Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set

by Jillian Hart

  “All she cares about is whether or not Eliza has a doll,” Gabe said quietly. “One with hair and silk dresses and fine-knit stockings.”

  Annabelle glanced over to the curtain to see if the little girl was stirring. “I do have small presents for both of the children. We can give those to them when Mrs. Baker is here. Not all children even get presents at Christmas.”

  Gabe sat down at the table.

  “I made them each something, too,” he mumbled. “But they’re not store-bought.”

  “Presents don’t need to cost money,” she assured him as she sat down at the table next to him. “I’m sure the children will be very pleased.”

  Her father had never given her a gift and he wouldn’t have considered spending his time making something for her. The only time anyone ever gave her something was when her mother gave her the gold locket from her wedding. There was a photograph of Annabelle’s father on one side and a small gold coin pressed into the space where another photograph would normally go. She always thought her mother had put the coin there without telling her father—that maybe she knew Annabelle would need it someday.

  She had never given much thought to the presents that parents might give their children...until now.

  “What did you make?” she whispered softly as she looked back at Gabe. “I embroidered some new handkerchiefs. It’s not much, but I put their names on them. Children like that.”

  “That sounds very nice,” he said as he beamed at her. Then he moved his chair closer to hers and whispered, also. “I made a pair of moccasins for Daniel and a leather doll for Eliza. I don’t have any clothes for the doll yet, but I plan to cut out a small blanket for her to use with it.”

  “I have some scraps of fabric that I brought with me. I could make a dress for the doll.”

  “You could?” Gabe said as he moved his chair closer yet. “Even a simple dress would be enough.”

  Annabelle knew he didn’t realize their knees were touching. But she did; her cheeks were pink because of it. Every time they sat down at this table, they seemed to be touching each other. She wasn’t sure it was entirely proper, although maybe such things were less important out here than back East. He was hopefully going to be her brother-in-law anyway.

  “I have some nice silk material,” she answered as she inched her chair away from him.

  “Perfect.”

  Gabe didn’t seem to notice that she’d moved.

  They were both silent for a moment and then Gabe started looking around and frowning at the room like it bothered him. “I don’t really want to have them back here for the party. It might not be much, but it’s home.”

  Annabelle nodded. “I thought we’d need to have everyone sit in the store area anyway. There’s more room there and that big fireplace can be cheerful. We can set the tree up beside it.”

  “Which means we’ll need to get a tree before I go to the fort,” he said as he stood up. “I better get the stove ready to make breakfast.”

  Gabe went over to the stove and Annabelle slipped back behind the curtain. Her valise was sitting on the floor at the end of the bed and she bent down to open it. She looked up to see if Eliza was still sleeping, but the little girl lay too still for that.

  “I wonder when Eliza is going to wake up,” Annabelle said with an exaggerated sigh and was rewarded with the sound of soft giggles as the girl opened her eyes.

  “Almost time for breakfast,” Annabelle said. “I’m going to show your uncle Gabe something and then I’ll be back to brush your hair.”

  She was suddenly grateful that her injuries would not affect her ability to do a good job with the girl’s hair. At least Eliza wouldn’t have to settle for braids.

  While Eliza yawned, Annabelle took hold of her valise and shoved it to the other side of the curtain. Then she walked around and put her hand inside the valise to draw out one of the remnants she had after making her gray silk dress. She searched around until she found some of the crocheted lace, as well.

  She walked over to Gabe with the scraps of material.

  “I think I could make a simple dress with these.” She kept her voice low.

  “But that silk is from your dress.” Gabe whispered a protest when he saw what she held. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Eliza will like that her doll has a dress to match mine. Maybe later I can make a sash for Eliza to wear from the same material, too.”

  “I’ll buy you more fabric,” Gabe offered then. “The next time we’re at the mercantile.”

  “I have enough.”

  And, it was true, she realized. The black cotton dress she was wearing might not have a quality dye to it and the tucks on the skirt didn’t fall with any grace, but she felt content.

  Right then Daniel burst through the door with his bucket of water.

  “I saw rabbit tracks,” he announced with excitement as he set his burden down by the stove. “It’s cold out there.”

  “Stand by the fire and warm up while I cook us some breakfast,” Gabe said and then he looked at Annabelle. “It looks like Eliza wants her hair done.”

  Annabelle turned and saw the little girl standing by the curtain with a small hairbrush in her hand.

  “Curls?” the girl asked.

  “We can try them for the party,” Annabelle said as she walked over and knelt by Eliza. “Your hair will be beautiful in curls.”

  That satisfied the girl and she led the way behind the curtain so Annabelle could help her dress. By the time Eliza was ready for breakfast, Gabe had made some of the best pancakes Annabelle had ever eaten. And then he announced that he was going to hitch up the horses and they were all going to go looking for a Christmas tree.

  Daniel’s eyes went wide with delight and he explained to his sister what a Christmas tree was. It seemed the two had never had one before.

  “And there’s an angel on the highest top branch,” Daniel finished telling Eliza.

  “But we don’t got an angel,” the girl said as she glanced over at her uncle in worry.

  “No, but we have our Christmas pear,” he assured her. “We can put that on our tree.”

  She smiled as she remembered. “Pretty.”

  “And we can make some of our own ornaments,” Annabelle told the children. “I used to cut out paper snowflakes when I was your age for the windows in my father’s store at Christmas.”

  Eliza looked up at her in concern. “Didn’t you get to have a tree, either?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “My father didn’t think we needed one. There was only the two of us for the holiday. We never had company.”

  “Oh,” Eliza said and then she seemed to think about that for a moment before climbing down from her chair and going over to crawl into Annabelle’s lap.

  Annabelle blinked back a tear.

  “We all get to have a tree this Christmas,” Eliza said.

  Even Gabe had to clear his throat. “I know just the place to find a tree. If we all help with dishes, we can be ready to go soon.”

  Both children scrambled down to the floor. Daniel went to get the basin for washing dishes and Eliza found the broom.

  “I should have thought about a Christmas tree sooner,” Gabe confessed to her, his voice thick with emotion. “If I hadn’t done it to prove Mrs. Baker wrong, I wouldn’t have even thought of it. And look how much it means to them.”

  Annabelle nodded. “Children always love Christmas. We need to read the story from the Bible, too, with them. We can start it tonight and finish it after the party.”

  “I could stand to read that for myself,” Gabe said. “I never have really understood how it is possible. God coming to earth as a baby. That’s amazing.”

  Annabelle was quiet for a moment then she asked, “Are you a man of faith?”

  Gabe sat back in his chair and answered her thoughtfully. “I want to be. I keep listening to the preacher on Sunday mornings and I want to be.” He didn’t say anything for a bit. “And you?”

  “I’m trust
ing God as best I can,” she told him.

  “So maybe Christmas will be a time for both of us to ask for more faith,” Gabe said. “The preacher says all a man needs to do is ask.”

  With that, he stood up and walked over to the bucket of water Daniel had brought.

  “The kettle on the stove is full of water for cleaning the dishes,” he said. “But we’ll need to add some cold into the basin, too.”

  Annabelle sat alone at the table for a moment. She’d never talked about her spiritual life with a man before. Not even the preacher back home. She’d mentioned her doubts to her friend, Christina, on the train coming out here. But she’d never had a man around who cared enough to worry about her fears or insecurities. Talking with Gabe just now reminded her of what a family should be like. She could only hope Adam was as caring as his brother.

  Chapter Five

  The sky was turning to dusk as Gabe rode home from Fort Keogh. He’d gotten a late start on his trip over to the fort because he’d wanted to put the tree they’d found into an old bucket before he left. That way Annabelle and the children would be able to decorate it where it stood by the fireplace in the trading post. They’d agreed to bring out the white buffalo robe he had and set it in front of the tree so the children could all sit on it. They’d have enough chairs for the adults. And Annabelle had some red ribbon she intended to string along the rocks that lined the fireplace. She also planned to boil a touch of cinnamon in water to cover the musty smell the trading post had when it was damp outside.

  Christmas was coming.

  The snow was light, but it still made the air heavy as Gabe wiped away the flakes that had fallen on his face. He was wearing his old mountain coat with its sheepskin collar, but Annabelle insisted he wear a knit scarf she’d pulled out of her valise, too. The soldiers had been amused, because it was bright blue and he felt as decorated as that old tree probably was about now. The men knew he’d never wear the scarf without a woman asking it of him, but he kept it around his neck happily enough anyway even when he was far from the fort.

  What fools men were, he thought to himself as he smiled. All a woman had to do was fuss over them a little and they’d do almost anything.

  Except for Adam, he thought in discouragement. Maybe there had been too many women fussing over his brother throughout the years. He knew their grandmother had doted on him. If it had been otherwise, maybe his brother would be more responsible now.

  Gabe had discovered that Adam had gone to the fort, but was no longer there. He had gone out with some of the soldiers hunting rabbits to make a Christmas stew. Or so the story was told. Gabe suspected it had more to do with a barrel of whiskey, some cards and avoiding the bride he’d apparently heard had arrived, than any stew. But Gabe had done all he could. No one knew where the rabbits were supposed to be. So he had explained the situation to the sergeant at the fort and asked him to pass on an urgent message to his brother when he returned. The sergeant had been the one who told Gabe that his brother knew about the bride, but not the encounter with Mrs. Baker. The sergeant had looked alarmed over the fate of the children and agreed Adam needed to know what was happening on Christmas Eve. The sergeant was a reliable man so Gabe felt free to leave. Regardless of why the group of soldiers had ridden off, Gabe knew word would get to his brother without much delay if Gabe read the sergeant’s concern rightly.

  In the meantime, Gabe needed to go home. The party was less than two days away and he didn’t want to leave Annabelle to face the preparations alone.

  Especially because the guest list had grown after his path crossed that of Jake Hargrove, one of his neighbors. Jake had always been good to him so it seemed natural to invite the man, his wife and three children to come to the party and, since the man seemed so pleased with the invitation, he asked him to include the Martins, too. Eleanor Martin had been a mail-order bride and he was sure Annabelle would want to talk to her. Come to think of it, Elizabeth Hargrove had married Jake without knowing him well, either.

  Maybe there was something to be said for a person marrying someone they didn’t know well, he thought to himself philosophically. It sure looked like the Hargroves and Martins were as happy as any married couples had a right to be.

  He guided his horse along the turn that led to the path home.

  That would add seven more people to their party, and he wanted to let Annabelle know before she made that apple and raisin cake she had been talking about earlier. Jake had assured him that Eleanor would bring some of her famous Christmas tea and that his wife would make a batch of the sugar cookies his children loved to eat at the holiday. He said he’d been learning to play the fiddle and would bring that along, as well, so they could have some music.

  Gabe had been so moved by his neighbor’s generosity that he had poured out the story of his missing brother and the threat posed by Mrs. Baker and her sister. Jake promised to do everything he could to see that Gabe’s family stayed safe and together.

  They finally parted company, but not before the other man insisted on praying with him. They’d both been on horseback, but they reined their animals as close together as they could and bowed their heads. Gabe had seldom said a more heartfelt amen than he did to that prayer.

  When he made the final turn that led to the old trading post, he concluded that he’d prayed with more people today, for more reasons, than he had in his entire life. And he’d found it comforting. Even if Mrs. Baker gave up her talk of adoption, he would still go to church on Sunday mornings.

  The snow kept falling, but he could make out the thin trail of smoke from the cookstove. The curtains were open on the windows, but no lamp or outdoor lantern was lit. He supposed Annabelle and the children had become so intent on their paper ornaments for the tree that they had not noticed how dark it was becoming.

  He didn’t need to guide his horse to the lean-to. The mare knew where he was going. She quietly went into the structure and he dismounted, taking her saddle off and giving her a measure of grain before rubbing her dry.

  He was at the door to the trading post before he heard the soft sobs.

  He thought it was Eliza, upset about being told to go to bed. But, when he pushed the door open, he saw it was Annabelle sitting on the floor with her head down and her shoulders heaving.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he entered the room and went to her. She had lit the fire he’d laid earlier in the fireplace or he wouldn’t have been able to see. The door was open to the living quarters and there was no light in there so he assumed the children were in bed.

  Annabelle struggled to control her sobs and then it was silent.

  It wasn’t until then that he saw the Christmas tree lying on the dirt floor near her, the white paper ornaments scattered around it. Shiny bits of gold shone on the dirt, too.

  Annabelle looked so defenseless sitting on the floor with her head hanging down that he reached for her as he knelt beside her. He’d intended to put his arm around her, but when his hand touched her shoulder in passing she flinched and gasped.

  “You’re hurt?” He didn’t try to touch her again, but sat down beside her instead. “What happened?”

  She lifted her tearstained face to him. “I broke the pear ornament. I wanted to move the Christmas tree. Remember how the clerk put the pear in the light so it would shine. I thought I could get the firelight to shine through it if I moved it to the right.”

  “But did you fall?” he asked. “I could have moved the tree for you when I got back.”

  She just shook her head.

  Then she took a ragged breath and looked at him with distress in her eyes. “How am I going to be a good wife to Adam if I can’t do something as simple as move that tree? I thought I could do it. I did not have to bend down and pick it up. I just needed to slide it over a little.”

  “You must have slipped. That’s all,” he said as he tried to figure out what had happened. “We put some water in that bucket and maybe some of it spilled.”

  She shook he
r head. “No, it’s me. It’s my injury—from the fire.”

  She looked at him fully then, strands of her chestnut hair loosened from the braid going down her back. Her green eyes were dark with misery. In the firelight, her face was pale as a piece of white china his mother had once.

  “Start at the beginning and tell me all about it,” he urged her.

  And so she did, the words about her father’s store tumbling out of her and then she spoke of the night of the fire.

  “I tried to go back in,” she said, her breath catching. “My father was still in there and I needed to find him. But I couldn’t. I’d stayed up late to do the bookkeeping and my father had gone to bed. The fire started on the second floor and it started burning down into the main part of the store. A piece of wood hit me across the shoulders. It was burning. I felt arms grab me from behind and start to pull me out. I didn’t fight them because I thought it was my father, coming in to save me. But it wasn’t him. It was Mr. Norton, our neighbor. His dog had woken him up.”

  She was silent for a few minutes after that and he doubted she was even aware that she had taken his hand in a death grip.

  “I have scars along my back and shoulders,” she finally continued. “I told Adam about them in that letter he never received. I told all the other men who had written to me, too. The way the burns healed on my arm makes it difficult for me to lift heavy things. I don’t have the strength a normal woman does.”

  “But you’re alive,” he whispered. “You could have died.”

  “I wished I had,” she said softly. “At first there was so much pain from the burns and I’d let my father die. I heard his voice calling for me and I couldn’t find him. I didn’t think I deserved to live after that.”

  Gabe opened his arms and she slid closer to him, carefully resting against his chest.

  “You couldn’t have saved him,” he murmured into her hair as he stroked the back of her neck. “He would have understood.”

  She gave a bitter chuckle and looked up at him. “You didn’t know my father. He expected me to come all right.”