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

by Charity Phillips

  When Isabella shot her a frantic look, Lilly squared her shoulders. “I know you don’t want this, but it is better than the poor house.”

  Isabella bit her inner cheek and turned away, fighting the terror in her heart. Not by much.

  ****

  The elegant residential community on Beacon Hill housed some of the city’s finest patrons, and the Crawford clan was no exception.

  The two-floor home, made of the finest brick, nestled between meandering paths and lush gardens with multicolored blooms. It boasted purple glass windows, elegant brass fittings, and tasteful flower boxes in each window.

  The family held an elevated social status enhanced by their good looks and tall statures. The head of the clan, Myles Crawford, had turned into somewhat of a rake—and the high position he courted seemed to bring out the worst in him.

  Some complained of his indulgence in wine and ladies, but Mrs. Crawford turned a blind eye at their discontent. In her deluded mind, no one could smear such a perfect specimen of manhood.

  When Isabella applied for the job, Mr. Crawford did the honors, much to Mrs. Crawford’s surprise. It was only after she saw Isabella that Mrs. Crawford realized the reason behind his choice.

  Despite her fervent desire to cast the new girl out on her ear, Mr. Crawford put his foot down and demanded Isabella remain in the household. Mrs. Crawford had detested her ever since, and strived to get rid of the Spanish native.

  Mr. Crawford had other ideas in mind and decided the time had come for Isabella to serve in more dutiful ways.

  ****

  The exquisite paneled dining room gleamed under a tiered chandelier and boasted polished hardwood floors. The long end table commanded attention with two silver candelabra in the center, and held the finest silver cutlery, crystal goblets, and hand-painted dishes.

  When Isabella scrambled to her station, Mrs. Chambers caught sight of her and sighed with relief. She gave her a large tray, full of warm sliced bread, delectable cheeses, cold cuts, fresh butter, and honey jam.

  “I am glad to see you here, Isabella. The men will retreat for the evening, and Mr. Crawford would like your services in the den. Take this tray, and then return to help me with the ladies.”

  Isabella carried the tray with nimble hands and moved as quickly as she could. When she entered the room, she bit the edge of her lip and clung to the shadows. She intended to escape without any hint of her presence, but one person caught her furtive gaze.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Bella. Doesn’t that mean beautiful in your language?”

  Mr. Crawford broke away from the group huddled around the gaming table and strolled over with a swagger. The stench of liquor cleaved to his pores, and the blast hit Isabella like a wave. Eager to get out of his way, she stepped back and curtsied. “Good evening, sir. Please excuse me. I must retire to serve the ladies.”

  His mouth turned down at her tremulous request, and his eyes narrowed. “You are serving me now. Not them.”

  Before she could guess his true intentions, Mr. Crawford lunged for Isabella with an iron grip. When she cried out in fear, he clamped a sweaty palm over her mouth and whispered, “Be quiet.”

  She struggled to break his tenacious hold, but his clinch on her upper arms was like molten bands of steel. His watery gaze raked the soft curve of her chin, and the delicate tips of her ears. “Have a look at her, gentlemen. Did you ever see such a beauty in all of your life?”

  The men chuckled and ignored Isabella’s horror. When Mr. Crawford dragged her toward the shadowed corner, her legs buckled beneath her. The sudden movement tipped the balance, and Mr. Crawford released her in surprise. When she scrambled to rise, he spat, “That’s the perfect place for you, girl. Right at my feet. I will show you what it means to disrespect—”

  “Darling, how is the game?”

  Mrs. Crawford sailed into the room, dressed in abundant layers of silk and satin. Mr. Crawford immediately relaxed the contemptible lines on his face and flashed a debonair grin. “Fine, my dear. Just having a nice, friendly game.”

  Mrs. Crawford flashed him an adoring look and surveyed the scene. When she saw Isabella skirting the shadows, her mouth twisted into hard lines. “What are you doing here, girl? Get downstairs this minute, or I will take a strap to you.”

  Isabella murmured an apology and stumbled out, then Mrs. Crawford turned back to her husband. She fingered his collar and fluttered her eyes with a come-hither gaze. “Continue, my darling. I will not impose on your sanctuary any longer.”

  Mr. Crawford pecked his wife on the cheek with a lazy murmur. “Do you know how much I love you, my sweet?”

  ****

  Lilly and Isabella huddled in the kitchen, among the rows of sparkling pots and pans. The hushed atmosphere would soon bustle with the chatter of servants after the dinner concluded, and they had little time to spare.

  Before the wave of scurrying bodies began, Isabella tried to compose herself. “What—am I going—to do? Lilly—help me.”

  Lilly embraced Isabella’s quivering body and crooned, trying to infuse some sense of calm. “It’s over and won’t happen again. I will watch over you.”

  Isabella wanted to believe her words, but her heart raced like a herd of runaway horses. Bitter sobs threatened to tear her apart, and she couldn’t string two thoughts together.

  “Isabella, stop, please. This isn’t good for the baby.”

  At Lilly’s urgent appeal, Isabella reeled. How could she forget her unborn child? With superhuman effort, she stemmed the scalding tears and shuddered. “Forgive me, Lilly—but I can’t—I can’t stay here any longer. I just can’t.”

  Lilly understood the dilemma and thought hard. “I know you are worried because your husband is back, and Mr. Crawford is an abominable cad, but I think I have an idea to help you.”

  At Isabella’s hopeful look through red-rimmed eyes and splotched cheeks, Lilly snapped her fingers. “You can stay with me at the tenement house. It is not great, but no one will look for you there. I will bring you food, and you can wear my clothing. You will have to take them in, but you will be safe. Then we can think of something else. Maybe you can find a job without references in the papers. I will bring one later.”

  “Oh, Lilly, thank you.”

  As both women embraced, Isabella thanked God for such a dear friend. When she had boarded the train with a one-way ticket from Philadelphia to Boston, she wondered how she would make it. She had had no money and no references.

  Lilly had found her perched at the edge of a cobblestone road, with a haunted face and terrified eyes. She had walked up and asked in a sweet voice, “Can I help you?”

  Isabella had been so touched that she barely remembered the words exchanged between them, and Lilly had been a constant friend ever since. It was she who’d found her the job on Beacon Hill and helped Isabella to keep her pregnancy hidden.

  “I can never repay your kindness to me.”

  Lilly brushed off her words with a warm smile. “You don’t owe me anything. Now dry your eyes to avoid busybodies and prying questions. I will explain everything to Mrs. Chambers.”

  Isabella appreciated the help more than she could say. Anything to escape Mr. Crawford’s constant innuendos and grasping hands. In many ways, he reminded her of her first husband, Armand.

  At first, Armand had seemed like a good man, with his loving smile, handsome face, and gentle ways. Once they were married, however, everything changed. And Isabella was at the mercy of his pummeling fists more times than she cared to count.

  When she found out she was with child, she made up her mind to escape. It had taken weeks of meticulous planning, but when she ran, she didn’t look back. And now, he had returned. No, dear God. Not again.

  ****

  Lilly stayed true to her word, and for one week, Isabella lived in relative calm. The tenement house bordered a section known as Little Italy, with endless rows of wooden homes and mismatched planks. The buildings clung to narrow streets with slanted
roofs, along a network of churches and schools.

  Despite the squalor, the atmosphere bustled with a flurry of activities. The newcomers were eager to make their presence felt and set up their wares of fruits, wine, vegetables, cheeses, and olive oil. Their single-minded drive to create a better life led to countless establishments that sprang up overnight.

  Isabella enjoyed the lively scene from the edge of a grime-encrusted window. And she loved to watch the young ones skipping about with cheerful cries, in bright summer clothing.

  She ran a gentle hand across her waist and whispered, “I pray you will be just as happy, my child.”

  ****

  When Lilly left a copy of the Boston Journal before dashing off to work, Isabella flipped through the pages with bated breath. Nothing appeared to suit her at first, but something caught her eye.

  The ad read: Urgent. A wife wanted in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I am a busy foreman and miner. I am 35 years old, and in need of a wife. She must help me keep house, and be a hard and willing worker. If you have children of your own, you can still apply. The more hands, the merrier the work. Contact Augustus Cranston at the Union Pacific Railroad depot in Cheyenne.

  Isabella caught her breath. If you have children of your own, you can still apply. This was the answer she’d longed for. A new start, far away from the pain and sorrow of her past.

  She checked the address carefully and jumped to her feet. The Union Pacific Railroad had an office in Boston, and she would write to Mr. Cranston before someone else took the offer. Cheyenne, Wyoming, here I come.

  ****

  One month later

  Isabella’s wide gaze lingered on the open fields that spread out like a woven tapestry on endless plains. She had never seen such long stretches of flat land before with not a house in sight. The ground seemed forgotten, abandoned, and alone.

  Before she got the wrong idea and scared herself to death, she took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. She had written to Mr. Cranston, but received no response. When she glanced at the expanse, she could understand why. It must take a long time for letters to travel from one town to another.

  Lilly had been frantic for her to stay until a reply came, but Isabella felt she would lose the chance if she waited any longer.

  “Even if someone has written to him, I might get there in time, and present myself as his bride.”

  Lilly did not find her argument convincing enough, and tried to dissuade her. “Isabella, you don’t know what you are getting into, and I don’t have any money to help you get back if something goes wrong. I can only help with the ticket to get there.”

  Isabella knew the idea lacked common sense, but she couldn’t wait. “I saw my brother-in-law yesterday near the waterfront. He sent word and told me Armand knows where you work. I cannot chance it anymore, Lilly. I have to go.”

  When Lilly read the staunchness in her gaze, her shoulders drooped in defeat. “Fine, but you are not going alone.”

  When Isabella blinked in surprise, Lilly squared her shoulders. “You can’t go tearing off to the Wild Wild West alone. I am coming with you to make sure everything goes well. Besides, you need a chaperone, and we can try to work for our keep. We might even strike it rich. What do you think?”

  Isabella cheered in delight and danced to an imaginary ballad. “I will feel so much better with you there. But are you sure about this?”

  Lilly nodded, a determined glint in her eye. “It will make me feel much better, too. Let’s do it.”

  ****

  The conductor announced, “Cheyenne, fifteen minutes,” and Isabella breathed a sigh of relief. After unending travel days, they had finally arrived. “Lilly, we are finally here. Come on, let’s go!”

  Lilly yawned with half-closed eyes and adjusted her bonnet. Then she gazed at her rumpled dress with a frown, “I feel like a sack of potatoes, with lots of lumps and no taste.”

  Isabella giggled at Lilly’s disgruntled look, and stretched. She longed to stand on solid ground, after days of rugged trails.

  When they alighted, the conductor helped them get their travel bags. Then they trudged across the network of tracks, careful to avoid tripping over the uneven rows.

  When they got to the depot, both women gawked at the impressive structure built of sandstone, steep roofs, and elegant arches. In a bid to escape the strong rush of prairie wind, they rushed inside.

  Throngs of people milled about from side to side, with excited chatter. Children darted about with cheerful cries, only to have their parents reprimand them.

  A few travelers greeted one another with hearty smiles, and others waved tearful goodbyes. Rooted to the spot, and impressed by the spacious room with its large fireplace and elegant windows, both women wondered how they would make it.

  “Can I be of service, ladies?”

  The baritone voice pulled Isabella from a lethargic state, and she turned to face the speaker. He removed his hat and meadow-green eyes lingered on her own. A thick blend of sable and silver hair covered his head, and a cropped mustache hugged his upper lip. Laugh lines fanned out from the corner of his eyes, and they crinkled at her steady gaze.

  He smelled like perfumed leaves of a woodland plant, and Isabella blinked. He towered over her by a foot, and his tailored clothing could not hide the whipcord strength of his body.

  Distrustful of the gentle tilt of his lips, she stepped back and said in a cool tone, “We are just fine, thank you.”

  He seemed taken aback at her sudden hostility, and his eyes widened. Lilly stepped in with an apologetic grin, nothing like Isabella’s stiff demeanor. “She’s tired from the journey, sir. We need a bit of help.”

  Isabella did not agree. Prepared to dismiss the stranger from her mind, she spied a sign in the distance. Perhaps they could be of assistance. “Lilly, there’s a sign over there. Why don’t we ask them for help?”

  Lilly followed her gaze, and noted the information sign in big letters over a square window, with a clerk in front. “I guess they can help.”

  The stranger seemed amused at Isabella’s wish to escape him, if his shadowed smile was any indication. “Are you searching for someone?”

  Isabella gasped, prepared to bolt with Lilly in tow. “How do you know that?”

  The tentative smile vanished from his face, and he frowned at the panic laced through her voice. He raised his hands in a supplicating gesture and murmured, “Steady now. I won’t hurt you.”

  Isabella had the distinct feeling it was the same tactic he used with terrified horses. She wasn’t sure who he was, but she didn’t want anything more to do with him, even if Lilly gazed at him in wonder.

  Maybe if she told him the truth, he would go away. The large throng of people had already begun to dwindle, leaving only stragglers like her and Lilly behind. They had no choice but to find Mr. Cranston, and soon.

  “I am looking for Augustus Cranston. He is a foreman and owns a mine, and I’ve come here as his mail-order bride. Do you know him?”

  The air swirled to a standstill. The man cocked his head and considered Isabella with new eyes. Where friendliness had once been, polite interest now replaced it. “Yes, I do know him. Did you say you are a mail-order bride?”

  Isabella felt he knew more than he let on, which piqued her interest. “Yes, I am. He placed an ad in the paper.”

  She fumbled in her reticule for the wrinkled sheet and gave it to him. “Please tell me he’s not married yet.”

  He skimmed the words with a mysterious air she found distracting. What was he thinking of? Who was he, and why did he single them out? She didn’t think Armand had friends in that part of the world, but what if he did? And what would she do if he’d sent someone after her? What about Lilly? She could be hurt, and Isabella couldn’t let that happen.

  “Augustus works at the Silver S ranch. I can take you both to meet him, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, thank you, dear sir. Please take us.”

  Lilly’s heartfelt response fueled Isabell
a’s fears, and she refused for them both: “No, we don’t know who he is. We can’t go with him, Lilly. Thank you, but we will be just fine on our own, sir.”

  The man outstretched his right hand and bowed slightly. “My name is Daniel Wright, and I am at your service. Please call me Daniel. I work at the Silver S ranch.”

  Lilly accepted his handshake and turned to Isabella with an expectant look. “There. Now you know who he is. Can we please go? I am tired, and I know you must be tired, too.”

  Isabella’s chest tightened with emotion. Yes, she felt tired to the bone. Chagrined at her overreaction, she expelled a deep sigh. He didn’t seem dangerous, but how could one tell?

  Lilly’s flushed face urged her to accept, and Isabella turned to Daniel with a painful smile. “I can’t tell you how grateful that would make us. And if I can ever do anything to help you, just ask.”

  He raised a brow at her comment and declined to answer. Instead he bent forward and swung their travel bags on his shoulder with ease. “Please, follow me, ladies. The buggy is outside.”

  ****

  The Silver S ranch, three miles out of town, appeared just when Isabella felt she could no longer endure one more roll of the buggy’s wheels. The toll of endless travel days and hours of anxious suspense had finally caught up with her. Lilly groaned off and on, and Isabella felt a wave of guilt—but she felt glad to have the company.

  She longed for a place to rest her head and cast tearful eyes at the gold-tipped grass along the rutted roads. Even the tufts looked soft enough to rest on. She was debating whether to ask for a break when she bolted upright and jabbed her elbow into Lilly’s waist. Isabella’s jaw dropped and she gazed in shock at the homestead beyond the rise of the sloping hill.

  The buggy ambled beneath a circular S sign, flanked by rows of tall elm trees under a cloudless summer sky. A sprawling ranch equal to any mansion in Spain or Boston for sheer size stood before them.