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

by Charity Phillips

  But eventually the war ended and the men returned; the women’s part was over.

  “Yes, well, that’s because I had a job and I had to go out and do things. I had responsibilities.”

  “And is there a reason that you can’t do that again?” Esther asked pointedly.

  It said a lot that Esther was encouraging her to go out and get another job. It wasn’t that her sister was disapproving of working per se; she appreciated the additional income. But Esther wanted other things for her little sister. Things like a husband and a family; things that Esther herself valued. Not so long ago, Laura would have agreed to this desire. She had dreams once, too. But those dreams centered on Elias and the family they would make together, not with some other man who Laura knew she would never love.

  Her eyes darted over to the letters once more; they needed a response.

  “Are we hurting badly for money?” Laura asked quietly with a small frown and the pulling of her eyebrows.

  Esther fidgeted with her hands and began to pace. A quick, nervous smile made its way onto her lips. “What? No, no. Of course not. Don’t be silly. We’re fine.”

  Laura knew immediately that her sister was lying; it was the level of her shoulders and the stiffness in her smile. She was worried; it was written across her face. “Estie, what’s wrong?” Laura asked going over to stand with her sister, forcing her to stop pacing by placing her hands on either of her sister’s wider shoulders.

  At the use of the nickname from their childhood, Esther broke down. Her shoulders slumped and she looked away as she explained the truth to her dear sister.

  “We’re all right,” Esther told her quietly, but she sounded miserable as she spoke, her tone at odds with her words. “But things are getting tight. And with the baby, oh, Andrew is so worried! We’ve been trying to scrimp and to save, but he’s been complaining lately.”

  Esther didn’t elaborate on just what it was that Laura’s brother-in-law was complaining about, but she didn’t have to; Laura could guess—it was her. For a moment, she felt anger quicken in her heart. How dare he complain of Laura! Hadn’t Laura contributed nearly half her wages from the Arms Company to the household income? Hadn’t she taken care of much of the cooking and the cleaning whenever possible? Hadn’t she mended clothing and shoes and linens, because they couldn’t afford to buy new ones? Hadn’t she put in enough effort to warrant her being allowed to stay here with as much right as they had?

  But then the anger burned up, potent and fierce, but quick as a gunshot. Laura knew that her sister cared for her; it was unquestionable. She knew that Andrew tolerated her, even if they were not necessarily always on good terms. And she knew that if he was complaining of Laura’s presence here in his home, then it was because things really were tight. He wouldn’t care regardless if they were doing well, but she understood that his immediate family always came first. She also understood that whatever her relationship was to his wife, Laura was not in his immediate family.

  And Laura understood something else, too: she wasn’t working just then. After being let go from the New Haven Arms Company, she hadn’t found another employer. It wasn’t that she couldn’t; Laura was a quick enough learner and a hard worker. The problem was that Laura simply couldn’t bring herself to care these days. She couldn’t make herself desire to work or contribute or to do much of anything. After Elias passed, she had lost a part of herself and feared that she might never get it back.

  It was better when her friends were here still. Delia Hennessey was much too tough to allow Laura to just sit around and wallow. Catherine Stuart was too much of a dreamer to let Laura sink into nightmares instead. And Eleanor James was too good to let her be alone with her own grief. They were her three closest friends and they had given her hope where Laura had felt there might be none left in the world.

  But that was over. They had left her alone here in New Haven; left for bigger, better things. They were all, in some way or another, dreamers and Delia had convinced them all to make a pact to search out those dreams. Of course, her idea was to marry strange men from out West, but she argued that at least it was a means to an end: it would get them out of New Haven. Laura had agreed to the pact, too, though she doubted she would venture out into the world and find love, no matter what stranger she found herself entangled with.

  The other women had left; Catherine had been the last. Sweet, sweet Catherine who seemed so excited and who Laura worried so heavily over. She was too sweet a thing to be hurt by a poor choice or a man that she just didn’t know enough about.

  Laura had told her to reconsider her choice to move out to marry a man in Nebraska, but Catherine had been too taken by his promises and the lavish lifestyle that he promised to extend to her. It weighed on Laura heavily; she hadn’t heard from her yet. Although it was hardly Laura’s responsibility to take care of Catherine, she thought that it was important to look out for the slightly younger woman. She should have told Catherine before she left that Delia had written.

  Dear Laura,

  Don’t fret, I’ve made it safely to Wyoming. The country out here is lovely and I am staying with a darling older couple who are so very much in love. They are chaperoning me until such time as I might be wed to Orville Peterson. He is a shrewd, ugly man. Not at all what I have anticipated. I feel as though I have been lied to! Oh, Laura, it is so awful! I’m to marry this man, but I feel as though maybe I shall never car for him. He is awful and demands that I cook and clean for him; his house is a pig sty. It looks nothing as he had promised it to be.

  Orville Peterson is a terrible man and I worry that I shall still have to marry him. Have I not committed to it? And what else might I do? I can’t return home, I simply can’t! Mother would never let me return home with my tail between my legs as such. She would chastise me and tell me that I have made my own bed and must now spend the rest of my days sleeping in it! Oh, how cruel she can be sometimes! I think she might enjoy my misery.

  Well, I will not let her see it! I am determined to make the most of this gruesome situation. I shall marry this little man and make him into a worthy husband if I must carve him out of flesh and bone and the wood from the trees out back! I will not give mother the satisfaction of knowing that I have failed.

  I would ask kindly of you not to share my truth with my family. It would be unbearable to know that they knew what a state I am in! I must ask that you not share this with the other girls, either. They are such dear friends and I do not want them to worry or feel concern for me—or to give up on their own sweet dreams. There is hope for them, even if I have since given up mine.

  So, please, do not share this with the other girls. My shame is my own. Perhaps it is yet salvageable, but I beg of you to leave that decision to mine own.

  Sincerely,

  Delia Hennessey

  Of all the young women had had made their pact to find a husband out West—through the newspaper of all things—Delia Hennessey had been the most eager. Determined for adventure, but also sure she had found the most wonderful, the most handsome, and richest of suitors. Now, she was miserable. Laura had itched to tell Catherine of the truth about the whole situation, but Delia had begged her not to. Due to her own loyalty to her friend—which perhaps, she felt, made her less loyal to Catherine—she could not tell the others. Not that it mattered; the only one left to leave was Catherine.

  And Laura herself.

  “Well, he needn’t complain anymore,” Laura told her sister softly, making her decision right there. “I have been waiting for the right moment to tell you, but I think now is that moment. It must be.”

  “Tell me what?” Esther asked, confused and hopeful. “Oh! Have you gotten a new job? That would be wonderful, Laura! I can tell Andrew tonight and it’ll solve all of our—”

  Laura shook her head, holding up her hand to halt her sister’s excitement. “No, Esther. It is not a job that I’ve found.”

  Esther’s excitement turned to a quick frown. “Then what is it?”
<
br />   Taking a steadying breath, Laura forced herself to remain calm even though her insides were a mixture of dread and apprehension. “I’m getting married, Esther. Within a week’s time.”

  Esther’s eyes went wide and this time, it was true excitement, not just relief. “Marriage? Oh, marriage! Who is he? Is it Markus from down in Haverly? Oh, no, I’ll bet you it’s—”

  Again, Laura was forced to stop her sister before she got herself too worked up. “No, you don’t know him. You couldn’t.”

  At this revelation, Esther frowned. “How could I not know him?” Narrowing her eyes at Laura, Esther’s expression shifted to one of disapproval. “Have you been courted without our knowing? That’s hardly appropriate! What kind of man is this?”

  “I have, in a way, been courted without your knowledge, but before you complain, you should know that the circumstances are a little different.”

  Laura spent the next hour explaining just how it was that Laura had “met” this suitor, this husband to be. She explained how he was a well-off man looking for a wife to help keep his home. Laura was careful to say only the best part of the arrangement, leaving out the mentions of how it was only for convenience. Of how he would likely never love her; of how Laura was certain that she could never love again.

  “What is his name?” Esther had tempered her excitement, uncertain if this responding to an ad was really the appropriate way to find a husband. But Laura had assured her that it was perfectly respectable. Women did this all the time.

  “His name is Kenneth. Kenneth Hall.”

  ****

  Glenrock, Wyoming, 1865

  Laura got off the train and stepped onto the platform. Steam billowed and a screeching filled the air, a notice that the train would once again be leaving soon. Maybe to California; did the train go that far now? Laura adjusted her long gloves with buttons along the edges. The pair had been a gift to her from Catherine after her trip to New York and it reminded her of the younger friend. She worried over her, but could only hope that things had worked out.

  There wasn’t any time to linger in New Haven anymore to await the arrival of letters. Laura had left a forwarding address and hoped that her sister might send any letters along to her, but couldn’t be sure. Her life was full of uncertainties now, but she was not afraid. This was what she had agreed to do, and more importantly, her sister could no longer support her. It was time for her life to progress as it must, even if she couldn’t find true and honest love.

  She had a small bag in addition to her luggage and inside of it were her letters. She hadn’t bothered to keep her initial exchange with Kenneth Hall; that was hardly important. Of course, she had kept the one with his name and description should she have the need to ask around and inquire of him. Instead, the letters were from Eleanor and Delia. Eleanor had written only to say that things were beautiful; her letter was very brief. But Delia’s letter was all but burning a hole through the satchel. Laura attempted to ignore the weight of it, but it was hard not to read the warning in it.

  He is a shrewd, ugly man.

  Laura told herself both that this would not be the case with her would-be husband and that it did not matter if it was. She and Kenneth Hall had exchanged just five letters and two of them were her initial inquiry and her final acceptance. Amongst those letters, she had come to an agreement with Mr. Hall: that their marriage was to be one of convenience.

  He seemed like a well enough man. From his penmanship, she garnered that he had been educated—at least with the basics—and had moved out west because he had nothing tying him to Delaware, from whence he originally came. He was simply interested in a woman who would be able to keep his house as he worked and toiled all day in the fields. He wasn’t looking for the kind of wife he’d have to take care of, he had said in his letters to her, but rather a woman who was interested in putting her head down and persevering. He couldn’t promise love, he told her, and if that was where she’d like this to eventually go, then she simply wasn’t the woman for him.

  It was the perfect arrangement in Laura’s eyes. She wasn’t open to finding love anymore; it had come and gone and broken her heart in the process. Now, she just wanted something to occupy what was left of her life until the inevitable time at which it might be over. Comfort was all well and good, she thought, but toil was better. Hard work was better at occupying the mind than comfort was. What would she do as a wealthy man’s wife? Sit around all day and be gay? Chit chat at tea time with other wives as they talked about the fashions of the day and the outrageousness and audacity of the New Woman? Or worse still, was she supposed to give birth to a child? A child that she might never bring herself to love for it would never be the one she had always hoped for?

  No, high society and comfort would not do Laura any good. She needed toil and Mr. Hall seemed able to provide that at least. He met her needs better than any of the other ads she had seen thus far. It was the reason she was in Wyoming.

  Delia is in Wyoming, Laura thought as she searched the train station. It would be difficult to spot Mr. Hall as he was unable to send her any sort of likeness. He’d described himself as having fair hair, green eyes and rough skin. He had a beard and promised he’d wear the best clothing he could, though he couldn’t promise beyond a coat and a button-down shirt. That sort of description might apply to half the men there.

  She’d have to trust him to find her, she resolved. Her trunk was shucked beside her, unloaded by a young man who was handsome, but still so boyish that Laura thought he might be too young to be around trains in the first place. She tipped him generously and asked, “Have you any knowledge of a Mr. Kenneth Hall?”

  The boy seemed surprised by the question, but took a moment to think it over. “Yes, ma’am, I think I do know a Mr. Hall. He comes around every so often into town for some supplies, though mostly in the fall. Otherwise he doesn’t have much need.”

  Relieved to learn that at the very least there was a Mr. Hall, as Laura had realized there was every possibility that there might not be and she’d been had, she pushed for more information. “Do you happen to know if he’s in town today?”

  The young man considered her for a moment, then lifted his shoulders. “Can’t say for sure one way or the other, but you’ll know him if you see him. He’s a hard one to miss.”

  Laura frowned at his answer, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, he’s got himself a long scar ‘cross his right cheek that starts just under his eye and goes down to his lip. All kinds of thoughts on how he got it, but a horse kicking in his teeth is the most likely of the bunch.”

  A scar. Laura wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it before, and then recalled Delia’s admission that her would-be husband was nothing like he claimed to be. It worried Laura only slightly; she wasn’t concerned with his appearance. Still, it was important for her purposes today. If she couldn’t find Mr. Hall, there was every possibility she would find herself in a lot more trouble than she should be.

  “A man with blonde hair and green eyes?” she verified with the young man, holding him from his duties just a moment longer.

  The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Bigger fella; not the kind I wanna fight with.”

  Laura thanked the young man and tipped him again, though he tried to refuse. She insisted, feeling that his delay and his help were worth the money. Finally, he accepted and thanked her profusely. He told her seriously that if she needed any help when she might be in town, that she ought to come and find him. She thanked him again and they parted ways.

  Laura stood with her trunk, scanning the crowd in search of Mr. Hall. He had to be around somewhere. After several long moments, she finally spied a man she was fairly certain was him—or at least, most definitely could be. He was a fairly tall man with very broad shoulders tucked into a worn, but clean brown coat that stopped somewhere near his knees. His shirt was probably once white, but now was tinged by dust and dirt, and his boots were scuffed. His hair was thick and a little curly,
the blonde coloring catching the light to make it look all the brighter. She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes from here, but she could see his beard and beneath it she thought she could see a slender scar that traveled down along his face.

  It had to be him.

  He seemed to have spotted her at the very same time she spotted him, because it looked as though he frowned until he finally nodded once in her direction and walked towards her. “Miss Masterson, I presume.”

  He offered his hand.

  Laura nodded and accepted his hand, shaking it firmly. “And I have to assume then that you are Mr. Kenneth Hall.”

  He nodded once. “Indeed. I’ll help you with your things and we can begin the journey home. It is, I’m afraid, a long one.”

  ****

  Laura wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Mr. Hall’s ranch was massive with plenty of grazing land for what looked to be a large herd of cattle and several horses in the barn towards the back. There was a large house that was two stories tall and must have had several additional rooms to it. Laura hadn’t even imagined that there might be something so impressive in this man’s possession.

  “This entire place is yours?” Laura couldn’t help but asking, her awe filtered through her voice.

  He nodded once and sounded almost modest as he replied, “Yes. I’ve been working at it for years now, so I’ve had plenty of time for it to grow.”