Brides of Grasshopper Creek Read online

  Mary stumbled and fell back in the upholstered chair with a look of shame across her face. She didn’t seem to know what to do, so Rosanna did it for her.

  She embraced her future mother-in-law with a warm hug and whispered, “Someday we will be the best of friends.”

  When she left the living room and a speechless Mary behind, Rosanna breathed a sigh of relief. A wave of optimism swept over her and she skipped toward the kitchen for a bite to eat.

  In many ways, the meeting had gone extremely well. And she hoped her humility and kindness might prompt the older woman to have some regards for her as the days went by.

  Chapter 12

  That night, sitting on the porch under the starry heavens and the ethereal glow of the silvery moon, Alexander gave Rosanna his grandmother’s heart-shaped ring. As he slipped it on her slender finger, she noticed it twinkle as he set it in place. When he gazed at her with expectation, she whispered, “Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

  He drew her closer and placed a feathered kiss on her cheek, feeling her shiver beside him. “Absolutely. My mother told me tonight that I could not make a finer choice than you. I don’t know what you did or said, but I thank God for his grace and kindness.”

  Rosanna sighed and melted into his embrace with a sense of contentment. It was at that moment she realized she had forgotten about her sleepless nights, and the nightmares that no longer plagued her dreams.

  David’s voice rang out from the adjacent room, and Agatha’s followed with peals of laughter, much to Rosanna’s delight. The shadows had long faded from her brother’s face, and his happiness brought her such joy. He had taken the habit of calling Alexander Pa, and it seemed the name had stuck.

  Rosanna couldn’t imagine how much her life had changed. And she made a mental note to send Gwendolyn a nice thank you letter and a gift.

  “Happy?”

  Rosanna smiled, her heart stirred by Alexander’s tender observation. An endless stream of possibilities lay before her, and she felt humbled and blessed. Thank you, dear Lord, for leading me home.

  When Alexander placed a comforting hand over her shoulders, she basked in the warmth of his touch. It amazed her how carefree she felt in his company, and how much she wanted to become his wife. “Let’s go inside and show everyone my lovely ring.”

  He chuckled and his voice lowered, “Did I tell you our love will last forever?”

  Rosanna’s heart melted in delight. She linked her arm with his elbow and allowed him to lead her through the door. With tear-filled eyes full of faith and hope, she whispered in return, “Forever and a day, my darling. Nothing less will do.”

  THE END

  A Mail Order Bride For Jacob

  Wyoming Frontier Brides

  Charity Phillips

  A Mail Order Bride For Jacob

  Jacob Everett is used to turbulence and shake-ups—the one fact he’s always held true is that everything will change. He remembers this when he has to give up his dream of being a deputy to become a farmhand; and he remembers it when he finds himself turning to personal advertisements to find a bride, instead of pursuing the kind of fairy-tale romance he’s secretly always dreamed of.

  Even though it may not turn out to be a perfect fit, Jacob is ready to brave uncertain seas to find true love.

  Chapter 1

  The wheat was whipping past the windows of the train so quickly that it was all one golden blur—a sea of yellow blades twisting and thrashing together as the huge steam-powered beast barreled past. Cindy blinked and shook her head, taking a deep breath of the cabin air to try to snap herself out of her funk. It was a bright spring day, they were due at their destination any moment, and her legs hadn’t cramped up at all during the trip; she should be thankful for the smooth journey. Luckily, the train had been fairly empty; come to think of it; she’d hardly seen anyone in the compartments as she was strolling up and down the halls, and the dining carts were never full. That meant no chance of losing her niece Abby in a wall of bodies, or apologizing to strangers for her crying spells. Cindy had only run into one person she knew during their trek from New York, and most of the passengers were mail order brides, like her; a few were widows coming from burying their spouses, judging by their garb and the handkerchiefs they always had clutched between their fingers. Cindy tried to give them space, not wanting to interrupt their mourning. She remembered being poked and prodded at after her sister died, and how much it infuriated her to be monitored or even spoken to while in the depths of her grief.

  Avoiding people wasn’t always possible, though; Cindy had to serve customers at the pie shop because her sister Rebecca had passed, and her brother-in-law Phillip had eagerly taken over the manager position, insisting it was too much work for a sixteen-year-old. She knew that it was just because he’d been jealous of how much work Rebecca trusted her with, but she hadn’t dared to bring it up.

  That had been six years before, and she and Abby had ridden a train just like this one to go to upstate and bury Rebecca, albeit much more crowded and a little slower. Their little pie shop hadn’t done as well back then, so they could only afford to buy tickets for the cheapest cars. If she’d run into anyone she knew then, she wouldn’t have known it, because her anxiety and melancholy mood were wrapped around her so thick that she could hardly recognize her own face in the mirror some days. Having Abby along to grip her hand the whole way helped.

  It had been just the two of them then, because Phillip stayed behind to run the pie shop. He’d run the pie shop so well with Cindy’s help that they’d expanded and opened another pie shop in a neighboring city. Now, Phillip was hardly ever around, even to see Abby. He only stopped by to pick up money or flirt with their baker, and occasionally to drop off presents. Then he’d edged Cindy out of the shop, insisting it was time for her to marry and move on.

  “Rebecca wouldn’t have wanted you to stay a spinster,” he’d said to her one night. He had just dropped off a wooden rocking horse for Abby, forgetting that she’d outgrown most toys like this four or more years ago. “I think Abby would benefit from seeing you get out there, too. Let a girl see what she can accomplish, even if she wasn’t born with…skills.”

  Cindy suppressed the rage that swelled up whenever Phillip spoke to her condescendingly and focused on staying civil. “People aren’t born with skills, they develop them, Phillip. And I’m fine.”

  “I’m hiring a new baker,” Phillip continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “She’s going to take some of your hours, and she’ll be taking over when you get married.”

  “I’m not—”

  “And I’ll be able to take care of Abby more,” Phillip said, “because I won’t be so worried about you.” He smiled broadly and watched her reaction.

  She’d fallen silent, then; Cindy had been begging Phillip to take a more active interest in Abby’s life for years. Abby felt her father wasn’t fond of her, and it was wearing away at her confidence. Cindy couldn’t bear to see it, and Phillip knew that about her. Cindy glared at the wiry little man, wondering what her sister had ever seen in him, or why Abby wanted his affection so badly. He could be charming, true, but Cindy had seen who he really was, so that charm would never work on her again. Phillip rarely wasted it on her, anyway.

  “Fine,” she said bluntly. “I’ll get married and give you control of this shop, like you obviously always wanted. So that you’ll finally show your daughter the love and attention she deserves.”

  “Like you always wanted,” Phillip said, and his smile made Cindy’s pale skin crawl.

  It turned out he had been lying, anyway; he really wanted to slowly push her out of the shop over the course of a year and a half so he could install a new manager and head off to Canada. He’d left a cursory note explaining that he was learning new baking techniques from a French pastry chef, but Cindy didn’t believe that he was doing anything other than what he’d always snuck off to do before: gamble, drink, and lie to women to get what he wanted from
them.

  Cindy was furious, and she wondered if there was any way to go after him; but she was due to leave in a month, and it would likely take longer than that to catch up with the slimy creature. She told Abby that her father had to go take care of his own parents, inventing a sick mother for him and hoping the girl would believe her. Abby had sat on her bed, hugging her knees and staring at Cindy with her strawberry blonde hair and sky blue eyes calmly until she finished speaking.

  “Auntie Cindy, I already know Daddy went to Canada.”

  Cindy had gasped, clutching at the cameo around her neck nervously. “What? How could you know that?”

  “I heard him talking about it with the baker last night, before he left,” she said, nonplussed. “He thought I was at upstairs in bed, but I was down there in the next room eating the left-over jam tarts.”

  “Oh,” Cindy said, her heart still hammering in her chest. “I’m sorry, Abby. I never wanted this for you. And I never wanted to show you this side of your father.”

  “Auntie, I know Daddy’s not…perfect.” Abby said. “I know he does bad things. I just wanted to know that he still loved me, and that he did good things, too.” She dropped her eyes as they started to tear up.

  Cindy swept the girl into her arms, feeling her heart break in two as she cried. “You were the one good thing he ever made,” she whispered. “So there’s got to be something good in there.”

  Abby sat beside her now in her favorite green dress, holding Cindy’s hand and chattering on about the birds she saw at the last stop. They looked so much alike that people assumed they were sisters, and Cindy was happy to let them believe it. Her free hand tugged on her golden braid, tied with a blue ribbon to match her eyes and her dress.

  Jacob, her betrothed, knew what she looked like, but she couldn’t help but feel nervous when she got dressed that morning; would trying to make her eyes pop seem like she was trying too hard? Cindy really was excited to meet him—he sounded like a refreshing change of pace from the usual dullards and deviants that tried for her hand in the past. He was funny and fair, with a soft streak wider than the Nile River and an enormous sweet tooth. He had poor vision and he couldn’t aim to save his life, but he had two green thumbs and the best produce in his little Wyoming county. Cindy had even written to him and asked if Abby could come along, insisting that they break off the engagement if he was uncomfortable with the idea without any hard feelings to worry about.

  Nonsense, he’d written; the more the merrier. I’ve sent another ticket with this envelope, and I look forward to meeting dear Abby when you both arrive. I think you underestimate my fondness for you, Miss Cindy.

  But that wasn’t quite true. After five months of writing each other each week, sometimes two or three times, Cindy knew that Jacob was quite fond of her, and she was nearly as fond of him. But she couldn’t allow herself to feel fully invested until she met the man, and maybe not even until she was married. There was a natural need for resistance in her, formed from years of having her hopes built up—and up—and up, only to be pushed back down the precarious mountain of lies she’d been unwittingly led to the top of. Cindy was tired of being blinded and bruised, but she was also tired of never being surprised. Jacob could be the man to surprise her. Even Abby seemed to think so; when Cindy scoffed at the idea of falling head over heels for a farmer, Abby said: it’s Wyoming, isn’t it? It’s full of farmers. Some of them have to be dreamy.

  “Auntie!” Abby shouted, leaping to her feet and pointing out the window. “I see it! I see it!”

  The station was home to the biggest group of buildings they’d seen in an hour. The depot was nondescript, a modest-sized shack for ticket selling and taking surrounded by a few other smaller buildings. People were already filtering to the front of the train, so Cindy grasped Abby’s hand and pulled her out into the hall, smiling as the girl bobbed and bounced excitedly behind her. The station was already swirling with travelers and people waiting to receive their loved ones from the train. Jacob said he’d be waiting with a red rose in hand—his idea, and a romantic one at that.

  As they disembarked, a porter set their luggage beside them and then hurried off to pluck more bags from the train. Abby lifted her trunk with her skinny arms, her head moving side to side in an effort to find the stocky dark-haired man she’d seen in the photographs he’d sent, standing and clutching his red rose. There were no people meeting his description in sight, however.

  “Let’s stand by the street,” Cindy suggested, lifting both of her trunks in each hand with some difficulty. She dropped one immediately and yelped, jumping back before it could land on her foot. The other clattered to the ground soon after, and she swore under her breath.

  “Need some help, Miss?” asked a hesitant voice behind her.

  Cindy turned to find a tall man with curly black hair and a dusty long-sleeved shirt holding out his two work-roughened hands. He was smiling somewhat stiffly at both of them and glancing nervously toward Abby, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open in shock.

  Cindy flushed, embarrassed by her little niece’s peculiar behavior. “Yes, please,” she said. “We’re just going to stand by the curb. Thank you kindly.” Then, as the man lifted the trunks with ease, she turned to her little niece and hissed, “Abby, don’t stare!”

  “But he looks just like the cowboy from the posters!” Abby said, her blue eyes wide with excitement. “Diamond Desmond! Doesn’t he look just like him?”

  They’d seen the man’s posters all over New York when they used to take trips into the city, advertising for shows further west. It was true that the man bore a certain resemblance: a square jaw, boyish black curls, dark brown eyes that glimmered in the sun. But this was Johnson County, Wyoming, and that awkward man was no cowboy.

  “Yes, but I don’t think that’s him,” Cindy said insistently. “Now don’t stare so hard, little dove.”

  “Okay, little duck,” Abby grumbled, and inserted her hand into Cindy’s. Cindy smiled, knowing that hearing her nickname was a good sign. Abby was adjusting to the trip far better than she’d hoped; she hoped her good mood would carry on a little longer, at least until they got to their new home.

  The curly-haired man turned and smiled at Cindy as they walked up next to their luggage, but he was still glancing nervously at Abby, who couldn’t seem to stop looking at him despite her earlier promise. Cindy wasn’t surprised, but the man didn’t seem upset by it, just perplexed.

  “I’m Richard Greene,” the man said, not quite meeting her eye. “You girls just moving into town?”

  “I’m Cindy Hawkins, and yes we are,” Cindy said, happy that he seemed willing to ignore Abby’s intense gazing. “I’m meeting Jacob Everett.”

  Richard looked surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Jacob’s a fine young man,” the man said, regarding her thoughtfully. “Guess you two are getting married?”

  Cindy laughed, startled by his blunt phrasing. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

  “Pardon, but I thought you seemed too young to have a daughter, so I assumed you were sisters.”

  “Almost,” Cindy said, raising her voice as a few chattering men bustled past them. Abby stepped close to her, and Cindy put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m twenty-two, so I am a little young for a 7-year-old daughter. This is my little niece, Abby.”

  “I think you’ll both be happy here,” he said, his faint smile back. “Nice place. Quiet, lots of room to spread out. And a good school,” he added, his gaze briefly flickering to Abby, who abruptly averted her eyes and started pulling on her pigtails anxiously. “I was just coming from there myself. My wife teaches there, and I know she’ll have some games planned for her new student.”

  “That makes me feel a little less nervous,” Cindy said, laughing to herself at Abby’s shyness. It was typical for her to switch between extroversion and shyness these days, and she knew the best course was to let her recover and pretend she hadn’t noticed. Her mood changes were sudden but predictable now, a
nd Cindy was grateful. “You didn’t happen to see a stagecoach pull up, did you? On your way here?”

  “I did,” Richard said, and his expression soured. “Nearly ran me over, in fact. Thought his driving would get better once the frost thawed.” He blinked and seemed to let his thoughts overtake him, and Cindy worried that he would never come out. Then he shook his head roughly to clear it, exactly as she had on the train that morning. “He’s parked just behind the mail depot, over there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Greene,” Cindy said, looking at her cumbersome luggage in despair. “Would you mind—?”

  “Of course!” Richard lifted Cindy’s trunks and tucked Abby’s under one arm, embarrassed that he hadn’t offered in the first place. Cindy watched his cheeks rouge and his eyes blink rapidly, wondering if he was unused to speaking to women, or perhaps people in general. She was going to ask him about himself, but wondered if that might seem too strange. Before she could make up her mind, they were before the carriage, and he was setting down their bags.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawkins,” Richard said, his smile stiff as he gazed in her direction, apparently unable to meet her eye. “I expect I’ll be seeing you around soon.”

  “Of course. And thank—” Richard, however, was already striding away as though the seat of his pants was catching fire. Abby was staring at his back as he retreated, apparently as confused as Cindy was. They looked at each other for a moment, nearly identical smiles growing on their faces.

  “He didn’t seem anything like a cowboy,” Abby said finally. “But, it’s Wyoming, isn’t it?” The next moment, they both dissolved into giggles.