Some days they would spend the afternoon acting out the storybooks, dueling like pirates or dancing around like princes and princesses. Other days, John would simply sit on Julia’s lap and allow her to read the story out loud to him. He was a quick learner, very smart, and so interested in the world that he would often ask her to read more advanced things, like books on the natural world. She was all too happy to oblige.
His interest made him a handful on occasion. Some days he would stare out the windows as they were sitting down for reading time, not paying attention at all. She would scold him, but only a little. Julia understood that he was just a boy of eight and that being outside was as important as the things he would read in a book for his development. That was why she allowed him outside to play on days instead of reading, though not every day, and always with supervision.
One of Julia’s duties on the ranch was making meals. She had discussed it with Mr. Baroque, who had offered to hire her a cook and a maid if she required them, and decided that she wanted to take care of the household on her own. Once a week, a woman from town would come in a help out with things that Julia had fallen behind on, but otherwise, the house was hers.
This was why little John was outside on his own, playing amidst the horses. She had told him not twenty minutes earlier that she had to make lunch for them and his father; he was to find something entertaining to occupy himself with inside the house until she was done. Being the adventurous little boy he was, he disregarded her wishes and bound out of the house, sneaking past his father in the sitting room, and raced to the wide expansive land that made up the ranch.
Julia was just finishing up lunch when she heard the cry.
It sounded like it was John.
Dropping the dish immediately, she rushed to the front. Wyatt was there as well, having heard the same noise as she had. “Where is John?” she asked him, feeling panic bubbling up within her breast.
Instead of answering, Wyatt raced outside, Julia hot on his heels. There was another cry, and this time, Julia was positive it was John.
She spotted him a moment later. He was lying in the dirt, body turned around awkwardly. Holding his leg, he cried and called for help. In the distance, Julia could just see a young colt bucking and tossing his mane.
“John!” she cried, racing towards him. Wyatt had seen him, too, and they reached the boy at the same time.
“John, my boy, are you alright?” asked Wyatt, reaching for his son.
“No!” warned Julia, stopping Wyatt who looked as though he was ready to scoop his son up into his arms. “Look at his leg!”
Wyatt glanced down at the leg John was clutching at; it was bent at an abnormal angle.
“I think it’s broken. Moving him may make it worse. We need to set it before we can do anything else.”
John was crying, calling for his father, and Wyatt looked as though he wanted to disregard all of Julia’s words and take him immediately to the doctor. But he didn’t. Instead, he went around behind his son and lifted him ever so slightly by the shoulders; the boy wailed.
“Shhh,” Wyatt told him gently, easing his son’s head into his lap. “You’re going to be just fine, son.”
Wyatt looked up at Julia, as though asking if he was lying to his little boy. Julia gave him a curt nod and said, “That’s right. You’ll be just fine. But I need you to be brave and wait here with your father for just a moment. We need to set your leg before it gets worse, and I need a few things in order to do that.”
John sniffled, looking as though he was ready to burst into tears once more, but his father was near and it lent him the courage to nod.
Wyatt’s gaze locked with Julia’s for a moment and she saw the worry there, the tenderness and the love for his son. “Hurry,” was all he said to her.
Julia wasted no time. She hurried back to the house to grab what she needed: several lengths of clean linen, two long, but thin boards that were sturdy, and a piece of chocolate. There was nothing she could do for the pain, but at least she could boost his sugar levels. Within minutes, Julia had returned, arms full of supplies. John was looking pale, his pain mitigated by his father’s presence, but Julia knew that wouldn’t do much for him.
“Alright, John, I’m going to need you to be a brave boy,” she told him in her sweetest voice. “I know this hurts terribly, but you’re so strong and we’re going to do our best to make this better, okay?”
John nodded his head; he didn’t look excited for whatever Julia was about to do.
Placing her materials to the side, she laid out the solid boards next to John’s leg, making sure that they wouldn’t be too long to use. They were longer than his calf, stretching past his knee, which was good; he wouldn’t be able to bend his leg. She had them ready, knowing that she was going to have to move quickly once she started.
“What are you going to do?” Wyatt asked. His voice was calm as was his expression, but Julia was starting to learn about Wyatt. Although he could keep his tone and his muscles cool and unaffected, his eyes were indeed the window to his soul. They spoke volumes while the rest of him was all but silent. The result left him with a tell only those who took the time to stare into his eyes would see. People like Julia.
Julia remained chipper as she answered Wyatt, trying to keep John calm; she knew he wouldn’t appreciate what was to come next. “I’m going to straighten this out and set it so that he heals right as rain.”
Wyatt paled ever so slightly and the corners of his eyes tightened, letting Julia know that he understood what she was preparing to do. The fact that he made no protest or movement to stop her told her that he was willing to trust her enough to do this.
Smiling down at John, Julia told him, “On the count of three.”
He nodded as his father gripped him tightly, holding him down in preparation for what was to come next. “Okay,” said John.
But Julia only got to one when she gripped little John’s ankle and jerked his leg outward. The little boy cried out in agony at the pain of it, but surprise had dulled the sensation slightly. He stared at her, wide eyed and disbelieving. “You said three!” he cried out, but his voice wasn’t strong and he was so pale. Before Julia even had the chance to answer him, he fainted in his father’s arms.
Julia was relieved; it would give her the chance to set the leg without causing him additional pain. She worked in silence and wrapped it up quickly. When she’d tied the wrappings around his leg and the boards, holding it in place, Wyatt finally lifted him up in his arms and together they went back to the house. Neither of them said anything until Wyatt had tucked his son into bed and they were both back downstairs.
Julia was shaking with nervous energy, feeling the danger of what had just happened and hoped with all her heart that John would be fine. He had to be fine. Needing to do something, Julia returned to the kitchen and began to clean up the mess she’d made when she dropped the lunch she had been preparing earlier. Wyatt had followed her to the kitchen and for a long moment stood in the doorway, silently watching.
“He’ll be on the mend for at least eight weeks; maybe longer,” Julia began speaking to him, but never looked up from what she was doing. “You should give him the chocolate when he wakes; the sugar will help. He’s a good boy and very strong. I think he’s too determined to let this keep him down for long. It’s good news for the healing, but it means we shall have to keep a close eye on him, lest he wanders about and further damages that leg. Right now, what he needs is—”
Wyatt stopped her by taking the broken pieces of the plate from her hand and setting them on the counter. Before she could say anything more, he gathered her up into his arms and held her. Whispering into her hair, he said, “Thank you. You’ve saved my son. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
Julia’s body warmed at his touch and she blushed. They were married and there was nothing wrong with such innocent touches as these, but she was so unaccustomed to them… and she had all but given up hope o
f ever experiencing them with Wyatt.
Biting her lip, she managed to answer, “He’s my son, too, now, isn’t he?”
Wyatt pulled away from her so that he could look her in the eyes, but his hands remained firmly on her shoulders. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips. It was a quiet, small smile, only noticeable because Julia had spent so much time watching how he frowned with those sweet lips. One of his hands lifted from her shoulder to push aside a strand of hair that had come loose from the high bun she had tied her golden curls into. He tucked it behind her ear, his finger caressing along her cheek at the same time.
“I never thought it was possible,” he murmured quietly, staring at her as though he was in awe of her very presence. “I had loved my first wife so very much and I thought…” He shook his head. “I thought that it would be betrayal, a slight against her memory to ever feel in my heart again what I had felt for her.” He placed a hand on his chest over where his heart would be. “But, Julia, I have lived with you for only a month, and you have wormed your way inside this old heart. It was your love for a boy who does not share your blood that proved to me that you are too good of a woman to lose.”
Julia stared at him with wide eyes, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. The things he was saying to her she had believed were impossible. Her own heart had opened to him so quickly, but she had resigned herself to the realization that he would never feel the same. And now she dared to hope.
“What are you saying, Wyatt?” It was the first time she had spoken his first name aloud, and it settled sweetly on her tongue.
His eyes sparkled and his smile widened just a little bit. “I am saying that I have taken you already as my wife. Now, I am asking you to be my love.”
Tears pricked at Julia’s eyes and she could find no words to describe how she felt, so she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His arms held her back and he promised her that he would take care of her for as long as she would have him.
It still took eight weeks for John’s leg to heal and he was bedridden for all of them, but Julia entertained him with bright stories and his father brought all sorts of plants for him to squish between the pages of blank books. They grew together, leaning on each other for support, and by the end of it all, they were truly a happy family.
THE END
Mail Order Bride Laura
Story Description
New Haven, Connecticut – 1865
The Civil War has just ended, and as the men return home and reclaim their jobs, Laura Masterson has found herself unemployed–and worse, forever without the man she had loved with all her heart.
Laura’s loneliness is compounded by the fact that the three friends she relied on the most to hold her up through these dark times have already left New Haven to find love out on the frontier. The four young women had agreed to go out west in search of love and adventure as mail order brides, but Laura has yet to leave.
She is torn, because she has received letters suggesting that these men might not be all they claim to be. She also worries that she will never find a man who can replace her beloved Elias, so she begins to correspond with a rancher who seeks a marriage of convenience.
When she outstays her welcome in her sister’s home, she realizes that she cannot delay her journey any longer, and Laura must accept that her life is about to change drastically. She can only hope that it is for the better.
“Well, I suppose it is just me now,” Laura Masterson murmured softly in the quiet room where she liked so often to work. She was doing her needle point now, though the letters that sat on her desk were trying hard to steal her attention. She pointedly ignored them and tried to remind herself that she had agreed to this, but it was still her choice.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, the sound echoing in her mind as she tried to focus on her needle point. It was something to do with her hands, something to occupy her time, but Laura had gotten so good at it over the years that it hardly counted as a distraction anymore—and Laura craved that more than anything else.
Esther came into the room, her big belly taking up more space than anything else, Laura felt.
“Are you still sitting here?” Esther asked, going to the window where the drapes were still drawn closed. She jerked them open to let some of the light of day through. It was a good idea, Laura supposed, but the weather outside was rather awful so it made little difference to the light in the room. Rain poured down and Laura thought it would be a long time still before it let up.
“You say it as though I have always been sitting here,” Laura said coolly to her sister, keeping her eyes focused on her needlework.
Laura loved Esther. Esther was her older sister, married to a good enough man, Laura supposed, and was very much pregnant. It made Esther happy and there was no doubt that she was a good way in love, if not passionately so. All of that was good and well for Esther, but it left a bitter streak in poor Laura. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for her sister or wasn’t happy for her, but sometimes those who have lost heavily have a hard time embracing those who still have. Laura wanted what was best for Esther, unquestionably, but she didn’t know why her sister deserved it and she did not.
Was fate so cruel, or had she done something terrible to warrant it?
“You might as well be,” Esther answered, standing in front of the now opened curtains and whirling around to face her younger sister. She had her hand over her belly, caressing it lovingly. She adored that child already and it hadn’t even made it out of the womb yet. “I think, aside from meals, I don’t see you out of it.”
“That’s because you are not always there to see the things I do,” Laura answered simply. “I am busy with other things; you are busy with other things.”
Sighing, Esther remained silent for a moment, then turned to her sister. “May I ask what it is that has changed you so?”
Laura paused in her needlework, but did not look up to see her sister’s face. She didn’t want to talk about this with anyone—especially not her sister. Father hadn’t approved and neither would Esther, but that hadn’t changed what had been in her heart. The love there would have spanned decades; centuries even. She would have loved him forever and—
“Whatever do you mean?” Laura asked in a small, cool voice, returning to her work. She didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to think about anything at all if she could help it.
Her eyes involuntarily darted over to the writing desk where the letters were stacked neatly, only one sitting there still opened. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to reply yet, but she would have to soon. It was time. She had lingered and postponed long enough. What was she waiting for?
Esther’s hands went to her hips as she made a face at her younger sister. “Oh, don’t you play coy with me! You know exactly what I’m talking about!” She gestured to the room where, in all honesty, Laura had begun spending an awful lot of time in. She did needlework and sewing and occasionally other projects as necessary. “You were better when you were working for that dreadful arms company!”
Esther was talking about the New Haven Arms Company, a prestigious business that had thrived during the war between the North and the South. As the men went off to fight for their freedom, the women who lingered were left to take up the slack in the workforce at their departure. At first, Laura was hardly interested in the prospect. Work was important to her, of course, and she had a job as a seamstress for a while. They made coats for soldiers, though normally they worked on dresses and other fashionable things, but the war had changed a lot of things. People were putting their best feet forward and when her friend Delia had suggested that she was going to work putting guns of all things together, Laura had initially laughed at her.
That was a man’s work, she had chided her dear friend. But Delia was the type of woman too determined to let things go. If there were more obstacles in her way, it seemed she was all the more interested in the game of it all. She wanted to rush forward into the wild and
battle with conventions as though they were real people to be cut down. It might have been comical, but Delia was so fiery that it was hard not to admire her spirit at least.
Not that that was the only thing to admire. Delia was a lovely young woman. She was a blonde woman with porcelain skin and warm blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She was everything a man looked for in a woman and she had money additionally to help her overall impression. She didn’t need the arms company, not like the rest of them did. Poor Eleanor didn’t have much going for her, and Catherine was so childish that it was more of a means towards proving she was grown than anything else. And Laura, well, she was living with her sister and her brother-in-law. They were expecting a child. It was important for her to contribute in some small way to the household.
But that wasn’t why she did it.
She did it for Elias.
Elias Smith was the most handsome man Laura had ever met. He was charming in ways that most young men were not. Not because he was overly educated or came from a well to do family, but because he had such bright eyes and important plans and dreams. He had a heart that could fill a room with possibilities and hope.
They were in love.
And then he left her. Elias didn’t leave because of Laura, though; when she asked him, he said it was for her. He left to join the Union soldiers to fight against the South. Before they had parted, he promised that he would write her often. He promised that when he returned, they would be married. He would save what money he earned from working as a soldier and they would have a nice little wedding. Maybe it wouldn’t be grand or overly impressive, but it would be sweet and they would both be there, making it perfect.
But he never came home.
Laura’s heart ached with the memory of him and all of their plans together. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks and she worked hard to withhold them. She had never told Esther of Elias and she had no intention of doing so now that he was gone. She had worked diligently at the New Havens Arm Company in an effort to do whatever she could to help the war effort, but when he died, she stayed only because she could not be left alone with her heartache. The women she worked with—Delia, Catherine and Eleanor, three wonderful women with bright hopes and dreams—had been more comforting than anything else, and they, more than anything, kept her at the company.
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 74
