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

by Charity Phillips

  My older sister's face grew dark and I realized that I had gone too far. Simply because I was angry and sad did not mean that I should hurt her. Eleanor had forgone all that would have given her a normal life in order to make sure that my brother Harry and I lived comfortably and did not have to leave our home and live with our relatives. This included never marrying, and now that she was well past what most considered marriageable age, it seemed that she had given up her chance at a husband and a family for us.

  "You're right. I do not know what you are going through. I have never lost a man who loved me, and who I loved. I never had the opportunity to. But I have been through some very difficult things, and I kept going. I had to for you, and for Harry. Now you need to decide that you are going to keep going. Gregory would not want you to waste away to nothing when you have so much ahead of you."

  Eleanor stood up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me sitting alone at the table, pondering her words and wondering if there was anything else to strive for just beyond this dark path.

  ****

  I didn't speak to my sister for another three days. I don't know whether it was more that I was avoiding her because she had hurt me and I was feeling frustrated and angry with her, or that she was avoiding me because she couldn’t watch me go through the pain any longer. Whichever way it was, when we finally came together again, the tension between us was palpable.

  Part of me wanted to ignore her and maintain the icy silence that we had kept up for the last few days, but I knew that that wasn't right. Though I didn't let myself think of her often, it was moments like this that made me think of my mother and what she would have thought about our sisters' feud. I knew that it would hurt her and that she would want us to forgive one another and make amends.

  "I didn't mean to make you upset with me," Eleanor said, slowly stirring the pot on the stove.

  "I know," I responded, hoping that I could come up with something more to say to her, but finding myself at a complete loss for words.

  "What do you see for your future, Louisa?"

  I felt like if she had asked me that the last time we spoke that I would have gotten even angrier and more defensive, but now I was so worn down that I actually stopped to contemplate what she meant by the question. She wasn't just asking me what I was going to do for myself, but if I thought I was ever going to love anyone else now that I had lost Gregory.

  "I don't know. I don't even want to think about a future right now."

  "But you have to, Louisa. You have to think about what you are going to do tomorrow, next month, a year from now. That's the only way that you are going to get through this. Unless you focus on yourself and where you are going, you are not going to know which way you are to walk."

  "I don't even know what I'm going to do an hour from now, Eleanor. I feel like I am just facing too much. I can't bear this."

  "Of course you can. The Lord will never give you more challenges that you are able to handle. He gives you only what you will be able to persevere through. That doesn't mean that everything is always going to be easy. You have to push and try and be willing to put all of your trust and faith in the knowledge that there is a plan for you."

  "What type of plan could the Lord possibly have for me that would require me to lose the love of my life?"

  "I don't know, Louisa. I don't think that his plan for you was for Gregory to die, but that is the path that was made for him. You were simply caught up in the fray. Now you have to move past it."

  "I don't know how."

  I sat down at the table and Eleanor came to sit with me, offering me a cup of strong tea studded with mint leaves from the plants that she babied indoors throughout the winter. I took a long sip and looked up at my sister, noticing that she seemed to be staring very hard into her tea in the way that she did when she was going through something in her mind that would be difficult for her to say.

  "I wanted to talk to you about something."

  "I thought we were already talking."

  "Louisa, I need you to be less difficult. I understand that you are going through a lot, but being sassy and mean to everyone around you is not going to do anybody any good."

  Her words stung, but I knew that she was right. I had spent the weeks since Gregory's death taking out my emotions on everyone else so that I didn’t turn all of the pain and anger in on myself.

  "I'm sorry. I'm listening."

  "I heard from Mark last week," she said, mentioning our father's cousin, "Jessica has been having a correspondence with a man in Montana."

  "A correspondence?"

  "She responded to an advertisement in the newspaper."

  "She wants to be a mail order bride?" I asked, trying to keep some of the horror out of my voice, but knowing that it was coming through.

  "There is no shame in finding a husband that way, Louisa. It is becoming more and more common, especially with the War taking most of the young men out of the cities and towns. There aren't enough eligible bachelors here for the young women to marry, and there aren't enough women in the West for the men to marry. It only makes sense to fulfill each other's need, and the easiest way to do that is through the mail."

  "Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

  "I have been considering doing the same thing, and I think that it is something that you should think about."

  ****

  January 1863

  Dear Diary,

  I am not even sure where to begin. My mind is still so tangled up that I do not know where to begin. Things have changed so much since the last time I wrote, but I do not know what any of the changes mean.

  I still feel so empty and heartbroken, but now I am also confused. I was more shocked than ever when Eleanor told me that she has been considering responding to one of the advertisements in the newspaper from the men in the Frontier looking for wives. I know that it sounds selfish and even shortsighted, but I never truly thought about her as wanting to find a husband. I knew that she had been sad over the years and sometimes thought about what it would be like to have married and created a family of her own, but she seemed so settled in her decision and in her lifestyle that it never occurred to me that she would want to change it.

  Now not only am I coping with the idea that she is thinking about seeking out a husband through the newspaper, but that she thinks that I should do the same thing. How could she possibly think that I would be ready to put Gregory so far behind me that I would marry someone else?

  At the same time, if she is planning on leaving home, is there any reason that I should stay behind? I do not know how to make this decision, Diary. I might not feel like I have a life in my future, but I know that I have years stretching ahead of me. I am beginning to think that Eleanor may be right in telling me that it is time I start thinking of what I am going to do with those years. If she is serious and decides to go through with this, would there really be any benefit to staying behind without her and Harry?

  I can only pray that I can make the right decision.

  Louisa

  ****

  "Tell me more about the men on the Frontier."

  I pulled my shawl closer around me and settled onto the front porch bench beside Eleanor. Despite the cold she insisted on doing her sewing in the sunlight because she said that it didn’t strain her eyes as much as when she tried to do it inside or with the light of a candle.

  "Are you considering it?"

  "I have been thinking for the last few days about what you said."

  "What did I say?"

  This is something that Eleanor had done since I was a small child. When she knew that I was struggling with a decision and came to her for guidance, she didn't ever tell me directly what she thought. Instead, she guided me to work through it on my own. Though it was frustrating and often led me to making the decision that she would not have recommended, I knew that it was her way of making me stronger.

  "You told me that I had to keep moving forward, and even though I can't imagine
living my life with anyone but Gregory, if you are considering leaving, it must be time for me to go, too."

  My voice cracked in my throat as I spoke, but I knew that I was making the right decision. I would carry Gregory and the time we had together with me always, but I was ready to leave behind the painful memories that kept me from getting back to living.

  Eleanor reached beside her and handed me a folded newspaper. She cupped a hand around my face and stroked my cheekbone. I could see in her eyes that she knew I was suffering and that she wasn't going to push me any further.

  "Have you already chosen someone?" I asked.

  Eleanor nodded.

  "I have written a response to one of the advertisements from last week's paper. I sent it the day after I told you. I didn't want to risk Mark and Jessica leaving before I had a chance to find someone."

  "Are you planning on traveling with them?"

  "The wagon trains do not allow single women to travel. The only option we have is to travel when they do. Mark will lead the wagon with Jessica and instead of riding with his father and sister, Jacob will lead our wagon."

  I nodded, suddenly feeling like the entire situation was becoming too real, too quickly. I had barely had a chance to get myself used to the idea that I was going to become a mail order bride. Now I knew that I would have to make my choice quickly so that I didn't miss it when my family left for the west.

  Perhaps it was better this way. If I didn't have too much time to think about it, then I wouldn't have the time to change my mind.

  ****

  Partner Wanted. Hostess and companion desired for professional man in Bannack, Montana. Quickly growing town has provided many opportunities for entertaining and creation of business connections. I hope to find a woman willing to step into the role of hostess for these capacities, and as my companion in quieter times. Please respond soon. I hope to make final arrangements quickly.

  I read through the advertisement once more just to make sure that I had read it properly, and gave a long sigh of resignation. This was the best of the advertisements that I had read and I decided that I would read no further. It seemed that this was a decision that I should have made with greater thought and consideration, but the truth was that I was merely looking for an advertisement that didn't make me cringe when I read it. It was not a romantic or hopeful thought, but I was neither hopeful about the relationship or in search of romance. I only needed to find someone who lived in the same area as the man who Eleanor had chosen, and who seemed tolerable.

  The advertisement sounded formal and stark compared to the others, many of which spoke of love and happiness. In truth, this was comforting. I didn't want to mislead a man who had dreams of finding a whimsical romance through his correspondence. It was far more acceptable to choose a man who needed a woman in his life for practical reasons and who seemed fully accepting of this form of partnership.

  Setting the newspaper aside, I took out a piece of paper and began to draft my response. I wasn't sure what I should say to him that would convince him that I would be an appropriate choice. Finally, I settled on approaching my response to him with the same level of formality and precision that he had written his advertisement.

  Dear Sir,

  I am interested in relocating to Montana and as you are seeking a woman to act as hostess within your home, I feel that we may be quite suited to fulfilling each other's purposes. I hope to travel as soon as possible, so would be amenable to making final arrangements as quickly as you would feel comfortable.

  Thank you,

  Louisa Rogers

  ****

  "Are you ready?"

  Eleanor stood at the front door to the house and looked in at me where I stood in the center of the parlor. The room, like the rest of the house, seemed empty and still. The few scattered pieces of furniture and belongings that we had sold along with the house rather than to individual buyers looked so small now that they were the only things in the home and rooms that had once seemed comfortable and welcoming now looked cavernous.

  Memories were washing over me as I stood there, coming to me in fragments so that they blended and stretched, overlapping until it was as though I was surrounded by the voices, sounds, smells, and even tastes of the past.

  As I looked into the corner, I could see the Christmas tree from when I was a child and hear the notes of carols filling the air around me. The empty space that once held my favorite chair was home to thoughts of a dozen books, their stories my refuge when I was ill or the weather too bad for me to go out of the house. When my eyes fell on the wide window that overlooked the street, I could see Gregory walking toward me, holding a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers that he would have gathered on his way. I could taste the tea or lemonade we would sip and the cookies we would eat in the parlor together. If I thought hard enough, I could see my mother smiling at me as she cradled Harry in her arms.

  "Louisa?"

  I took a final glance around the room, releasing the memories from my mind so that they could remain there always even as I carried their impression in my heart, and turned toward my sister.

  "Yes," I said, wiping the tear that had started its way down my cheek, "I'm ready."

  The May air was soft and warm against my skin as I walked out of my childhood home for the final time and closed the door behind me. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, finding comfort in the breeze that brushed across my face.

  The wagons sitting in front of the house looked strange and out of place. Mark sat on the front bench of one while Jacob helped Eleanor put a final trunk into the back of the other. I could hear Harry already sitting in the back, asking a series of questions about the trip that never seemed to pause even long enough for Jacob to answer.

  Not even glancing back over my shoulder, preferring to keep the moment that I already had in my heart as the final memory of my home, I walked over to the wagon and climbed in beside Harry. We had agreed that Mark, Jessica, and Eleanor would travel in one of the wagons while Jacob, Harry, and I traveled in the other. A friend that had already taken the long journey sent the advice that we should walk as much as possible, so I knew that I would spend plenty of time with Eleanor even if we were not traveling together in the same wagon.

  "Are you excited, Louisa?" Harry asked.

  I settled onto the floor and tucked my satchel beside me. I let out a breath and forced myself to smile at him.

  "I am," I responded, wondering if, in some painful way that meant I would soon be forced to think of more than the sadness that had haunted me for so long.

  ****

  June 1863

  Dear Diary,

  We have officially been on the trail for one month today. How can it be that we have been traveling for so long and yet I feel like we have barely moved? According to the records of the men who have been tracking our journey, we have traveled nearly 300 miles since we left. This sounds like such a truly astonishing amount, but I feel like we are not moving at all.

  When I am riding in the wagon, I look down and I see the wheels turning, pushing the ground back beneath them, and when I am walking, I look down at my feet and see them moving ahead. When I look around me, though, it is like we are simply moving in place, the ground disappearing beneath us like a continuous ribbon that just falls away rather than ever actually progressing us forward.

  Even though I feel like we really are not getting anywhere, I am grateful that this journey has not been as difficult as I anticipated it would be. There are challenges, of course, but it seems that everyone on the wagon train is more than happy to work together to make all of the tasks of the day easier.

  We wake early in the morning, often long before the sun has even risen. The women go to work starting the fires and making breakfast while the men take care of the animals and prepare for the day's journey. We are usually traveling very soon after first light and continue on until around midday. The women will frequently prepare extra food in the mornings and bring it along so that there
is no need to build a fire and cook at midday. Not only does it take up too much time, but it is simply too warm now to be sitting around a fire.

  After our midday dinner, we continue to travel until there is not enough light to guide our way, or the animals are too tired to keep going. Again we stop, start fires, and then, prepare supper. Can you understand why I feel as though we are not actually moving? It seems that I live the same day over and over again.

  Eleanor is taking to the trail so well, it is almost as though she is practicing for the husband who awaits her in Bannack. He has already proposed to her through a letter that arrived just shortly before the letter I received from Mr. Akron. Unlike Eleanor and her Anthony, of whom she speaks so fondly it is as if she has known him her entire life rather than having just exchanged a handful of letters with him over the course of the last few months, Mr. Akron and I have made no plans to marry.

  I know that the marriage is inevitable, but it gives me a sense of comfort that he did not ask me through the letter. He is very kind, at least he seemed so in his letters, and it puts me at ease that he would prefer to actually meet me prior to making formal marriage plans. I simply feel blessed that Eleanor and I were able to find men in the same town so that we can remain together.

  We still have several weeks of travel ahead of us. I hope that gives me time to get used to the thought of the new life that awaits me.

  Louisa

  ****

  As easy as the first month of the journey was, things got far more difficult as the weeks passed. The men began to worry that we had started too late in the year and if we encountered any delays we could be at risk of the grasses drying up, taking away our animals' food source before we made it to the end of our journey. They started increasing our speed and pushing us more miles every day.

  By the end of July some of the animals were so exhausted that they started dying right in the middle of the trail. When this happened, we would have to stop so that the men could rearrange the wagons and the belongings of the families to try to prevent further deaths. While they did this, others would butcher the dead oxen and we would preserve whatever parts of them that we could in salt to eat later. I was so thankful that none of our animals died. It would not only be so difficult to continue on with less of a team, but I didn't think I'd be able to stomach eating one of the animals that I had grown so familiar with over the months.