Once Upon a Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  I don’t know what love is, or if I’ll ever know. Maybe it’s nothing more than being immensely grateful for what someone has given you, gratitude that bursts inside your chest and spreads through you like a flame. Tonight, Ridge made me feel this way. Around him, I matter for the first time in my life. I feel his deep caring down to the soles of my feet, and I know beyond a doubt that if it came to it, he’d willingly die for me. Although I’d never want that. Never. I love his kisses, the taste of his mouth, and his warm hands on me. If this isn’t love, I think I’ll surely die when love does come.

  A smile crossed her lips as she thought about lying next to him on the bed. If he’d noticed she’d been there, he hadn’t said anything. Yet…her faded ribbon had been lying there in plain view on the bench after she’d looked all over for it.

  What would he do if she announced she wanted to sleep with him all the time? A rush of flutters spread through her and settled in her stomach. Yet she needed to purge herself of all the hurt, anguish, and despair in order to hopefully one day claim her rightful place. Dr. Mary was right. She had to start facing her past in order to reach for that bright future glimmering within sight. She turned to a new page of the notebook and continued.

  I’ve come to realize that there are some people whose brains can’t be manipulated by others. I’m one of them. I always had this knowing deep inside, about how wrong Ezekiel’s and his follower’s beliefs were. No matter how long they held me captive to that life, I wouldn’t, couldn’t, accept any of it as the truth. My brain simply wouldn’t allow me. I suspect my mother can’t buy into their thinking either, although she pretends well. Still, she’ll never get a chance to break free. She’s not strong enough. My father has her too beaten down. There may be some hope for my younger sisters if I can get to them in time. But failure would mean the public whipping post that Ezekiel is so fond of using.

  A shudder rippled through her body. Addie sat there a moment before turning the page to write more. Now that she’d started, all the words she’d held inside for so long spilled out almost faster than she could get them down.

  My father, Ezekiel Jancy, calls himself the New Messiah and heads up a religious order of his own in the town of New Zion, in the rolling hills of central Texas. He became so obsessed with having a son to carry on his work that he turned into a monster and destroyed a young girl’s promising life. I had to do something to stop him, and it cost me dearly.

  Memories so thick she could taste them almost choked her. Her hand shook, and she laid down the pencil, unable to go on. After a few moments, she tore out the last two pages and set them aside until morning. But she left her musings about love in the notebook. No one would ever see those. She put everything away and curled up on the bench under her quilt. But sleep refused to come, her mind dwelling on the sweetness of Ridge’s lips on hers. The promise of more beat in her heart like a drum.

  She was Ridge Steele’s wife, and she wanted to stay where she was safe—in his arms.

  * * *

  The next morning, Ridge woke before dawn. Disappointment flared to find no evidence that Addie had come to their bed. He dressed and went out to milk the cow and feed the horses. He’d no sooner started his chores than the kitchen door opened and Addie joined him in the yard to gather the eggs. To anyone who saw them, he and Addie would look like a normal couple.

  One step forward and two back. He’d have to learn to rejoice in the small steps and take heart in the backward progress, even if it killed him.

  The sky lightened to a nice shade of apricot as the sun readied itself to make an appearance. He loved this time of day and the mysteries it held. He never knew what events would unfold before nightfall. The air was crisp, the fragrant scent of sage whispering against his skin.

  Ridge let his gaze sweep over his and Addie’s property. The kitchen opened into a sizeable back area, the barn sitting about a hundred yards to the right. A small corral hugged the front of the barn where he let the horses exercise. He was proud of what he’d already built.

  Just then, the sun broke low on the horizon, the morning rays bouncing off the red rock of the canyon and flashing along its walls like pure gold. His chest tightened with the beauty.

  Addie stepped from the chicken coop with her basket and into the golden light. The sight stole his breath. Real peace softened her features, and he liked to think she looked happy. Maybe caring for the chickens and cow were familiar chores that she’d missed while in prison.

  She caught his glance and smiled, and his heart tumbled end over end. He stared at her, mesmerized for a long moment, thankfulness tightening his chest before he sighed and lifted the pail of fresh milk. Time to get moving.

  After a hearty breakfast, Ridge took his plate to the dishpan. “Bodie, I’ll put you to work repairing some harnesses and other barn chores you can do sitting down. Stay off that leg.”

  The fifteen-year-old shook back his long hair and frowned. “I don’t need to be coddled. I came to work.”

  “I know that, but for now, you have to go easy. I’m not going to have Dr. Mary coming after me when your leg doesn’t heal.” Ridge nudged Miss Kitty lightly out of the way with the toe of his boot. “Addie and I have to go see the doctor this morning. I’ll leave you armed, Bodie. If anyone comes sneaking around, shoot him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The boy stood, nearly as tall as Ridge when he wasn’t stooping over the crutch. As the boy maneuvered through the door and outside, Addie removed her apron and hurried into the next room.

  “I’ll saddle the horses,” Ridge called after her, but before he could move to the door, she was back. She handed him two pieces of notepaper, her hand shaking.

  “What’s this?” Ridge took them from her and read her neat angled handwriting. The first one told about her father. New Messiah his hind foot! He’d heard of those kinds of radical beliefs. Ridge struggled to tamp down his anger. This wasn’t the time for him to indulge in personal feelings on the matter. This was about Addie and the way she was trusting him with buried secrets.

  He moved to the second torn sheet of paper, and fury grew in his stunned silence. He couldn’t believe the depths to which Ezekiel Jancy’s obsession had seemingly gone, the degradation he’d inflicted. A horrible picture emerged, one that twisted and turned inside him. A public whipping post. For a long moment, he fought to erase the image of Addie being punished for rebellion against such injustice.

  What had she done to help the young girl in her letter?

  Whatever it was, it had landed her in prison. He realized she was waiting for his reaction. He knew beyond a doubt that the happiness of their marriage hinged on what he said next.

  Ridge laid the papers on the table and took her hands. “Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share those things with me. If you truly care for someone, you let them into your life—as you’ve done. I’m very proud of you and what you’ve overcome.” His voice turned raspy with emotion. He kissed her forehead. “You’re my hero. My angel.”

  Addie stepped back and made wild gestures with her arms, then grabbed the paper and wrote: “No! I’m not brave, not strong enough. Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

  “We can argue this point all day, so I’ll drop it, but whatever you did to help that girl was the right thing. Thank God you didn’t listen to that crazy talk and let your father tell you what to think. I’ve heard of zealots like him before.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a loud sigh, wishing he could find the right words to say what he wanted, but they escaped him. Finally, he broke the silence. “Will you show these to Dr. Mary?”

  She pointed to the first one, about her father and nodded. The other had evidently been meant only for Ridge. Baby steps.

  He smiled. “Ready to go hum to some songs?”

  A mischievous grin spread across her face and she scribbled the words “Old Joe Clark.”

  The song
had long been a favorite of his, sung in Hope’s Crossing whenever they gathered at the large outdoor community fire, a tradition the men had started three years ago when they’d first decided to build the old outlaw hideout into a real town.

  Ridge laughed heartily and tweaked her nose. “You do have a sense of humor, my love. If that’s what you want to hum along to, then I’ll move mountains to make it happen.” They strolled arm in arm to the horses, all thoughts of the New Messiah momentarily forgotten.

  Eleven

  Addie emerged from Dr. Mary’s office feeling lighter than she had for years. She could only imagine that it was the songs—they seemed to be unlocking every pent-up thought inside her. She’d shown the doctor the short paragraph she’d written about her father, and Dr. Mary’s reaction had been grim, although she’d tried to hide it.

  “I understand more of what we’re dealing with now,” Dr. Mary had said, patting Addie’s shoulder. “This is good, very good. Write more when you feel like it. It all has to come out and you’ll feel better for it.”

  Probably so, but Addie still resisted delving too deeply into her pain-riddled past and reliving all those horrible days, months, and years.

  The town bustled around her as she stood next to Ridge, warm sunlight on her face banishing the darkness. She pushed aside the unwelcome thoughts and smiled up at him, determined to think of happier things. Like the way his hair hugged the collar of his frock coat, and the muscle that bunched in his jaw when he was deep in thought.

  “You did good today, Addie. I wish you knew how happy you make me.” He put on his hat and adjusted it low over his eyes to block the sun. “I have to go meet a couple at the land office and take them to look at a few pieces of property. Why don’t you stay in town and get acquainted with some of the women?” He paused to watch some riders passing through the town entrance, his gaze narrowed. “It’s a lot safer here than out at the house, and I’d feel better about leaving you on your own.”

  She thought about that for a moment. Yes, she supposed it was time. At her nod, Ridge kissed her cheek and asked her to meet him at the café for lunch. He strode toward his office, whistling as he crossed the square. Addie admired his backside and the handsome figure he made, glad such a man belonged to her. She stood in thought for several minutes, considering her options, then went to ask directions to Eleanor Crump’s place.

  The older woman looked startled to open the door and find her standing there, but she quickly recovered from her shock and stood aside. “Come in, Mrs. Steele.”

  Addie removed the paper and pencil she’d stuck into her pocket in case she needed to talk to someone and wrote: “Please call me Addie.”

  “In that case, please come in, Addie.”

  She entered the tiny house that was little more than a lean-to and found it wonderfully clean. Being poor hadn’t kept Eleanor from taking pride in her home.

  “Can I get you something? Maybe a cup of tea?”

  Addie nodded and sat in one of the two chairs at the small table, her paper in front of her.

  “I’m glad you came by.” Eleanor filled the kettle and put it on to boil. “You and me have something in common, which I’ll tell you about after we’ve gotten better acquainted. It’s not a story to tell today or in one sitting.”

  Curiosity rose. What could she and Eleanor have in common? What had she heard, for heaven’s sake?

  Eleanor pulled out the other chair and pushed back her reddish-brown hair, strands of silver woven through it. The woman had tried to take some pains with her appearance today and it showed, her hair tidy.

  “Don’t worry, dear, no one has been talking behind your back.”

  Surprise swept over Addie. Could Eleanor read her thoughts? She’d heard of people way back in the hills who had such a gift.

  “I can see the questions in your eyes,” Eleanor explained. “The eyes give everything away. I know you can’t speak, but that’s the extent of what I’ve heard. I once lost my voice too. But, as I said, that’s a story for another day.”

  That hint of something more intrigued Addie no end. She wanted to ask a million questions, but she let the older woman set the pace.

  Eleanor put her chair facing Addie and took her hands. “Let’s just sit quietly. There is no place to be or nothing to say. It’s simply us and the here and now. For the next few minutes, just be.”

  A lot could be said for simply “being.” Addie closed her eyes and let her mind drift, listening to the sounds around her—the bird chirping outside the window, the buzzing of bees, the faint laughter of playing children.

  Her heartbeat was steady, and she felt totally at peace.

  The fire crackled inside the stove, and a piece of wood dropped. Contentment settled about Addie like a warm shawl. She had everything she needed, at least for now, and was with a new friend who understood her.

  Somewhere in the quiet, from some unknown place, she saw the truth. Withdrawing so completely had been her way of coping with everything she had no control over. Not speaking had been what she’d needed for a while to help her heal from the horrible things she’d seen and endured.

  But silence had no place in her life now. She wanted to step back into life. The overwhelming desire to talk descended on her.

  Everything became crystal clear. But how could she coax the words back? That was the big question.

  When the kettle whistled, Eleanor made the tea and filled their cups—all without saying a word.

  Other than sitting with Ridge and Bodie the previous night, it was the best hour Addie had spent in a long time. At the end of her visit, she reached for her paper and wrote: “Thank you, Eleanor. I loved the quiet.”

  “Me too, dear. Don’t worry. Your condition is temporary and will change in time. Please come to see me again whenever you want.”

  Addie returned to the center of town, steeped in indecision. It was still too early to meet Ridge, and she wouldn’t go home without him. While she contemplated her next step, Tally Colby saw her and waved. She was carrying a small boy in her arms, and a beautiful woman accompanied her.

  “Adeline, meet Melanie. She’s Tait Trinity’s wife, and a mail-order bride like us.”

  So Melanie had been a sent-for bride too. Addie wondered how many women in the town had been. Melanie was clearly in the family way, and her warm smile brought out twin dimples. “Adeline, I’m so happy to meet you. I missed your wedding due to our nephew Jesse coming down with a fever, but I heard it was lovely.”

  Addie’s nod and smile seemed sufficient. She studied Melanie, wondering about her story. One glimpse of those dimples, and Tait had probably been smitten.

  “Come with me and Melanie. We’re going over to Nora’s to plan our September dance.” Tally’s smile widened, and a far-off look filled her blue eyes. “My Clay is quite fond of dancing, and when I first came here, Dallas Hawk would pull out his fiddle every night after supper and we’d dance up a storm. Now it’s only once a month. I miss the old days.” Tally scanned the town, and when her gaze landed on Clay, her face softened.

  When Addie nodded that she’d come along, Tally shifted the toddler to her other hip. “I don’t think you’ve met my son, Dillon. He’s two and unruly at times.” Tally whispered, “He takes after his father.”

  Addie didn’t know how to react to that, so remained noncommittal.

  Melanie slipped an arm through Addie’s. “I don’t get to meet with the ladies often. Tait and I are raising his twin nephews and small niece. They came to live with us after their parents were killed last year.”

  “I have to say that after a rough patch, they’ve adjusted quite well,” Tally said.

  “They have.” Melanie laughed and showed her dimples again. “There was a time I wanted to strangle them, but I adore those boys and little Becky.”

  Tally wiped Dillon’s nose. “I’m glad you and Tait weathered the storm
. They’re sweet kids, and they needed you.”

  It didn’t matter that Addie couldn’t speak, because the women kept up a running chatter all the way to the Bowdre house. Nora met them at the door and led them inside. She was a pretty woman, with generous curves and an infectious laugh that put Addie at ease. She learned a lot about these women by listening and remembering what Ridge had told her. Tally had once been held against her will in an asylum, and that brought a common bond. And all the women, mail-order brides themselves through Luke Legend’s service, had endured more than their share of trials.

  Nora, Tally, and Melanie were as different as daylight and dark from the women of New Zion. Despite her initial comfort around them, part of Addie wondered what their motives might be for befriending her. Everyone had a motive, some way they tried to protect what was theirs. She’d had to watch every word she said around the women of New Zion lest they report her for an infraction. What did these women of Hope’s Crossing feed off? They seemed truly genuine; still, looks often deceived.

  The cost of trusting could be steep. She had to be careful until she knew them better.

  Once they got Tally’s and Nora’s children settled, out came tea and a plate of cookies.

  Addie envied the glow lighting up Nora’s face. The woman had found her bliss, the one place in all the world where she fit.

  What about Addie’s place? She liked to believe she’d found that with Ridge, but would she be able to hold onto it? How soon would her father find her, drag her back to face what could be her final days? Pray God she was strong enough.

  Nora’s happy laughter at something Tally said sent the dark thoughts fleeing. “Adeline, I’m very happy you could join us.”

  Tally patted her hand. “Me too. We should’ve done this before now.”

  Addie took out her paper. “You’re both so welcoming. Everyone in the town has made me feel like I belong.”

  “That’s because you do.” Warmth in Nora’s voice erased most of Addie’s reservations. These happy women seemed to have no ulterior motivation. They were real.