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

by Charity Phillips

  ****

  Dear Diary,

  I will never be able to express the wonders and joys of life, or the breathtaking blessings that I have been given. Just two years ago, I never could have imagined the life that God would give me here in California, and now I feel like I may wake up at any moment. Even if I did, I think I would be happy simply because I would have had the most beautiful dream anyone has ever had.

  Despite her arrival a week or two before I expected her, my sweet little girl is absolutely perfect. We decided to name her Haywood after the town that will always be in our hearts as the place where we met, where we fell in love, and where we began our lives together. She is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen, and already the apple of her Papa's eye. Ben is so completely in love and it fills my heart to see them together.

  Our precious Haywood is only one of the miracles that has come our way in the past few weeks. My father told me just last night that my family is staying here in California for good. He has already written to a neighbor in Tennessee asking that he handle packing the rest of their belongings and selling the house and the furniture. He will have the trunks brought here by boat. It will take nearly a year, but it is better than him having to travel back and forth again. I think he has had his fill of the wagon trains.

  I am thrilled beyond words that I will have my family close to me and that Haywood will know her grandparents, aunts, and uncle. I have not said anything to her yet, but I have seen Carrie and Andrew, who has become a dear friend along with James, making eyes at one another. I would not be surprised if there is another wedding to celebrate in a few years' time.

  Ben has not returned to mining since Haywood's birth. He finally showed me the projects that he has been working on in his shed and they turned out to be the most precious cradle and tiny hope chest I have ever seen. He now says that the path the Lord has created for him will be to make things with his hands.

  After much prayer, we decided to live off of our savings for a few months while he makes enough items to put up for sale. Papa and Mama have agreed to help start a shop with him, and Papa seems excited at the prospect of a job that does not involve mining again. He would much rather do something constructive and get to see the happiness on people's faces when they use something that he made. They will make such an amazing team together, and I will get to have the two most important men in my life with me all the time.

  It was more than five years ago now that Papa decided to take our family to California in search of gold to pay for a surgery that would change Carrie’s life forever. Who could have imagined that after all of the success that he found—and then the success of my husband following in his footsteps—that the greatest treasure any of us would find would not be the gold sparkling in the creek bed, but the new life we would discover here together.

  Elizabeth

  THE END

  Preview of Mail Order Bride Carrie, Book 1 of the Stewart House Brides Series by Charity Phillips

  Wallace, Kansas – 1890

  Chapter 1

  Carrie Nelson clutched the newspaper advertisement in her hands as she stepped off the train in Kansas. She’d come all the way from Dublin, Ohio which was a tiny town in the middle of practically nowhere in order to marry a gentleman who owned a large, prosperous ranch in California. Her train stopped in Kansas and Carrie was to continue on as soon as her connecting train arrived, but she was beginning to have cold feet. On the train, a gentleman in a handsome suit had handed her a newsprint flyer, advertising a job opportunity right there in Wallace. She gazed out at the small, dusty town that was in view from the station and gave a sigh. Then she looked back down at the flyer in her gloved hands.

  Stewart’s House seeks young ladies to work as waiter girls in Wallace, Kansas! All ladies must be between 18 and 30 years of age, charming, smart, pretty, and possessing good virtue. Come and be interviewed. We’d be delighted to have you!

  Carrie flapped the small bit of paper in the air in front of her a bit, scanning the surroundings again as she fanned herself. She had no good reason to stay in this place. She’d made a promise to Mr. Jacobs. The rancher had seemed like such a sweetheart on paper, too… But California was so very far away. This town had one thing going for it that she doubted very much that California could boast: Wallace reminded her of home.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Carrie asked a passing conductor on the platform. She kept her large, cloth suitcase at her feet, hesitant to pick it up until she knew which way she was going. “Can you tell me where an eatery called Stewart’s House is?”

  The conductor looked at her a bit blankly and Carrie started to wonder if the establishment had even been opened yet. It would be difficult indeed for her to try and make roots in a town where her reason for staying didn’t even exist yet. After a few moments of curiously glancing around, the conductor pulled aside another railway worker, in a similar blue and gray uniform, and they conferred with each other while Carrie looked on, feeling more and more like this perhaps wasn’t the best idea.

  Suddenly, the other train operator turned to her with a broad, friendly smile. “The Stewart place is yonder that way,” he said, pointing to the left and diagonally. Carrie looked in the direction he indicated and felt butterflies emerge in her stomach.

  Is it reasonable to walk there? she thought in her head, but she didn’t dare to even ask it. Of course, a lady didn’t walk unchaperoned to places in a town that were new to her!

  “Thank you, sir,” she said politely instead, giving him a cordial nod. “And, um, where might I locate a coach?”

  The train worker continued to smile warmly at her, unperturbed by her nervous questions. He’d worked around enough city slickers to know how to handle the oddest questions. “I’ll take you to where the coach driver’s sit,” he told her.

  He led her along, carrying her suitcase so she didn’t have to bear the burden of it as she walked. Carrie still held fast to the newspaper flyer, as if it was a golden ticket that would help her find what she needed.

  “Here y’are, ma’am,” the railway worker said to her once they’d reached the front of the train station. He gestured an arm towards the group of carriages that were parked along the curb there.

  Carrie gave a small curtsy in thanks to the gentleman, who then proceeded to wave over one of the coach drivers.

  He was a good-natured looking man with very slightly graying brown hair and a beard. He took one look at her as he approached and let out a whooping laugh. “You’re wanting to go to Stewart’s place?”

  She reddened. How had he guessed? “Indeed, sir,” she said. “Do you often meet girls who are looking for that place?”

  The man nodded. “Sure do. Here at the station, anyway. I’ll take you there.” At once, he picked up her hefty suitcase and loaded it into the back of his sleek, black coach. As he worked, Carrie noticed that there actually weren’t that many carriages waiting there. Perhaps five were waiting for riders. This was just another indication to her that the town of Wallace wasn’t much bigger than her beloved Ohio town. The transition to living here wouldn’t be difficult. Provided this Mr. Stewart wanted her to stay and work for him, of course.

  Once he was finished loading the coach, the driver kindly assisted her into the back seat. It was rickety as he drove, and she wondered how often people in Wallace utilized the coaches to get around. As they rode into the main area of the town, Carrie could see that there weren’t that many homes. There were a fair amount of businesses, however. She spied a blacksmith’s, a general store, a bank, a saloon, and a butcher as she rode past all of them. The carriage parked at last in front of a squat little building beside the butcher’s shop.

  There was a large sign made up of wooden letters, individually carved. Stewart’s House. Carrie noticed that it, as well as the startling majority of the buildings in this town, was a light brownish color. The color of the dirt outside of it, nearly. She’d never really appreciated the green in Ohio when she lived there, but she really did
now.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said to the coach driver as he helped her down from the back seat. She offered him a smile, feeling fatigued from her travels and yet determined to see this job interview through.

  The driver gathered her suitcase from the back. “No problem at all, Miss.” He carried her luggage up to the front of the building before placing it at her feet.

  Carrie reached into her small purse and produced a few coins for his troubles and his great assistance. He refused to take them from her, shaking his head.

  “I wouldn’t think of it, Miss,” he replied. “You keep your money and I hope it’s useful for you. Good luck with the new position.” He nodded up towards the sign above them. Then, with a slight shrug, he left her there to sort out her affairs.

  Carrie wondered if she would see him again. He seemed to be no stranger to this eatery’s business. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the front door and waited. After only but a moment, the door opened and she was greeted by a young lady in a long, black dress and a white apron, tied at the waist.

  This woman didn’t appear to be much younger than Carrie’s twenty-six years, but she wore a large, white bow in her hair which made her look a good deal younger than she otherwise would have. When she smiled at Carrie, her cheeks dimpled which only added to the near childlike look. She was otherwise a beautiful young woman, despite the slightly strict, uniformed outfit.

  “Welcome to Stewart’s House,” she said to Carrie gaily. “You must be here to apply?”

  Carrie nodded. “Yes,” she said back. “Thank goodness I’ve found the right place.”

  The other woman reached down and picked up the suitcase as if it were nothing. “Please come inside,” she said, ushering Carrie into the place. “You’re in luck because it’s after lunch now. We’re not as busy at this time of day.”

  She hustled with the suitcase into the eatery, followed by a bewildered Carrie. The space had a shiny wooden floor and several round wood tables upon it. The tables were all covered in red-checkered cloths. There was a bar along the left-hand side of the large space, which had stools sitting up against it for diners to sit upon as well. Carrie guessed that this eatery could easily house a good one hundred people or so. She was impressed.

  A couple was sitting at one of the tables, lost in conversation, and there was an older gentleman sitting at the bar. A few young ladies, dressed the same as Carrie’s hostess, milled about the floor of the place, attending to the customers or cleaning.

  “If you’ll wait here a few moments,” Carrie’s hostess said to her brightly, scooting the suitcase under one of the tables and offering a chair there to her, “Mr. Stewart will be right in to meet you.”

  Carrie felt a lump form in her throat. She nodded and obediently sat. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but she didn’t think she’d be interviewed so quickly, nor did she think the owner himself would be interviewing her!

  The lovely hostess resumed her work in the eatery, greeting potential customers at the front door and helping to clean and organize things. Carrie idly watched her, wondering how difficult it would be to work in a place like this. As the woman had said, this wasn’t a busy time of day, so it wasn’t exactly the best representation of the position, she surmised.

  What if I don’t suit his qualifications, though, somehow? she thought. She’d taken to fidgeting with the flyer she’d been given on the train once more. She knew, too, as she sat there that she was going to have to write to Mr. Jacobs in California and apologize profusely for not continuing on like she was supposed to. She knew that she should’ve been more decisive about things before going on her journey west, but maybe the journey itself had inspired such new thoughts and desires within her?

  The advertisement that’d been placed into her hands certainly hadn’t helped in the matter. She’d been hoping for an out or some kind of an excuse. This seemed to be just what she’d wished for.

  Chapter 2

  Carrie didn’t have long to wait there at the table with only her thoughts keeping her company. A door opened on the left wall of the great room, near the bar, and as promised a gentleman walked out towards her. He smiled a friendly, reassuring sort of smile. He was wearing a fine black suit with deep red accents including a red tie and a red pocket handkerchief. A long, gold chain hung from the front pocket of his suit jacket and he reached in and produced a pocket watch right as she was beginning to wonder what the chain was for.

  He was checking the time for their interview.

  Then, his attention restored, he came to Carrie’s table and bowed low, offering a hand to her. “Thank you for waiting,” he said in a clear, confident, and warm voice. “I am Mr. George Stewart, the proprietor of this eating house. Welcome. And what is your name?”

  Carrie looked upon him, somewhat surprised to find that the owner of the eatery was nowhere near as old as she’d imagined. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was clean-cut and clear-eyed, obviously as enthusiastic about starting his own business as she was about finding work for herself there.

  “It’s an honor to meet with you, sir,” she said to him, placing her hand into his and shaking with him. I feel as though I am a professional already! she thought, a fire lighting up within her. “My name is Carrie Nelson. I’m from Dublin, Ohio. You probably haven’t heard of it. Nearly, no one has.”

  Mr. Stewart laughed softly. “May I sit, Miss Nelson?” He gestured to the empty chair directly across the table from her.

  Carrie nodded. “Certainly, sir. It would be awfully rude of me to keep you standing.”

  Mr. Stewart sat. He never took his eyes off of her. She blushed a bit, knowing that he was judging her appearance. The job advertisement made it clear that he would care about how she looked, at least a little. Carrie had curly blonde hair that she wore up in a loose bun on the back of her head. Normally, it was a bit more kempt than it was at the moment. Right now, there were some loose tendrils hanging by her ears, framing her face. As she thought about them, she hoped that they made her look pretty and not road-weary. Her eyes were big and China blue, and there was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her upper cheeks which made it almost look like someone had sprinkled her with cinnamon.

  “How old are you, Miss Nelson of Dublin, Ohio?” Mr. Stewart asked.

  She noticed with some surprise that he wasn’t writing any of this down. I hope this means he has a terrific memory, not that I’ve already been disqualified. “I’m twenty-six years old,” she answered.

  Mr. Stewart nodded and smiled another handsome smile at her. “And you aren’t married?”

  Carrie nodded. “No, sir. I was coming west to meet a husband when I was handed an advertisement for your eatery on the train. It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.” She offered him a smile.

  Mr. Stewart wasn’t a man who was going to be so easily convinced. She could see that. “Do you have any suitors back home? Anyone who might come along and steal you away from work?”

  Carrie batted her long lashes at him. Even her lashes were a honeysuckle color. Her smooth skin was like porcelain and her lashes hardly showed against it, except in times when she was blushing bashfully. This was one of those times.

  “No, sir,” she answered. “No suitors.”

  This seemed to please Mr. Stewart. He leaned back in chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Have you ever worked before?”

  She nodded readily. “Yes, sir. I’ve worked on my family’s small farm. I know how to cook and clean, and how to tend to animals and children.”

  Mr. Stewart scratched at his chin. “You will stay in the neighboring house we have set up to be the waiter-girls’ dormitory. You will be supervised by the lead waiter-girl, Rita. You will be paid eighteen dollars and fifty cents a month, plus room and board. You will be required to wear a uniform like the ones you see Rita and the girls wearing.” He gestured with a sweeping motion around the dining room. There was another girl in black dress and white apron
nearby, tending to the needs of the couple at the table on the opposite side of the room. The other girl, she assumed, was the one called Rita. “Does this suit you?” Mr. Stewart asked, bringing Carrie back to the situation at hand.

  Blinking, she thought it over quickly. “It sounds like more than I ever could’ve asked for,” she said.

  “You will be contracted for one year, in which you must devote yourself to working in this eating house. You mustn’t marry in that time, and you mustn’t wear makeup or any such thing that might sully the fine reputation of this establishment. The aim is to provide orderly, friendly help to patrons when they stop in. They are hungry, tired, and they are looking for a kind, pleasant face. Do you understand?”

  Carrie nodded again. “Oh, yes sir. I never wear makeup anyway.” The job sounded like it would be somewhat strict, but it was the sort of strictness that she believed would be good for her. “Really, sir, I could use some order in my life.” She smiled shyly again.

  He smiled back at her. “Splendid.” He stood up from his chair at that and offered his hand to her again, which she took. They shook once more, and then Mr. Stewart turned and headed back to the door by the bar. She realized that that must surely be where his office was located.

  Not long after the boss of the establishment departed Carrie’s table, the girl called Rita reappeared. She smiled another of her dimpled, welcoming smiles. “Come along with me now,” she said. “I will show you to your room in the dormitory. We’ll need to take some measurements, too. For your uniform.”

  “Golly,” Carrie said, standing from her chair and grinning excitedly as she followed Rita out of the place. “This all seems too good to be true!”

  Of course, there were still a few things that she would need to attend to. She’d have to send a letter along to Mr. Jacobs, and she’d also need to inform her family what had transpired. But she could wait to do such things once she was alone.