Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set

by Jillian Hart

  “Christina?” Annabelle’s cultured voice cut into her thoughts. “Do you need help getting up the steps?”

  “No. You’ve been so good to me. Thank you.”

  “It’s what friends do for one another.” Annabelle reassured her with a smile.

  She climbed into the shelter of the train, shivering from cold and shock, and stumbled to her seat. Her stomach twisted up with a hint of nausea. Fine, perhaps it was time to admit at least to herself that her arm may be broken after all.

  After Annabelle settled in next to the window, Christina collapsed beside her, grateful to close her eyes for a moment. She just had to hold on through the rest of the day’s journey, and surely her husband-to-be would help her.

  She tried to envision a caring man, gentle-voiced like her adoptive father had been, but her fears returned. She blinked hard, but the image of warts, a bald pate, a severe overbite and all that hair jumped into her mind’s eye and refused to leave.

  Lord, let Tom be as wonderful as his letter. Please. Prayer filled her heart, full of so many unspoken wishes for her life. She’d been wandering for so long, since her mother’s death. The hardship of her mother’s medical debts, the loss of her job and the economy had each been a blow.

  She was weary of sleeping in stalls and stables, in back doorways and abandoned buildings, working for day wages in hot kitchens, endless fields or drafty hotels. Nothing had worked out and although her faith was strong, she had to wonder why the Lord had put these hardships in her life. Maybe this chance with Tom was a better path, the good future God meant for her. She surely hoped so.

  All she really wanted for Christmas was a home, a place to belong.

  So why did the marshal’s face slip into her thoughts? Granite strength, chiseled cheekbones, steely jaw.

  * * *

  “Hello again, Miss Eberlee.” A familiar voice sounded next to her ear. “How’s that arm feeling?” Marshal Gable asked.

  “A tad tender.”

  “I told the conductor what happened, how you fell on the railroad’s property and convinced them they had an obligation for your care.”

  “Oh, I wish you hadn’t.” Pink crept across her face, making her even prettier, if that were possible.

  “I brought you a poultice. One of the cooks in the dining car whipped it up for me. Said it would help with the bruising.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Surprise flitted across her gentle features. “You went to too much trouble.”

  “Not at all, considering I failed at my professional duties,” he quipped.

  “You can’t fool me. You’re not responsible and you failed at nothing. You’re just being nice.”

  “Force of habit.”

  “That I believe.” She carefully pushed up her sleeve. “Tell me what a Montana marshal is doing on a train?”

  “I delivered a wanted man to the proper authorities in Chicago.”

  “And you’re on your way home?”

  “Yes, but wherever I am, my sworn duty is the same. To serve and protect.” Elijah leaned in to lay the warm, doubled-over cloth on her lean forearm. A terrible bruise discolored her ivory skin. His heart twisted painfully in sympathy—nothing more. No way a rough, tough lawman like him could be interested in a sweet dainty miss like her. No possible way. A combination like that only spelled trouble.

  “My, it feels so much better.” Her cornflower-blue gaze communicated her appreciation.

  Looking into her honest eyes made his heart tug strangely. It surprised him, considering he’d closed up his heart to softer feelings long ago. He ought to stand up, head back down the aisle to his seat three cars down and forget about this young lady with her heart-shaped face, rich brown curls and compelling eyes. But did he?

  No, he stayed where he was, blocking the aisle, kneeling beside her. “I broke my arm a few years back. I was riding on regular patrol with two other marshals. One was a trainee, a real greenhorn, and I figured I’d give him a few tips. So there I was instructing him on the proper demeanor of a Montana Range Rider and my horse startled. He reared, tossed me in the air like I was a sack of potatoes and wham, I hit the ground.”

  “Pride goeth before a fall?”

  “Something like that. I got up, dusted myself off and realized my hat brim was bent, I’d broken my arm and ripped out the back seam of my trousers. I was the laughingstock of the unit.” He chuckled, remembering the humiliation. “It took years to live down, especially the trouser seam. I had to ride all the way to Cedar Peak with my union suit showing. Did I mention it was winter? It was snowing, and I was mighty chilly.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “It’s the truth. God willing, I learned my lesson so that doesn’t happen again. But seeing as I’m a man and prone to mistakes, it’s anyone’s guess how long it will be before my dignity takes a fall again.”

  “I’m beginning to think you aren’t terribly good at your job, Marshal.” Humor put little sparkles in her eyes and curved her rosebud mouth into the most amazing smile he’d ever seen. Lovely was too mild a word to describe her and beautiful too common. Miss Christina Eberlee was extraordinary. She tilted her head to one side, studying him intently. “First you can’t catch the boy with my reticule and now you confess you can’t stay on your horse.”

  “I appreciate you not mentioning the torn seam. The guys still tease me every now and then. The broken arm mended and I bought a new hat, but my pride has never been the same.” His chuckle died away as a spark lit up his heart, giving light where there had only been darkness before.

  All because of her smile.

  “Miles City, next stop!” the conductor called from the end of the car.

  “Miles City,” Christina repeated, turning to her traveling companion and exchanging words he could not hear and didn’t try to.

  He couldn’t say why he felt the way he did, unable to look away, noticing every little thing about her. The elegant curve of her slender shoulder, the graceful column of her neck and the curl of her dark eyelashes against her cheek. The spark in his heart continued to burn like a newly lit candle in the void that had become his heart.

  He hadn’t felt anything like this since his fiancée died well over a dozen years ago.

  “Promise me you’ll write.” Christina’s dulcet voice reached him as the train slowed with a squeal of brakes.

  “Of course. Christina, we must stay friends.” The other woman spoke as the car jerked to a stop. “This is such a fine adventure we are both on. You must write and tell me what Tom is like.”

  “And you must tell me about Adam.” Christina stood and stepped out of the way so her friend could leave. “You’ve been a blessing to me on this trip, Annabelle. Know I’m praying for your marriage. May it be filled with great happiness.”

  “I’ll be praying for you, as well.” Annabelle squeezed Christina’s good hand before walking regally away, disappearing down the stairs.

  They were all alone now. His pulse galloped as he debated taking the empty seat next to her and continuing their conversation. Maybe he’d buy her lunch because she didn’t have the funds for a meal, what with her reticule gone. That felt like his fault, too.

  “I hope she gets every wonderful thing she deserves.” Christina slipped into her seat, taking care to readjust the poultice. With a flick of her gorgeous brown locks, she strained to look out the window, where the falling snow had ceased, giving way to gray skies. “Oh, look at those lovely children she gets to be a mother to. Like me, she’s a mail-order bride.”

  “A what?” His pulse screeched to a stop. He couldn’t have heard her right. “A mail-order bride?”

  “I’m on my way to meet my husband-to-be.” Christina blew out a shaky breath, sounding a little apprehensive, a little hopeful.

  “Is that right?” His voice sounded tinny, even to his own ears. “You’re getting married, huh?”

  “That’s why I’m on this train. I’m going home—to my new home. Someplace I belong and will nev
er have to leave.” Hope lit her up. “I’m hoping to marry on Christmas Eve day.”

  “Well, congratulations.” Disappointment hit like a blow. He swallowed hard. So, she was spoken for. “Best wishes.”

  “Thank you. It won’t be long and I’ll be meeting Tom for the first time.”

  “Tom.” The man had a name. He fought to ignore the squeeze of pain in his chest where the light dimmed, sputtering like a candle burning out. “I pray he’s a good husband to you. You deserve that.”

  “You’re a kind man, Elijah. I’m glad we had this chance to meet.”

  “The pleasure has truly been mine.” He tipped his hat, taking a step away. He didn’t tell her that for twelve long years his heart had been as cold as stone, as dark as a starless night.

  Until her.

  He spotted a man with a medical bag making his way down the aisle. “Here’s the doctor I asked the conductor to find. You take good care of yourself and that arm. Have a nice life now, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir—Elijah.” His name on her lips had never sounded so good. His heart lurched as he tipped his hat to her.

  So, that was that. He’d learned the hard way years ago that love was all about timing. Once again, he’d felt the right things at the wrong time. As he headed to his seat, leaving Christina behind, the wintry chill in the air burrowed deep into him and would not leave.

  Chapter Two

  Angel Falls. Chilly air burned Christina’s face as she stepped from the train onto the platform. Ice crunched beneath her shoes as she savored her first look at the town that was to become her home. Snow mantled the train station’s roof and clung to evergreen boughs. It frosted the rooflines of a street of shops and a few small shanties across the way. A gray sky stretched overhead from horizon to horizon and the shining peaks of the distant Rocky Mountains rose up to disappear into the low clouds.

  Home. The word filled her with possibilities. She gripped the red handle of her black satchel more tightly with her good hand, hardly aware of the hustle of folks climbing off the train behind her. She searched the small crowd for Tom’s face. Let him not be too hairy, she hoped. Her palms felt damp against the wool of her green mittens as she waited for her husband-to-be to step forward and claim her.

  This was what she’d prayed so hard for, day to day and from night to night. All around her, families reunited or said farewells, clinging to one another, sharing loving looks. Husbands and wives, mothers and sons, friends and sisters. Gentle wishes and cries of welcome or sad sounds of parting peppered the air around her. A lovely family crowded together, reunited, a mom flanked by two beautiful little girls while her husband kissed each daughter on the cheek. Tears stood in their eyes. Anyone could see the love that bound them. The happiness they felt when they were together.

  Please, let that be me one day. It was what she wished with all her heart.

  “Ma’am?” A country-looking man in a brown hide coat swept off his wide-brimmed hat. His brown hair was a little too long and mussed, and his abundant facial hair all but hid his mouth and a good deal of his collar.

  Maybe she could talk him into a trim, she thought optimistically, refusing to be disappointed. He looked less prosperous than she’d hoped with his threadbare trousers and patched boots, but his eyes were kind. That was a prayer come true. That was what mattered.

  “Tom?” she asked excitedly, suddenly so nervous her mouth felt numb. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  “Sorry, I ain’t Tom.” He put his hat back on, looking disappointed. “I’m Jed. Guess you ain’t Aida, either.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” She truly was. She watched as Jed continued down the length of the platform. Another woman stood at the far end, looking lonely. Christina wished she’d known there was another mail-order bride on the train. Her mind drifted to Annabelle. How were things going with her? Was Adam all she’d hoped for?

  “Excuse me, miss?” A very proper-looking man in a black suit approached her. A top hat hid most of his sleek, well-combed black hair. This couldn’t be Tom, since the man looked like a butler and not a farmer. “You wouldn’t happen to be Miss Louisa Bell?”

  “No, sorry.” She watched as the man moved on, searching out the only other lone female waiting on the platform.

  The rumble of the engine vibrated through the boards at her feet. The wind gusted, swirling her skirts around her ankles. She prayed no one could see the hole in her sock or the state of her well-mended shoes. She drew her brown coat more tightly around her, unsure what to do. There were no other single men on the platform. She’d been quite clear in her letter to Tom about the day and time she would be arriving. Perhaps something had held him up? Or, worse, perhaps the letter had been lost in transit?

  A little of her happiness leaked out with her next breath. A flake of snow struck her cheek, and she shivered. The hustle of the crowd had gone.

  “How’s the arm?” The rumble of a smoky baritone drew her attention. Marshal Elijah Gable tipped his hat to her. “Still just bruised?”

  “Yes, exactly, and feeling much better.” Not that she could move her fingers yet, but she was hopeful. “What are you doing loitering around the depot?”

  “Oh, keeping my eye out for crime or nefarious-looking ruffians.”

  “So a big part of your job is just standing around doing nothing?”

  “Something like that.” Little did she know he’d been watching over her. “I also help damsels in distress.”

  “If I see any, I’ll point them in your direction.” Blue flecks in her eyes glittered up at him.

  The stubborn light within him strengthened like an ember refusing to be put out. “This clearly isn’t my business, but your fiancé hasn’t shown up to claim you.”

  “He’s coming, I’m sure.” She glanced around the empty platform, maybe thinking she was hiding her anxiety. Behind them the train rumbled, like a giant beast ready to bolt. “Perhaps he got waylaid.”

  “Maybe.” Elijah couldn’t imagine anything that would cause him to leave Christina alone in a strange town and penniless. “Why don’t I help you get settled, so you’re not standing here all afternoon?”

  “Oh, no. Tom said he’d meet me here, and that’s right where I’ll be when he comes.” She motioned toward the cozy little station where lamplight shone through frosted windowpanes. “I will be warm and safe there, so go about your business. I see no damsels in distress here.”

  “That’s too bad. Just thought you might want some company.” Snowflakes drifted lazily on a gusting wind, harbingers of another storm coming. He planted a hand on his hat, holding it when a gust hit. “It might get cold waiting.”

  “I’m sure he won’t be much longer.” The dainty curve of her chin hiked up a notch. “Any number of things could have happened. A sick animal on his farm or a broken axle on the drive to town could have delayed him. There could have been an accident on one of the streets in town and he stopped to help. He’s a reliable man, my Tom. He’ll come.”

  “I’m sure. The thing is, the station closes between trains. There won’t be another one until morning.” As proof, the lamplight went out, leaving the small window in darkness. A tall, pole-skinny man opened the door and took out his keys to lock it behind him. “With the sun about to set, it might get cold waiting here.”

  “Yes, it might.” She bit her bottom lip, studying one of the benches tucked up against the side of the station house. “I’m sure Tom won’t be much longer.”

  Was she aware of the slight wobble in her voice, the one hinting that maybe she wasn’t so sure?

  This isn’t your business, he tried to tell himself. Being near to her like this would only make him hurt more, because as she stood in the hazy light before sunset, dappled with snow and lovelier than anything he’d ever laid eyes on, he cared about her. He didn’t know why she brought life to his heart. He only knew she did.

  A cruel truth, because she was not free. He could only pray that the man who’d claimed her was worthy of her. A smart man
would walk away. This was a safe town, he and his fellow lawmen worked to keep it that way, but no young woman should be sitting alone in the cold and dark. It was his professional duty to see her somewhere safe, and that made it a little easier to snatch the battered satchel from her gloved hand.

  “Hey, that’s mine.” Soft tendrils of brown silk framed her heart-shaped face in airy little wisps. “You are helping me against my will, Marshal.”

  “Sorry, it’s my sworn duty. The train is leaving—” He paused while the whistle blew loud and long. “Your Tom will know to look for you at the hotel. This isn’t a big town. There aren’t a lot of other places you could go.”

  “I don’t know which hotel he made my reservation at.” Her gait tapped alongside his, as lightly as a waltz. “I’m afraid we didn’t exchange many letters.”

  “You were in a hurry to wed?”

  “Very much so, as I was sneaking into the local livery stable to sleep during the night and creeping out before the owner arrived each morning.” Her chin hiked another notch. “I could have been arrested for trespassing if I’d been caught. What do you think about that, Marshal?”

  Her tone remained light and sweet, but it took a like soul to hear the hollowness beneath. He clomped down the depot steps.

  “I do know how that feels.” His honesty surprised him. His past wasn’t something he dredged up. He followed the boardwalk, staying at her side. “My parents lost our farm when I was ten. We lived out of our wagon for two years. Pa would work wherever he could find day wages, usually harvesting or planting. In the heat of the summer or the bitterest days of winter I slept in the back of the wagon. Then one day, the wagon broke down, Pa couldn’t afford the repairs and so we slept where we could.”

  “You were homeless, too?” Surprise softened her, opened her up in a way he’d never seen in anyone before. She had a pure heart, he realized. No guise, no facade, just honesty. “So you know what it’s like?”