ever wanted from a marriage was suddenly hers. She had the love of the man she adored with all her heart.

  A Westmoreland and a Kenleigh, she thought ironically as Caleb held her closer.

  What would her dear uncle say if he ever found out she’d made such a match all on her own?

  THE END

  Mail Order Bride: Virginia’s Journey

  Story Description

  Boston, Massachusetts – 1887

  Years of working at a textile mill in Boston, Massachusetts has made young Virginia Campbell absolutely restless. She begins to yearn for love and marriage, and dreams of one day starting a family of her own.

  One lovely morning, she and her friends Eliza, Margaret and Dorothy purchase a newspaper and begin searching through the mail order bride advertisements. Virginia is immediately drawn to an ad placed by a handsome young rancher named Archie Monroe who lives in Missoula Mills, Montana. Her heart leaps in her chest as her thoughts become flooded with what the future could hold. In no time, she gathers up everything she owns and bravely embarks on a train bound for the western frontier.

  Upon her arrival, Virginia comes face to face with the dashing man in the ad, and is instantly struck by his incredible warmth and charm. She quickly settles into life in Montana during their courtship and takes a job at a nearby orphanage that desperately needs her help, while Archie spends his time tending to the day to day duties that come with owning a vast ranch.

  Before long, danger rears its head in the form a tribe of Indians who s
eem to want to destroy the ranch and everything Archie has worked all of his life to achieve. As tensions rise and come to a crescendo, Virginia has a moment of clarity and realizes that perhaps the very key to restoring peace between the tribe and Archie lies with a young Indian orphan under her care.

  Virginia Campbell had become tired of life in Boston. She had her friends Eliza, Margaret and Dorothy to keep her company and to help while away the hours in the textile mill where they worked, but she was restless. More importantly than that, she was nearing twenty-three years of age and she longed to be married to a dashing young fellow with a sense of adventure. Unfortunately for Virginia, she had yet to find such a man in Boston, and that is precisely why she wanted to leave the city.

  After the war ended, it seemed that many men in the cities and towns on the East Coast felt the same itch to explore what lay out West. Stories of gold and rich land to be cultivated had filled the heads of the easterners. Growing up, Virginia’s parents had always stressed to her the importance of marrying well; now that she was perfectly of age, however, she could not seem to find a suitor who would fit the bill.

  Fortunately, the newspapers had a popular service wherein young men from the West placed advertisements for mail order brides to join them. It would seem that once they became comfortable out on the Frontier, these men would begin to feel the necessity for having wives to keep them happy. After all, gold may shine, but it would not love them back…

  “We should use the mail order bride service,” Virginia suggested with a nod to her friends after work one afternoon. “I do not wish to be doom and gloom about it, but it may just be the only way that we shall find husbands.”

  All of her friends were in agreement with her. Working in the factory had been wonderful for their own personal growth and financial independence, but they were women, after all—and young ones, at that. They each still clung to the romantic ideals of the past. Together, they headed off to the general store straight away and purchased one such newspaper.

  Huddled together on a bench, the young women flipped through the pages and scanned through the advertisements. Virginia’s eyes fell on several of them, but the life that the men described did not sound ideal to her. She fancied herself a housewife; she was no farmer. With a bit of practice, she was sure that she could learn anything, but she was hoping to find someone a bit different. A bit thrilling…

  Finally, she came across and advertisement that caught her eye:

  Thirty-five-year-old rancher by the name of Archie Monroe seeks a new bride to keep him company on his ranch in the town of Missoula Mills, Montana. Must be young, intelligent and interested in animals.

  He had been kind enough to include a small portrait of himself; he had dark hair and dark eyes, and he wore a floppy hat and overalls.

  Virginia smiled down at the photograph. Mr. Archie Monroe. He was a handsome gentleman, and his lifestyle sounded interesting and fun. Right away, upon seeing her friends do likewise, she took a pen and some paper and began writing a letter in response.

  Dear Mr. Monroe,

  My name is Virginia Campbell. I am twenty-two years old and I live in Boston, Massachusetts. I work in a textile factory in the city, but I long to move away and find a new life of adventure and discovery. Your advertisement caught my attention because it seems that you are offering just that. I have never lived on a farm, much less a ranch, but it sounds quite exotic and fun. I adore horses and dogs, as well as cats. I am sure that any animal that lives on your ranch will be a delight to me.

  What sorts of things do you do on your ranch? I imagine that the land there must be beautiful and sprawling, not like here where everything is built up and industrial. The fresh air must be splendid. I must sound rather desperate for something new, and I hope you will not think that I am too anxious to leave. Of course, I love my town. It is the place of my birth and it is all I have ever known. But of course, you must understand that one must try and explore new places and experience new things if one wants to have a full and enriching life!

  I have written long enough, I do believe. Please write back to me and let me know how you are and how you have received my letter. We can be pen-pals and keep each other entertained for as long as you would like. I hope that we shall be dear friends in no time.

  Fondest regards,

  Virginia Campbell

  She read over her letter and was quite proud of her handiwork. Virginia placed the letter into an envelope and carefully sealed it up. There would be time later for her to include a photograph of herself; if Mr. Monroe requested it, she could provide one immediately next time.

  “That was exciting,” she said to her friends as they took their letters to the postal office to be mailed off. “Though now comes the long wait.”

  ****

  Working in the factory had its good days and bad days. Sometimes it could get frightfully hot, and those were the days that Virginia most wished that she could frolic freely in the fields of some new, uncharted place. Her daydreams were often quite vivid and she had to stop herself from letting herself go overboard whilst she was meant to be working at her sewing machine. She did notice once or twice that her friend Eliza had the same dreamy expression on her face. Both of them were in need of a change; not because of unhappiness, but because they both longed to find love and new life experiences.

  The trouble was that their boss seemed to be onto them as well. Virginia noticed the older man’s glare one day while she was sewing and thinking about the Montana territory, trying to imagine it with her mind’s eye.

  “Careful, Miss Campbell,” their boss warned. “You will tend to make mistakes if you do not pay attention.”

  Virginia knew he was right. She had made a few blunders in her time and had to go back and re-stitch things. “I don’t know why we even must use these things,” she said. “I sew much better with my own two hands.”

  Their boss shook his head. “But you cannot sew faster.”

  He had a point there. Virginia did her best to stay focused on her work after that, and she made the hours go by faster by humming. Before long, she would have a new letter from Mr. Monroe, she hoped. Then she would not have to simply daydream. She would be able to think about the things he said to her and all of the marvelous stories that she was sure he had to tell her.

  The anticipation was exciting all in itself.

  ****

  Thankfully for Virginia, that anticipation did not have to last too long. A few days later, a letter arrived with her name on the envelope. None of her other friends had received a response so quickly! Being the good, caring friend that she was, she kept it to herself so they would not be disappointed. Surely, they would feel excited for her, but Virginia just knew that there would be disappointment and impatience in their hearts as well. She thought it would be best to let them go on waiting with the thrill and excitement of what was hopefully to come for them soon.

  She brought the letter back with her and closed the door once she was alone in her room. Her hands were practically buzzing with nervous excitement when she sat down and opened the envelope, taking care to not tear it too harshly, which would make the return address illegible. Then she held the letter in her trembling hands and read it several times over, an ever-widening grin on her lovely face.

  Dear Miss Campbell,

  Thank you kindly for your response to my advertisement. I must confess that I did not have a whole lot of faith in this mail order business, but I thought it was a chance worth taking. You seem like you are a very intelligent and skilled young lady that I would indeed like to get to know better. Please tell me more about what you like to do in Boston? What are your hobbies and interests?

  As for your questions: my ranch is a cattle ranch. I raise, purchase and sell cattle. I have been quite prosperous here in Missoula Mills, although I have unfortunately had several run-ins over the years with the local Indian tribe. They are an unfriendly bunch who come onto my land and rather decimate the place when they can… Fortun
ately, the sheriff is a helpful person around here and things have not been quite as bad for me as they have been for some of the other ranchers.

  Please do not be worried for me, or for what the situation would be like if you were to come here. It has been quite a while since I’ve had any trouble, so it is likely that the Indians have given up their meddling. A love of horses, you say? That is definitely a good thing to have if you live in these parts. I also have several dogs who like to accompany me when I am running the cattle through the pastures. I haven’t got a cat, though I reckon we could use one to keep the mice away. Thank you kindly for the suggestion.

  You do not sound desperate to me. A man likes to hear when a woman is interested in the place where he lives and the things that he does. The fresh air is mighty nice. It is much more fresh than the air in the factories, I bet.

  I wonder if you might send along a picture of yourself. It would be so wonderful to have your photograph to keep in my pocket and remind me of who is thinking of me across the country. I am sure that you must be such a beauty.

  Thank you again for writing. I look forward to reading more from you. In the meantime, please stay safe in that factory, Miss Campbell. Don’t work your little fingers too hard.

  Sincerely,

  Archie Monroe

  Virginia blushed when he told her to be careful with her fingers. He seemed to be quite taken with the fact that she was a working girl, but she could tell that he would have really preferred it if she was just relaxing—maybe even by his side. She blushed again when she thought about living there with him. He wanted to see what she looked like; she really was not surprised about that, but she was so glad that he asked. Virginia believed that if he had not asked for such details and personal things like that, it would have been a sign that he really was not all that interested.