New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  She received a letter one day, addressed from a female name that was hauntingly familiar. It was one of the names Travis had used to covertly communicate with her in the past, like he’d done with the chocolates.

  Sylvia tore open the envelope and read over the letter quickly. Then she read it again slowly. Then she read it again, very slowly to confirm every unfortunate detail.

  Dear Sylvia,

  By now, I’m sure you’ve learned that I left New York. I’m sorry, but I had to. Upon further consideration, I concluded that I could not go through with our plans. I could not disgrace my father like that and give up everything I have and stand to inherit just to chase after a silly dream we had. I really am sorry, and I wish you the best from here on out.

  He signed the letter with a large, exaggerated T, then wrote at the bottom, P.S. Please don’t try to contact me or find me. I want nothing further to do with you.

  Sylvia felt dizzy and lightheaded. She was devastated. She’d thought she and Travis were so deeply in love, so committed to one another. I was so wrong about him, she lamented. I was so naive and foolish.

  She folded the letter, shoved it back into the envelope, bowed her head over it. She sulked over Travis for a few more minutes, then forced herself to change her thinking. As much as it hurt her to lose the man she loved, she now had a greater concern—she had to tell her father that she was carrying that man’s baby.

  Mr. Wallace was a good father in every practical sense, as he provided for Sylvia and let her want for nothing. But he wasn’t very compassionate or caring. In fact, he was quite cold, calculated, and stubborn, and though he gave Sylvia whatever clothes, books, or other items she wanted, he didn’t really give her the attention she craved. Indeed, he lived his life for business, and his main priority was profit. Sylvia was but one of the many other obligations he had to tend to, and he tended to her in a businesslike fashion, not with the sensitivity with which a parent usually tends to a child.

  Sadly, Mr. Wallace was the only parent Sylvia had or had ever known. Her mother died twenty-one years earlier while giving birth to her, and her father never remarried. She’d had various nannies and housemaids help raise her over the years, but they never cared for her, or loved her, like a mother would. In many significant ways, she grew up lacking—and no doubt, in troublesome times, such as the one she was in now, she wondered what it’d be like to go to a mother to help her through her problems.

  Sylvia pondered these things for a moment, then forced herself to return to more pressing thoughts. Instead of wondering about the parent she didn’t have, she had to focus on the one she did, and on how she’d tell him what was sure to be very unsettling news.

  How in the world am I going to tell him? she asked herself. She weighed her options, but none of them came out on top. No matter how I tell him, he’s going to take it badly, she bemoaned to herself.

  Sylvia was going on two months pregnant, so she knew she had some time before her belly started to show. But she also knew she had to tell her father before then. Such devastating news would be even worse if it came from inference or gossip, she figured. The news had to come from her lips.

  And one week later, it did—and to say that Mr. Wallace took it badly was a massive understatement.

  FOUR

  Mr. Wallace’s eyes narrowed in on his daughter. “I’m glad your mother isn’t alive to see this,” he seethed. “It would destroy her.”

  Not even an hour earlier, Sylvia had told him that she was with child and by whom. He’d said a few select words to her before kicking her out of his office so that he could think things over and, unbeknownst to her, throw back a few thimbles of whiskey. He wasn’t normally a drinker, but these were not normal circumstances.

  After the whiskey warmed his belly and cooled his nerves a little, Mr. Wallace set aside his raw, visceral feelings and approached the predicament as a practical matter. Then he called for Sylvia to share his conclusions—and he started the discussion with the aforesaid comment.

  “But I’m not going to let it destroy me,” Mr. Wallace added. “I won’t allow your indiscretions to tarnish my reputation or business.”

  Sylvia bowed her head and nodded. Like it or not, she agreed with her father’s reasoning.

  “If you have this baby out of wedlock, I’m sure to lose clients, friends, and, above all else, respect,” he went on. “And there’s no way I’m going to let that happen… So I’ve come up with a plan to prevent it and save myself from undue embarrassment and hardship.”

  Sylvia closed her eyes and readied herself for what would come next. She didn’t know what to expect, but she reckoned whatever it was, she deserved it.

  “I own a large ranching operation in Ruby, Arizona,” Mr. Wallace explained. “Just last year, I sent Roger Parker out there to oversee it. And now, I’ll be sending you out there too… to marry him.”

  Sylvia felt a tickle in her tummy, but it wasn’t a good one. She recognized the name her father had just said, and she felt uneasy about what she remembered. Roger Park was a slightly pudgy, rather average-looking man. He wasn’t very interesting, and he acted a bit dumbfounded around her. He always stared at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, but he never had the courage to say much (or at least anything that made sense).

  No, Sylvia thought. Not him. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t imagine herself married to Roger. But alas, she really was in no position to challenge her father. After all, the old man could completely disown her if he wanted. He could force her out of his house, onto the streets, or into a home for unwed mothers. Considering all that he could do, what he suggested wasn’t all that bad. Living an unhappily married life in a distant place where she and her child would be provided for was much better than these alternatives.

  “I’ll write to him right away to alert him of all this,” Mr. Wallace continued. “And I have complete confidence he’ll go for it. He is a keen, driven businessman, and marrying into our family would further advance his career. Plus he’s always had a fondness for you… and I hear that there’s a shortage of women out there in Arizona.”

  Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. Her father went on to gather an envelope and paper from his drawers.

  “That’s all,” he said, eager to start writing.

  Sylvia forced herself to open her eyes and look up at her father, then she forced a flat smile across her face and nodded. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to leave.

  Once she was out of his office, Sylvia allowed herself to cry and dwell on the bleakness of her father’s decision. She didn’t like the plan he’d come up with, or the fact that he didn’t even ask if she was okay with it.

  ***

  Two weeks later, Mr. Wallace called Sylvia to his office again.

  “Good news,” he told her as soon as she entered. “I got a wire from Roger earlier today, and he’s agreed to marry you.”

  Over the past two weeks, Sylvia had tried everything she could think of to make peace with her father’s plan. She’d prayed, read books on Christian values, and focused on Roger’s positive attributes, rather than his flaws. But still, she wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of marrying him—and it hurt her heart when her father said the words above. The news he was giving her certainly wasn’t good in her opinion.

  “The next westward train leaves here in a week,” Mr. Wallace went on. “You’ll be on it.”

  FIVE

  Sure enough, just as Mr. Wallace had decreed, Sylvia was on the next westward train leaving New York a week later. But guess what? She was not alone. In addition to the baby inside her, she was also joined by… her father.

  That’s right, Mr. Wallace had decided to accompany Sylvia to Arizona—for a variety of reasons. He figured it’d be easier for her to travel with him as her chaperone, and less likely to raise rumors. He also wanted to make sure his plan played out accordingly and, of course, check in on his business.

  But despite
whatever he thought, Sylvia didn’t so much like having him along. He made the already trying circumstances of riding the rails even worse and gave her a lot more to put up with. On top of the cramped space, limited resources, and other unsavory conditions that all the passengers had to endure, she had to endure him, which was a very challenging task. He was her father, but he was also her worst critic, and sometimes his words and gestures hurt or belittled her.

  Indeed, by the time the train finally reached Arizona, Sylvia was quite relieved. When it finally pulled into the station in Ruby, she was actually looking forward to seeing Roger Parker. She desperately needed a break from her father, and even Roger was a welcome distraction.

  But oddly, when she and Mr. Wallace got off of the train, it was not Roger who greeted them.

  As Sylvia and her father eyed the platform for a slightly pudgy, rather average-looking man, a much different man vigorously approached them. He was tall, well built, and had a square-jawed face with defined features.

  “Mr. Wallace!” the young man called out. He focused his dark blue eyes on Sylvia and her father, and Sylvia felt warmed by his gaze.

  The young man came upon them and held out his hand. “It’s nice to see you, sir,” he said politely. “Roger had business to tend to and couldn’t make it. So he sent me in his place.”

  “Ah!” Mr. Wallace smiled, ignoring the young man’s attempted handshake. “What a good man! Of course, Roger is tending to business. It was wise of him to send you instead of wasting his valuable time.”

  Mr. Wallace gestured toward his and Sylvia’s luggage, and the young man reached out and grabbed as much of it as he could. “My wagon’s just over this way,” he said, trying to grab the last of the suitcases.

  “Your wagon?” Mr. Wallace asked, raising his eyebrows. “Are you not allowed to use a carriage? I know the ranch has one on hand.”

  The young man chuckled, assuming his elder was joking. “Yes, we have a proper carriage,” he replied. “And of course, I’m allowed to use it. But Roger was already using it for his business.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Wallace replied. “Very well.” He ushered Sylvia off in the direction the young man had indicated, and Sylvia looked at him curiously.

  “Do you know that young man?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Who is he?”

  “He’s no one to be concerned with,” Mr. Wallace answered in an equally quiet voice. “He’s one of the men that works at the ranch, under Roger’s direction. His name’s Marshall… Jacob Marshall.”

  Jacob Marshall, Sylvia repeated in her head. She looked back at him as he carried their things and held back her urge to smile.

  After Jacob loaded the Wallaces’ things onto the wagon, he went up front, waited for his guests to get on, and then got on as well. As soon as he took his place, he glanced over at Sylvia, smiled, and nodded. When Mr. Wallace caught sight of the brief exchange, he grimaced, which caused Jacob to quickly bow his head and avert his eyes—and his eyes wound up fixed on Sylvia’s belly. At this point, it was now obvious that she was pregnant, since she had a round mound that protruded slightly from her otherwise lean body.

  Sylvia realized that Jacob was looking at her belly, and she was reminded of her condition and the way that some people on the train had looked at her critically. She figured Jacob was looking at her judgmentally too, and she felt a tinge of disappointment.

  Unbeknownst to her, however, Jacob wasn’t thinking critical thoughts. In fact, it warmed his heart to see her round belly. He knew nothing of her predicament, but nonetheless, he respected her for being a mother and nurturing life within her womb.

  “How are things at the ranch?” Mr. Wallace asked, taking charge of the conversation as Jacob turned and took hold of the wagon reins.

  “We’ve had our ups and downs,” Jacob answered, steering his horses away from the train station. “We have a good number of contracts out and serve a great number of clients… But we’ve been the victim of two rustlings over the past several months—and we’ve had a few workmen quit on us without notice.”

  “Yes, yes. I heard about the rustlings,” Mr. Wallace replied. “That’s part of why I came out here myself—to get to the bottom of things… Tell me, what’s your take on the matter?”

  Jacob shifted in his seat uncomfortably and stared at the road ahead of him. “Well, ah,” he hawed, “Roger believes it’s the Indians who are responsible. He thinks they’re taking our animals because the white men have taken theirs. But I… I… I don’t think that’s the case.

  “The Bonanza has been in operation for nearly three decades, and the Indians never did anything like this to us before. Nor have our workmen left us so abruptly. So I think… I think these things have to do with… with something more recent… something that’s happened within the last year or so.”

  Jacob looked over at Mr. Wallace. There was much more he wanted to say, but he was unsure as to whether he should—and when he saw the look on Mr. Wallace’s face, he decided it was best not to.

  “Oh, never mind,” the old man said, shaking his head. “I’ll have to talk this over more with Roger. It’s no use asking a ranch hand about such things.”

  With that, Mr. Wallace turned to Sylvia and began a new chapter of discussion. As the wagon progressed away from town, he told his daughter about the various people, places, and things he knew of in the area. He pointed out where the general store and bank were, as well as where the doctor and reverend lived, and he talked, at great length, about the business he’d done.

  After an hour that felt like it stretched on forever, the wagon finally neared the ranch. There was a large gate at the front of it, with a very big iron W affixed to it. Sylvia stared at the W as they got closer. Something about it looked a bit odd. But no bother, she soon saw other things that caught, and kept, her attention.

  The ranch was one of the biggest properties Sylvia had ever seen, and it was filled with dozens of animals. There were a few different structures on the land—barns, sheds, and other functional things, as well as the main house and servants’ house—and a myriad of equipment. Sylvia looked around anxiously, trying to take it all in.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Mr. Wallace asked proudly. Sylvia looked at him and nodded, though she was displeased by how pompous and greedy he appeared.

  “When I bought it ten years ago, I got it for a very low price,” Mr. Wallace went on. “It was a steal, and I’ve made back more than a hundred times what I paid.”

  Sylvia couldn’t stand the money-hungry look on her father’s face, and she looked away to further appraise the many splendors of the land. She hadn’t noticed, but Jacob had a strange expression on his face too.

  “Looks like Roger is done with his business,” Jacob said about a minute later as the horses approached their post. The carriage was already parked nearby.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Wallace smiled. Sylvia forced herself to smile as well and readied herself to re-meet the undesirable man she’d come there to wed.

  SIX

  “Really, it’s no big deal,” Roger sighed. “Yes, we’ve suffered two rustlings and lost nearly a dozen animals. But these things happen in ranching from time to time. I’ve already increased the number of men who go out on the runs and have decreased the number of men I keep privy to my plans. So I doubt there’ll be another rustling any time soon, and I figure the Indians will move on to find easier prey.”

  Roger ran his hand over his brow, and Mr. Wallace took a deep breath.

  “I guess you’re right,” the older man said. “But still, I’ve come all this way. I might as well look into things a bit more.”

  “Do whatever you’d like,” Roger replied. “And just let me know what I can do to help.”

  “You’ve already been an immense help,” Mr. Wallace said back. “Despite whatever else happens here, your marrying my daughter and being father to her child will help my family avoid scrutiny and continue to thrive.”

  The men were talking as if Sylvia weren’t in the roo
m. But indeed, she was. She and her father had been sitting with Roger in the dining room for well over a half an hour, as his cook prepared them an afternoon meal. But in that time, Roger had only said but a few words to her and, instead, talked mostly to his boss. He did, however, glance over at her quite often and stare at her—though unlike Jacob or the critical folks on the train, he didn’t stare at her belly. Instead, he stared at other parts of her form, which made her feel incredibly uncomfortable and objectified.

  In turn, Sylvia also glanced at Roger a few times. But it was mostly to appraise him, much like she’d appraised the land. Sadly, however, she was not as pleased with what she saw. Roger was no longer slightly pudgy. He’d grown to be quite fat. Sylvia wasn’t upset about his extra weight, per se. She was more disturbed by how he’d gotten that way. From the other things she’d heard him tell her father, she surmised he was quite lazy as far as physical tasks went and excessive as far as food, drink, and other luxuries were concerned.

  What’s more, Roger was rather pale. His skin looked as though he didn’t often see the sun, which was a curious thing given that he worked on a ranch in Arizona.

  “I’m honored to take her on as my bride,” Roger answered. “And I’m very happy to become your son-in-law. Together, we’re sure to do great things.”

  Sylvia was certain that the “we” Roger referred to was him and her father, and she felt an uneasiness in her stomach at the thought of marrying someone who was more concerned with the business of their union than with the personal end. That feeling turned to sickness a moment later, when the cook walked into the room.

  “Your food, sirs,” the cook said, setting a large dome-covered tray down in front of the men. She, too, was more focused on them and acted as though Sylvia did not exist.

  She lifted the tray, and in that instant, Sylvia was affronted with awful smells that made her stomach churn.