Mail Order Bride Tess: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Montana Mail Order Brides Series Book 2)

by Rose Jenster

  Mail Order Bride Tess

  Montana Mail Order Brides Series

  Book 2

  Rose Jenster

  RoseJenster.com

  Mail Order Bride Tess

  Montana Mail Order Bride Series, Book 2

  Copyright © 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  To receive discounts on future books, free stories, exclusive giveaways and get early notification on newest releases, join my newsletter list here: Free Newsletter or http://forms.aweber.com/form/39/1776483839.htm.

  Stop by and say hello at my website: www.RoseJenster.com or write to me at RoseJenster@gmail.com . I love to connect to my readers and dedicate this book to you. Thank you for the support, loyalty, reviews and learning about Tess's journey!

  Note that Mail Order Bride Leah, which is the first book of the series, is available at Amazon and these are stand-alone books as well. Each of the stories show the adventures, courage, grit and beauty of these women. Leah and Tess were friends in New York. The third book in the series is called Mail Order Bride Felicity and is also available at Amazon.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Mail Order Bride Felicity - Chapter 1

  Chapter 1

  ALBANY, NEW YORK, April 1885

  Tess Sullivan pressed a hand to her aching lower back and tried to straighten up from her crouching position. Mrs. Calloway harrumphed and glared down at her.

  “Will you kindly stop lounging and finish up?” Mrs. Calloway said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tess replied obediently, bending back over her work.

  She basted the hem to the appropriate length and sat back on her heels to survey the results. She checked the cuffs and pinned up another quarter of an inch on each one.

  “Now, I want the hem to break right at the instep of my new boots, you understand?” Mrs. Calloway reminded her, displaying the delicate kid leather of her footwear.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tess answered.

  Tess made swift notations in her book and stepped back, nodding with satisfaction. The burgundy walking costume would be the toast of that cross woman’s circle of friends. Tess had meticulously covered each tiny button with the fabric so the fastenings would blend in and not spoil the line of the fitted bodice and godet skirt. She would add black braid at the collar and cuffs after completing the alterations, and it would be exquisite. She hesitated before stepping across the shop from notions to accessories and withdrawing a black lace parasol to show her customer.

  “This would provide shade for your complexion and be just the right accent for your new gown,” Tess said softly.

  “I should say not! Why, if I turned up with a black lace parasol, Mr. Calloway would think all manner of frivolous things about me. I have this stout umbrella that does for me winter and summer alike,” she huffed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tess sighed, propping the parasol against a shelf dejectedly.

  “Well, are you finished?”

  “Yes. It will be ready on Thursday,”

  “Why so long? I had expected to find it done tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Calloway sniffed.

  “I apologize for any delay, but there are other customers whose alterations were scheduled first. If I am able to finish it early, I shall send word to you,” Tess said.

  Mrs. Calloway withdrew to the changing area and emerged dressed in her own garments. She had left the new walking dress crumpled in a heap on the floor. Tess hastened to pick it up and smooth the mistreated fabric, checking her chalk marks for smudging. She’d have the dress finished, sponged, and pressed in plenty of time, she assured herself; the woman just liked to throw her weight around because her husband had recently been appointed editor of the Albany Gazette.

  Still, she winced as she heard Mrs. Winthrop, her employer, bid Mrs. Calloway a respectful farewell and ask if she was pleased with the progress on her gown. Tess knew what the answer would be and prepared herself to be admonished about working too slowly. She hung the dress on a wooden frame so the wrinkles would drop out before she set to work on finishing the hem and cuffs, then, her eyes darting left and right, she slipped out the back door to the alley.

  Tess took long breaths of sour city air, her back against the clammy brick wall. Her shuddering sigh startled a rangy cat that hissed at her and backed away from the garbage piled in the alley. She craned her neck upward, trying to catch a glimpse of the gray sky, a cloud scudding by, anything to remind her she was outdoors and closer to nature, not cooped up inside that stale shop.

  Tess knew she was lucky to have a decent job, but she hated going to work just as the first rays of sun pushed up over the horizon and walking home in the dark. She missed every moment of sunlight and freshness, pricking her fingers with the needle by the light of an oil lamp, stuck indoors. Tess made her way to the opening out onto the street and took another breath, finding the air just as rancid as it smelt in the confines of the alley between buildings.

  Shutting her eyes, she thought of the exhibit coming to the museum, the pictures she’d read about, and promised herself a trip to see them. If she couldn’t make her way to the open air of the mountains, she could see paintings of that landscape and imagine herself there.

  Tess crept back into the workroom and tidied her things. She replaced the parasol wistfully on the display shelf. For an instant, she imagined herself an intrepid traveler, strolling along the foothills beneath a majestic mountain range, with that glamorous lace parasol shading her from the pitiless Western sun as she explored—the picture of a clever, brave adventurer.

  Sighing aloud, she focused on repairing the rent in Miss Deam’s new ball gown, bending low over the work to make a tiny, invisible seam where the young lady’s slipper heel had torn her train during a waltz. Again, Tess’s thoughts wandered, this time to a fantasy in which she wore this silken gown of pale apricot and a pair of cunning heeled shoes to dance in a glittering ballroom, the gloved hand of a handsome gentleman resting lightly on her waist as they twirled. Hers was not that life but a life of service and modesty. She was bashful by nature, and modesty suited her well, but sometimes she longed for excitement, for adventure…even, she blushed to think the word—romance!

  Tess completed the repair and laid a protective sheet over it so as not to singe the delicate fabric while she pressed it to practiced perfection. Next she attached fragile, costly cream-colored lace to the neckline of a day dress in a shell-like shade of robin’s egg blue.

  She imagined piling her long brown hair atop her head in artful twists, securing it with pearl-tipped hairpins and donning this gown to receive visitors in an elegant morning parlor…just the way the new Mrs. Goldman planned to do when she returned from her wedding trip to find her first society hostess dresses finished and waiting. Tess pushed stray tendrils out of her eyes, tucking them back into her serviceable bun, and tried to banish her imagination for the remainder of the day.

  She stayed a little late, missing the last
of the sunset as the colors melted into a dismal gray twilight, but she finished Mrs. Calloway’s hem and cuffs plus secured the braided trim with tiny, flawless stitches. She could hear her sister, near hysterics in the front room, as she mounted the front steps at home. Her mother’s voice was soothing, coddling Rebecca out of a bridal tantrum. Tess took a bracing deep breath and swung open the door, straightening her tired shoulders and forcing a cheerful smile onto her weary face.

  “You’re late!” Rebecca whimpered from where she sat on the sofa, delicate features drooping in a pout.

  “I’m sorry. I had to finish a dress,”

  “What about MY dress?” Rebecca said, her voice childish and accusing.

  Though she was already twenty years old, she was used to being the baby of the family. Tess sat down beside her and took her hand reassuringly.

  “I’ll make sure your gown is perfect, Becky,” she promised.

  “Thank you!” Rebecca’s face was wreathed in sunny smiles again, as suddenly as the pout had come on her, “Let’s go up and get to work!”

  “You might have sent word you were going to be delayed. You know how it upsets your sister to be kept waiting,” her mother reproached her gently.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said, wondering why most of her daily words were confined to the obedient "yes, ma’am,” and her evening words must be apologies, too.

  “There’s a plate for you in the kitchen when you’re through. We ate ages ago….You know your father won’t postpone a meal for anyone. President Cleveland himself would be left to his own devices if he arrived five minutes late!” her mother said.

  Tess followed her exuberant sister upstairs on tired feet and took out her sewing things. Turning up the wick on the oil lamp to give herself more light, she helped her sister into her wedding gown and checked the measurements before pinning the rows of ribbon to the hem. It was a wide satin ribbon she’d bought at the shop, and even with the discount her employer gave her, it had cost a great deal. She couldn’t afford to waste a single inch of it with inaccuracy or crooked placement.

  “Do hold still, Becky,” Tess pleaded as she pinned.

  “Don’t nag so, Tessie,” Rebecca returned. “It’s natural to be excited in my wedding dress.”

  “Yes, darling, but it’s not easy to measure and place the trim with you shifting your weight and swaying. I’m a seamstress, not an acrobat,” Tess said.

  “You’re always so grumpy when you come home,” Rebecca pouted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said automatically, and continued to pin.

  Their mother bustled in to check the progress and sniffed her approval.

  “You’ll be a lovely bride, Rebecca, just like your sister Carol was,” she sighed, “And dear Tessie will care for us in our old age and be, I’m sure, a doting maiden aunt for all the babies you will have in the years to come.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Tess felt tears prick her own eyes but for a different reason. She was the eldest, but the only unmarried daughter left once Rebecca took her vows at the end of the month. She was the spinster bridesmaid, holding the flowers, while her sisters, in succession, got golden bands before God and family, pledging their love. Her future felt so bleak, nothing but cold suppers in her parents’ house and their discontents and ailments to fill her nonworking hours.

  There would be less and less time for her books, her little sewing projects, even her Bible study group, as her parents grew older and her sisters would, rightly, assume that she, as the unmarried daughter, could shoulder all the responsibility. Her parents were, praise God, yet well and hearty, but the day would come that what small freedoms she had would be curtailed by necessity. She thought again of the lace parasol, the mountains of her dreams, and had to make herself focus on the ribbons and lace of her baby sister’s wedding gown.

  After securing the lace at the cuffs with a few careful stitches, she helped her sister out of the dress and went down to the kitchen for her belated supper. Tess nearly fell asleep while scrubbing her hands before sitting down to cold stew because she was too exhausted to heat it up. She took off her dress, sponged the smudges around the hem and cuffs, and laid it out flat before falling asleep in her shift without even bothering to put on her nightgown.

  When she woke, it was with pins jabbing her in the scalp. Shaking herself awake, she dragged the pins out of her snarled hair and combed it through, wincing at the tangles. She braided it smoothly and pinned it up again, glancing at the clock and realizing with disappointment that it was already time to get ready for work.

  After another hectic day at work, Tess was more than ready to relax at her Bible study class that evening. She tidied her hair and went directly from the shop to the pastor’s home where his wife was setting out tea and little sandwiches. Although only a few of the ladies had arrived, Mrs. Talbert offered Tess a plate knowingly. Tess gratefully ate a sandwich of egg and cress before she even spoke.

  Jane Weaver was there, and Tess took a seat beside her, removing a book from her satchel.

  “Here, Jane, this is the book I was speaking of last week,”

  “Why, thank you, Tessie. That must’ve been two weeks ago…I think you had to work last week,” Jane said kindly.

  “Oh, yes, you’re right. I had to work on my sister’s dress. She’s getting married, you know,”

  “They’re about to work you right into the ground from what I hear. All hours at that shop and then go home not to supper but to another dress to make? Gracious me. It’s glad I am that you’ve a chance to sit down at Bible study at least,” Jane said.

  “Oh, I have always liked to sew, ever since my grandmother taught me, God rest her soul,”

  “Well, I like to make pies, but that don’t mean I want to do it for twelve hours every day!” Jane said good-naturedly and turned the book over in her hands, “This is the one about the pond, you said?” she added skeptically.

  “Yes, Walden Pond. It’s so beautiful, Jane, I know you’ll love it. All about how we need to simplify our lives and be as one with nature…” She clasped her hands as she spoke, her eyes sparkling with feeling, “to economize and to ennoble ourselves with good literature. How I wish I could read in Greek!” she said.

  “I’ll sure try it if you love it so much, but I won’t try it in Greek!” Jane tucked it into her valise, “We’re starting Second Samuel tonight. Have you kept up your reading? I’ve read ahead for next week’s, too, as my sister and her brood are coming in for a visit tomorrow!”

  “Oh! Where does she live?”

  “Out west. She married a Mr. Rollings, and they have three little ones, two boys and a girl called after myself,” she blushed with pride. “I’m not so sure how I’ll manage little Walter at the train station with all that crowd…”

  “Oh, I’ll keep him for you! I’d love to! He’s such a dear,” Tess said fondly.

  “Are you sure? He can be a handful for a little mite. I suppose it is Saturday, but are you certain you’d care to spend your day off minding my boy?”

  “I’d love it above anything. I do love children so, Jane, and I’d like to be a help to you,” Tess declared.

  “It might even give you an escape from the bridal preparations,” Jane raised an eyebrow mischievously.

  Tess hastily shook her head. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t let anything interfere with Becky’s special day. I’ll complete my work on her dress, and Mother’s and mine, in plenty of time,” she said.

  “You’re so serious! I was teasing you, Tessie! You deserve a few moments away from work and the busy time before your sister weds. I only wish I could offer you something more refreshing than a morning minding my boy,” Jane said, “If you’ll come, I’ll take advantage of the offer. The train’s to arrive at 6:40 in the morning, so if you could be there a bit before that, I’d be obliged,” Jane said as they opened their Scriptures for class to begin.

  ***

  The next morning, Tess was at Jane’s doorstep early enough to feed little Walt
er his porridge while his mother went to fetch her relatives at the train. She was busily wiping the rest of breakfast off his pudgy face and singing "Pat-a-Cake" to him, helping him clap his little hands along with the rhyme, when Jane blew back in with a noisy clatter.

  A woman in her thirties wore a dusty pink traveling suit that was too snug at the middle and cradled a squalling bundle in her arms while two sturdy little boys trailed behind and her husband followed with their boxes. The sitting room was filled in an instant, and Tess swept little Walter up into her arms and went to put the kettle on for the company.

  She felt bashful around new people, but May was so much like Jane—warm, brash and funny—that she felt comfortable with her almost immediately. As Jane shifted little Walter onto her own hip, she thanked Tess and introduced her to the relatives. Though they pressed her to stay, she withdrew politely and wished them a good day catching up with each other. She would have liked to hang about, just listening to their lively, affectionate talk, but she had dresses to make for the wedding.

  Tess stole up to her room and stitched dutifully on her own gray dress for her sister’s wedding. As bridesmaid, she would have a new gown, and her mother had chosen a serviceable gray for her new Sunday best dress. As soon as she finished the tucks on her skirt, she began adding the trim to her mother’s rose colored jacket. It was the latest style from the fashion books, and she would tailor it to flatter her mother’s figure, which ran to stoutness.

  The pretty jacket could be worn respectably with a dark rose skirt she already had, so the jacket and a new hat were all her mother required in the way of finery for the celebration. She had laid aside a dashing cluster of deep pink peonies at the shop to trim her mother’s new straw bonnet as a surprise. Tess had great hopes of those peonies. She smiled just thinking of how delighted her mother would be, how she would give way from the sighs about how she was growing old, now that her youngest daughter was a bride, and enjoy the day and the beauty it provided.