New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  But alas, I didn’t know until I saw his posting in the Matrimonial Times. When I did, I responded right away on your behalf. He’s agreed, and enclosed you’ll find the arrangements for your passage. First you will travel west by the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, then transfer to the Northern Pacific Railway. This will take you as far as Billings, Montana, where Mister Oakley has arranged for a stagecoach to meet you for the rest of your journey. I will be waiting to meet you upon your arrival in Livingston.

  Should any troubles befall you, he has included a small sum of money to assist in your efforts.

  My dear friend, how happy it makes me to know that our next correspondence won’t be by letter, but face to face! I look forward to you joining me here in Montana, and hope that you’ll depart the instant you receive this letter, and never ever look back!

  Haley let the letter fall into her lap and she realized how heavily her heart was beating in her chest, swelling against the bodice of her dress.

  She couldn’t believe it; after all of these months, it was finally happening!

  Claire had first posed the suggestion three years earlier, when she had arrived in Montana. She had written to Haley about the lack of women in town, and how the men -- even the most handsome and charming -- were left without companionship.

  Claire had urged Haley to travel to Montana as a bride for one of these men. At first, she had resisted; the notion of leaving the comforts and security of life in Georgetown, albeit bleak, and traveling all that way to live in another world, and marry a man she had never even met… why, Haley’s head spun at the very suggestion!

  But as the months whittled by, she began to realize just how dark her future in Maryland was. She had no means of establishing herself beyond the four walls of the bakery’s cellar kitchen. She had no money of her own, no family or friends to support her, and marriage? Well! There was certainly no hope for that in Maryland.

  Haley was beautiful ─ stunning, in fact ─ but her Aunt Margie kept her hidden and hard at work in the bakery. She was already twenty-one years old, and her prospects of finding a husband ─ nevermind one who was kind and gentle ─ were nonexistent.

  Staying in Maryland, she realized, meant dooming herself to a life in the bakery; a life alone.

  And so she had agreed, finally, to Claire’s urgings. Claire hadn’t hesitated. She began searching at once, but it had taken time. The months had continued to pass, and Claire’s letters had continued to arrive, each time promising that it wouldn’t be much longer now… that it would just take a few more weeks to make the arrangements.

  And now, nearly a year after she had made up her mind to travel to Montana as a mail-order bride, the moment was finally here.

  “Oi! That better not be burning bread I smell!” Aunt Margie bellowed loudly from the bakery overhead, and Haley nearly leapt from the flour sack. She had been so distracted with Claire’s letter that she had forgotten to mind the bread in the oven.

  Haley rushed to her feet and used the peel to reach into the hot brick oven and slide the loaves out. The crusts were still golden and crisp, but another few seconds and they might have charred. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then she returned to pick up her Bible and the letter, and she finally allowed herself to lift the square of newspaper and read the first words from the man who would soon be her husband.

  Mister Hunter Oakley, she repeated the name in her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile.

  TWO

  Hunter Oakley stretched his weary back, the muscles throbbing under his skin from a long day of work on the ranch. He was riding back to the house on horseback, and the sweet aroma of a savory stew had managed to reach him through the crisp night air, beckoning from the farmhouse. He could see the golden glow of the lamps in the dining room sparkling from across the flat plane of farmland, and the sight and smell filled him with a combined sense of excitement and dread.

  All he could think about was her: Ethel Oakley, his brother’s wife, and the only woman he had ever loved. At least, he figured it was love; there was no other explanation for the way she made him feel.

  It wasn’t right, he decided, that a woman could have that sort of effect on a man. He tried his best to suppress the feelings; to seek the Lord’s guidance and to be a man of honor, but it was futile. He was in love with Ethel, but she belonged to his brother.

  “Hurry up, brother,” Thomas called from ahead. He was riding his own horse several paces ahead of Hunter, and he stopped at the clearing to glance backwards. Though the sun had gone out behind the ridge of mountains that surrounded Oakley Ranch, Hunter could make out the ridges of his brother’s face.

  They were nearly identical, him and Thomas; could have been twins, besides the fact that they were born two years apart. This detail only added to Hunter’s torment: if they were identical, why had Ethel chosen Thomas and not him?

  Thomas was the eldest Oakley brother, and there were four more after him: first Hunter, then Jared, Lucas and Dustin.

  All five Oakley brothers had been forced into manhood prematurely when their father, Thomas Oakley Senior, shamefully abandoned the family ranch after a devastating drought. The boys, barely into their teenaged years at the time, had stepped up to care for the land, and for their mother.

  Sadness and misfortune continued to plague the Oakley family. The year their father left to chase the promise of a better life further west, the crop had failed and the family nearly fell into squalor. That winter was the worst, and spring brought with it little improvement. One of the silos collapsed in a storm, and a few moths Dustin, the youngest brother, developed a rash that turned into Scarlet Fever. He died in his mother’s arms.

  Mrs. Oakley lived through a few winters after that, but her sons knew that though her body was present, her soul had already passed over to the other side. They watched her waste away, and there was nothing they could do. Finally, the year Hunter turned seventeen she perished on Christmas Eve.

  Those were trying years for the Oakley boys, but they taught Hunter a lot about being a man: about caring for his own, and being good to others. He knew it wasn’t Godly of him, but he resented his father for leaving; for causing his mother such pain. He had vowed them to be a better husband one day, and when he met Ethel, he thought he would get his chance.

  But instead, she had accepted a proposal from Thomas, and Hunter spent every day since then wishing he had never met her in the first place. At least then he wouldn’t have to know the pain of living without her.

  Hunter followed his brother across the pasture and to the horse barn, where they tied their steeds and scattered hay for the horses to feed. Hunter filled the trough with a pail of fresh water and gave his horse an affectionate stroke before following Thomas the rest of the way to the farmhouse.

  The aroma of supper was strong in the field, but it became overpowering when the men entered the house. Hunter saw Ethel bustling out of the kitchen, gripping a cast-iron pot through a pair of dishrags.

  “Let me carry that for you,” Hunter insisted, rushing to her side and relieving her of the heavy pot. Her eyes flashed gratefully.

  “You’re so kind,” she thanked him, and he felt his cheeks flush at the compliment.

  Ethel didn’t notice his flustered response, though; she had already rushed to her husband’s side. She took Thomas’ coat and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Your skin has gone cold!” she remarked, letting her fingers rest on his cheek. “You mustn’t work so long, now that the cold weather is upon her.” Thomas sighed, impatient with his little wife.

  “There’s too much work to be done,” he grumbled. “We’ve got to stay ahead of the weather, or it will cost us the harvest.”

  Hunter carried the pot of stew to the dining table, then he sat himself down and waited for Ethel and Thomas to join him. The table was already set with the fruits of Ethel’s labors: warm corn muffins, steamed greens, baked beans…

  Hunter wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a
curse, living with a woman like Ethel. Dinners like these, after all, were merely a reminder that she wasn’t his. Sometimes, he wondered if it would be better to go hungry, then to taste something he couldn’t fully have.

  That was part of the reason he had written his post in the newspaper. He had seen plenty of other men in town do the same -- advertise for brides to join them in Livingston, to bring companionship and a woman’s touch to rustic farm living in rural Montana.

  When Hunter had first seen their posts, he had laughed sympathetically; what sort of man needed to make an advertisement in the newspaper to find a bride? But his laughter and amusement had diminished over the years, as he began to understand the exact desperation and loneliness that could drive a man to do such a thing.

  And finally, once he had gotten sick and tired of watching Ethel and Thomas, Hunter had decided to make an advertisement of his own. He was going to find a bride, once and for all.

  He hadn’t expected to receive a response so quickly. His post had only been in print for a few days when Claire Jordan had reached out to tell him about her friend. She had gone on and on about Haley Douglas, assuring Hunter that she was refined, modest, good-natured, and had good morals.

  Hunter had listened politely and agreed to Claire’s suggestion that he arrange for Haley to travel to Montana. He had even felt a small glimmer of hope.

  She wouldn’t be Ethel; no woman could be, as far as he was concerned. But Haley would cook him dinner and take his coat after a long day’s work, and for Hunter Oakley, that was the next best thing.

  THREE

  As promised, Claire Jordan was waiting for Haley’s stagecoach on the main street in Livingston, Montana.

  It had been a long and tiresome journey, and Haley’s body had long gone stiff from the cramped accommodations on the rail car, and the even tighter stagecoach interior. Sore muscles weren’t her only ailment; Haley’s heart hadn’t stopped beating fiercely since the moment she had opened Claire’s letter, and the anticipation of her new life in Montana had been the cause of many sleepless nights over the course of her travels.

  The nature of her departure didn’t help matters. Haley had thought it best to leave without confronting her Aunt Margie. Her aunt wouldn’t understand her decision to leave Georgetown, and she certainly wouldn’t understand Haley’s decision to promise her hand in marriage to a man she had never met.

  “Welcome!” Claire greeted Haley warmly when she stepped out of the stagecoach. The women embraced, and then Claire linked her arm through Haley’s.

  “Where are your things?” she asked, peering at the rack on top of the stagecoach.

  “I’ve only brought this,” Haley said, indicating the carpet bag she clutched in one hand. Though it was small, it contained all of Haley’s worldly possessions: a few mementos from her parents, including her mother’s Bible, and the few garments that Haley owned.

  “Oh, dear,” Claire remarked, taking the bag from her friend. “We’ll have to work on your wardrobe right away.”

  “Why is that?”

  Claire pulled gently at Haley’s arm, beckoning her down the quiet main street of Livingston.

  Haley remembered from her letters with her friend that Clare was fortunate enough to live in town; her husband owned a store with a shopfront on the main street, and they kept an apartment upstairs. It was spacious, Claire had told her in their letters, but much simpler than what they were accustomed to in Maryland.

  “Well,” Claire said carefully. “Mister Oakley is a very handsome man, and he takes a certain pride in looking after his appearance.”

  “I see,” Haley said, her brow furrowing with thought. “Is he vain?”

  “No!” Claire assured her quickly. “Nothing of the sort. But if his brother’s bride is any indication, then… well, he’ll want a woman who looks after herself, as well.”

  “Oh,” Haley said, biting her lip. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Hunter Oakley, or the moment they would finally meet, all week… but despite all the thoughts racing through her head, she hadn’t once considered whether he’d find her suitably attractive.

  Vanity had never been a major consideration for Haley; working in the bakery, her appearance had been the furthest thing from the forefront of her mind. She knew, from the way men in town stole glances at her with eyes full of lust and sin, that she must be attractive. But beyond that, she had never afforded much thought or interest to how she looked.

  Now, she felt suddenly bashful about her modest gray work dress and the plain braid she wore in her hair.

  “Don’t fret,” Claire assured her quickly. “I’ve got something you can borrow. We’ll have you looking like the future Mrs. Hunter Oakley in no time!”

  Claire kept her promise: no sooner had the women set foot in the apartment above Jordan Grocery, Claire had gone to work on Haley.

  First, she presented Haley with an emerald gown made of silk. Haley had never touched such a luxurious garment with her own two hands, let alone worn something so beautiful! She slipped off her own modest gown, still stained from working in the bakery, and carefully stepped into Claire’s dress.

  The silk felt like heaven against her skin and the color accentuated her pale white complexion. Claire had to help affix the buttons in the back, gathering the bodice tightly around Haley’s curves and, for the first time, accentuating them. The dress had a tapered waist and an impressive bustle, and Haley marveled at the sensation of feeling stylish for the first time in her life.

  “This is too much!” she must have said a dozen times, but Claire assured her that she looked stunning.

  Next, Claire got to work on Haley’s hair. She carefully unwove the braid at the base of Haley’s neck and twisted her long, golden locks into a crown on top of her head. She worked free a few tendrils that framed Haley’s face, and she twisted them around her fingers until they formed perfect ringlets.

  Haley stopped Claire when she reached for a small enamel bowl of powder.

  “I can’t!” she insisted. After years of listening to her Aunt Margie’s criticisms, Haley had been conditioned to think poorly of any woman who wore powder on her face. Only a certain sort of woman wore powder, Aunt Margie maintained, and Haley was adamant that she wouldn’t be that sort of woman.

  Haley had made it a point to avoid face powder; the closest she had gotten was the dust of flour that found itself on the contours of her cheekbones when she was working in the bakery.

  “Trust me,” Claire insisted, and Haley relented, letting her friend dust a thin sheen of white pearl powder over her cheeks with a prickly brush. She put her foot down, however, when Claire tried to crush a bit of red pigment onto the soft parts of her cheeks.

  “I’ll be blushing enough as it is!” she said.

  “Fine,” Claire agreed, then she stood back and marveled at her work.

  In the span of an hour, Haley Douglas had been transformed from a modest bakery worker to a beautiful woman; a beautiful woman who, in just a few hours, would be betrothed to the most eligible bachelor in town...

  FOUR

  Mr. and Mrs. Jordan accompanied Haley to the Oakley Ranch that evening. Haley had to remind herself to breathe as they travelled through empty fields of green grass and crops. She trained her eyes on the mountains on the horizon. She had never seen anything so beautiful and majestic, and she hoped beyond reason that Mr. Hunter Oakley would feel even a fraction of the same awe when his eyes landed on her for the first time.

  The ranch was sprawling and impressive, and at the heart of the land was a well-kept farmhouse. She reconsidered Claire’s words about Hunter being the sort of man who took care of his appearance, and she wondered if perhaps he was vain, after all. Despite her dress and hair, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of doubt and insecurity. Would she be good enough?

  Mr. Jordan helped the women climb out of the stagecoach and onto the soft earth below, and then he led them to the farmhouse’s front porch. Haley climbed the stairs carefully, paying special atte
ntion to hold the hem of Claire’s dress just above the ground.

  Mr. Jordan raised a hand to knock on the front door, but before he could, the door swung open on its hinges and Haley felt her stomach drop. All at once, her eyes met Hunter Oakley’s, and they locked into a stare.

  He was more handsome than she could admit without compromising her dignity, with a head of brown curls and bright green eyes. He wasn’t like the men back east; his skin had a healthy glow from toiling in the sun, and his eyes held hers with a sort of command that she worried wasn’t entirely appropriate.

  Most of all, he looked… surprised.

  “Mr. Oakley,” Haley managed, curtsying politely.

  “Miss Douglas,” Hunter responded, giving her a thoughtful nod. She was almost relieved when he broke eye contact, moving on to greet Mr. and Mrs. Jordan.

  Only when he turned to lead them into his house did Claire glance in Haley’s direction and offer her an excited grin.

  There was an impressive spread of food waiting at the dinner table, as well as several more members of the Oakley family. Hunter ushered his guests into the room, then held back so that he was stood at Haley’s side.

  Their proximity made her heart hammer even harder in her chest, but this time he didn’t glance in her direction. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the faces standing around the table.

  “These are my brothers,” Hunter told her, keeping his face forward. “Lucas, Jared, Thomas… and his wife Ethel.”

  Haley noticed a slight frown tremble along his brow as he finished the introductions, but she ignored it and smiled gratefully, pretending that Hunter’s eyes were on her own rather than on his brother’s wife.

  “It’s so wonderful that you’ve joined us,” Thomas said charmingly, offering a sincere smile.

  They all took their seats. Haley sat between Claire and Ethel, and her future husband sat across the table from her.