The Gambler’s Bride – A Clean Western Romance

Chapter One

The sun was burning brightly in the Virginia sky. Caroline was grateful she had thought to wear a pretty hat with a wide brim. It kept her face from burning. She walked briskly down the sidewalk, anxious to get home. Her shoes were beginning to wear and she hadn’t thought to ask her mother to purchase her a new pair while she was out.

She preferred to choose her own shoes anyway. She would just go past the store on her way to work in the morning and stop for a pair. She passed several young men who were walking in the opposite direction. They all looked at her and smiled. She smiled back.

She could see the differences in their smiles and wondered if they realized they did that. She passed them every day on her way home. One of them was tall and thin and though he wore a shirt and tie, he didn’t look like he was coming from an office. The two with him were dressed in work clothes. They were shorter than their companion and were almost always covered in dirt. It was an odd sight until Caroline became used to seeing them.

Over the last six months or so of passing them every day, she had noticed that they all looked at her in different ways. The tall one greeted her with a quick nod of his head and half a grin. One of the other boys gave her a leering look and his eyes scanned her from head to toe every day. The third was the one she liked. He looked friendly, his smile was warm and genuine and she saw a gentleman in him.

The three never spoke to her and she never said anything to them.

She was almost home, turning onto her street and walking to the third house on her left. She didn’t look up at it as she went through the gate and down the sidewalk, missing all the new flowers that had recently been planted and the artfully shaped sculptures and fountains that dotted the wide green yard. The groundskeeper was a master at his craft. But Caroline didn’t notice.

She went up the steps to the front porch, crossed it and pulled open the storm door first. She went through both doors and immediately stopped to the sound of upset voices in the den. She made a beeline for it, dropping her light shawl, which she had regretted taking in the first place and her hat on the foyer table.

“Who’s there?” She asked as she went, not recognizing the voices. She was surprised when she turned into the den to see it was her family that was upset, not some visiting stranger. Raised voices were not common in Caroline’s home. Her parents were extremely calm people, upstanding citizens in their small town.

“Caroline!” Her little sister Dorothy came running over to her and threw her arms around her middle.

“Ooof, Dottie, what’s the problem?” Caroline attempted to disentangle herself from her sister’s grip, but Dottie was too upset.

“Oh, Caroline, that’s it. We’re done. Nothing left. It’s all gone! Oh, Caroline!”

Caroline looked up at her parents in confusion, but they weren’t much help. Her mother was holding a glass that had some type of liquor in it, probably brandy. Another wave of shock went through Caroline. What in heaven’s name could have happened that would make her mother drink the brandy that had been in the cupboard ever since Caroline could remember.

“Please someone tell me what’s going on here?” She said, taking her sister’s face in between her hands and giving her kisses on her forehead. She hugged her and Dottie finally released her.

“It’s a terrible situation for us, Caroline.” Her brother replied. He was standing with their father next to the huge bay window, staring out over the land, where their cows and horses were.

“What is?”

“We’re bust! Got no money left! We’re done!” His words came out forceful and he didn’t even look at her. She shook her head.

“I am afraid I don’t understand, David. What does that mean?”

Her father was the first to look at her. His round face was red with anger and frustration. When he spoke, she knew the underlying pain in his voice was real. The anger he felt wasn’t directed at her, she could see that. “Mr. Stapleton has up and stole all the profits from our restaurant for the last three years. He’s been fudging the books, lining his pockets with stolen cash for a long time. Now he has disappeared and no one knows where he or the money he stole is at.”

Caroline frowned. “I don’t understand. How can that be? Is there anything you can do? Do you know where he is?”

Her father shook his head. “I don’t know where he is. There is nothing I can do. He has pulled off a scam that will ruin this family. We can’t keep the business going for long with no money behind it. We would have to start from scratch with a corner food stand.”

Fear ran down Caroline’s spine. The restaurant had been her family’s life. They all worked there, they were comfortable because of it and the plan was to continue running it for the next hundred years if possible. Without it, there was only her job.

Her secretary’s job.

She looked around herself at the furnishings and other luxuries she hadn’t seen before. Her mind even took her to the front yard, where there were beautiful sights to be seen. This would all disappear.

Her breath caught and her mind began to race. There had to be some way to prevent this from happening.

“Father,” she said. “What will we do? Do you have a plan?”

He stomped to the couch and dropped down as if he had given up on life. “Right now, I’m too angry to think of one. Surely there will be one. But no, I have no plan for now. We will have to do something.”

“Can we get a loan from the bank?” Caroline sat next to him and put one hand on his knee. “Papa, we have to do something! We can’t just give up.”

He nodded. “Oh, we might not have a choice, daughter. Our loans at the bank are already in place from the expansion this summer.”

Her heart fell into her stomach. She had forgotten about the expansion. They had been considering opening another restaurant, as well. She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. The weight of it all gave her a headache.

She lowered her head to her hands, trying to think. No loan from the bank. No money in profits. Very little in petty cash kept on hand in the restaurant safe. What would they do?

Dorothy began crying loudly. “Oh, papa. We will be living on the street.”

He shook his head. “No. That won’t happen, Dottie. We will get through this. God is on our side.”

“On our side?” Dorothy stood up, her small face pale and thin. Red rings had formed around her eyes and she shook her long brown curls around as she spoke. She clenched her fists and stomped her foot. “If he was on our side, then why did this happen? We haven’t done anything wrong to deserve this! We go to church every Sunday and all that. Why would he do this to us? Why didn’t he stop Mr. Stapleton??”

David was the one who replied to their sister, looking at her, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his pants, his suit jacket open and pushed back behind his elbows. “That’s not the way he works, Dottie. You’re just too young to understand it.”

“Well, I don’t understand it! I don’t understand it!” She stomped her foot again. “Mr. Stapleton is the Devil! He’s the Devil!”

With that, she turned on her heel and ran out the door, weeping. David turned back to the window. Her mother began to cry. Caroline stood up.

“I’ll go after her. I will talk to her.”

She was out the door only a few minutes after her sister and could see when she opened the door that Dottie was already at the barn. She was going for her horse. Caroline had to get to her before she went riding off. She wasn’t in the mood for a horse race.

“Dottie, wait!” She called out. Her sister stopped at the door of the barn, turned back to look at her and then dropped to her knees, crying. Caroline ran to her and dropped to her knees next to her, wrapping her in her arms tightly. “Sshhh. It’s going to be okay, Dottie. It really is.”

“No. This is too much. We can’t run the restaurant with no money. You heard what Daddy said.”

“I did. But you have to trust that things are going to work out the way they should. There is always a blessing on the horizon.”

Dottie shook her head, covering her face with her small hands. “No, Caroline. This is too much. This is too much. God hates us.”

“Dottie, don’t say that. You know that isn’t true. He has blessed us tremendously all through our lives. There are dark times, too. You can’t expect all sunshine and roses all of your life.”

“Why not?” Dottie was just being unreasonable. Caroline could tell that even her young sister could see that. “I want sunshine and roses. I don’t want to be desolate and poor. Where will we live when they take the house? Why is God doing this to us?”

“Dottie, this isn’t the work of God. This is the work of evil. It was evil and deception that caused Mr. Stapleton to do what he’s done.”

“But why did God allow it to happen to us? We are good people!”

“He doesn’t exactly allow these things to happen. He just takes what’s bad and makes something good out of it. This is a fractured world, Dottie, it’s imperfect and there are bad people who don’t know or care about following God’s laws or even moral laws.”

Dottie snorted.

“Please don’t believe otherwise, Dottie, just because you are in a bad place. You can’t lose faith because he is going to come through for us. There will be a way.”

“Lots of people lose their money and never recover.”

“Lots of people don’t know God. When you have to start out all over, you have to trust that he knows what he’s doing and that he’s there with you through the storm.”

Dottie became quiet, her tears stopped. She was thinking about Caroline’s words. She didn’t really see what God could do at this point since he didn’t give money out like a bank. She looked up at her sister’s eyes.

“Do you really think things will work out just because we go to church every week?”

Caroline smiled softly. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, Dottie. I’m talking about faith.” She put her finger on her sister’s chest just above her heart. “It’s in here. That’s where you have faith. And if you have it, you will have peace, too. Trust in him. He will give you peace to get through this.”

Again, Dottie was quiet, staring out over the land. “I don’t want to leave here, Caroline.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t either. We will have to see what happens. But right now, we really need to be strong for mama and papa. Do you agree?”

After a moment, Dottie nodded. “Okay, Caroline. I’ll pray on it and maybe he will make me feel better and bring someone who will give Daddy a lot of money and everything will be okay.”

“That’s the spirit, honey. You pray and we’ll see what happens.”

Chapter Two

When Caroline woke up the next morning, her first thought was that she wanted to go back to sleep. She didn’t want what was happening to happen and her anxiety level was rising. She swung her legs over the side and sat there for a moment, thinking.

She was just twenty and had concentrated on her family’s business and her secretary job since she was 17. She had only one boyfriend in her life so far. He had left with his family the year before and she had missed him ever since. She’d had no love interests since then and hadn’t really been looking. She was always busy with work, her family or the restaurant.

She pulled on her robe and went down the stairs, smelling the strong smell of fresh coffee. That meant her father and brother were either already up or about to. She and her sisters didn’t drink coffee.

She pushed open the door to the kitchen and saw her mother at the table, crying. When her daughter came in, Anna tried to stop, wiping her tears with a tissue. “Oh. Good morning, Caroline.”

“Good morning, mama. Are you all right?”

Her mother didn’t answer, just held in a new batch of tears. She shook her head.

Caroline went to her and leaned to put her arms around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, mama. Something will change this situation and make it right again.”

“I hope you are right, Caroline.” Anna got up and went to the stove. She stood there cracking eggs into the pan and moving a spatula around to scramble them. Caroline wondered how many she was going to put in the pan when she didn’t stop adding them. She went to the stove and took the egg batch from her mother and stopped her from her cooking.

“Mama, you must calm down. You must have faith. Something will make this turn around. I just know it.”

“I can’t imagine what will save us, dear.”

Caroline sighed. “God will provide, mama.”

Her mother only stirred the eggs around in the pan, listening to them sizzling as they cooked. She added some butter and continued stirring. “Yes,” She said, finally, in a calmer voice. “I do believe that.”

Caroline set the eggs in the refrigerator and turned back to her mother. “Good. You know, that’s gonna be the biggest batch of eggs you’ve made for just this family. There’s no way we will eat them all.”

Her mother didn’t reply. Caroline went to the table and sat down, pouring herself a glass of water first. She pulled her father’s newspaper to her and read the headlines. She pulled the paper to her when she saw the headline. New president of the United States had been elected. It was supposed to be a good thing for the country. They would see.

“Did you see this?” She asked, pushing the newspaper toward him.

“I just got up, Caroline,” He answered, nodding at his mother when she set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Thank you, mama.”

“Look at it.”

He pulled the paper to himself and read the headline. “Well good. That’s what this country needs. I’m glad.” He said, pulling it closer and reading the article, unfolding the paper as she had done to read the whole article. “It’s a good thing.”

“I agree.”

“Did you see this, mother?” David pulled the top paper from the rest and left it there on the table. He stood up and went to his mother, who took the paper from him.

Caroline looked down at the paper still on the table. She pulled it to her and read through the ads while they remarked on the new president. When her sister and father came in, they were notified of the event immediately. For a while, their personal problems were almost forgotten.

Caroline sat at the table, reading through the ads while they talked. There were jobs open and obituaries displayed there. One particular set of ads caught her eye and she slowed her scanning. There were men in the West looking for brides.

It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about or considered. She barely knew such a thing existed. None of them looked particularly enticing until she came to the second to the last.

Well-to-do casino owner looking for bride from the West. It said. Intelligent, kind-hearted woman requested. Any age.

Her mind began to spin. He had money. She rolled the possibilities around in her head. She looked up at her family, noticing they had their mind taken off their problem. She didn’t want to bring it back up.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell them about it at all. It was something she would need to consider herself. It was her whose life would change drastically. She couldn’t imagine being away from her family and the business. But sacrifices would need to be made. And if that’s what it took to save her family from ruin, she would do it.

She took the sheet from the others and folded it up. Her robe had a convenient small pocket on one side and she slid it in to hide it. She would think about it some more later.

They sat around the table eating breakfast and discussing the world as it was. They didn’t discuss their financial situation at all. Caroline was glad. Even Dottie seemed in better spirits than the day before. They looked hopeful and happy. The way she wanted them to be.

She got dressed for work in a hurry, brushing her hair and pulling it back into a ponytail. Her face and hands were clean and she rubbed a cloth over her teeth, hoping it would make them a little cleaner. She smiled at herself and was satisfied.

Before she left, she pulled the paper from the pocket of her robe, unfolded it and looked at it. The thought of going across the country and starting a new life was unnerving and discomforting. She wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Would she ever see her family again? Even if she went, there was no guarantee that the man would help her family’s finances. What would she have to do to convince him?

The thoughts that ran through her mind made her feel even worse about the situation. She swallowed hard and lowered the paper to her lap. She stared at the wall in front of her. It might be the only solution.

She didn’t have time to think about it long. The situation was desperate. She decided to take the day to decide, got up and went out the door.

Before the day was through, she had decided. It was the only way to save her family. She walked back from work the same way she always did but this time the trip was a little different. When she passed the three boys, the friendly one stopped as she went by. The other two continued on.

“Hello,” He said with a smile.

She stopped in surprise. “Hello.”

“My name is Mark.” He held out his hand.

“I’m Caroline,” She responded, taking his hand to shake.

“I’ve seen you every day for months. I have wanted to say hello for just as long. Are you coming from work?”

“Yes, I work as a secretary for a clothing company.”

“Do you enjoy your job?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“That is good to hear.”

“And you?”

“My brother and I work constructing buildings.”

“And the other man you walk with?”

“Boss.”

“Oh.”

He smiled at her. “I am glad to learn your name.”

“Good to know yours, Mark.”

He took a few steps backward to indicate he needed to leave. “I gotta catch up with them. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Perhaps.”

They nodded at each other and she turned to walk away. Before she reached her street, she turned into the post building. She paused at the door and turned back to look down the road, even though the men were long gone. Why did he choose to speak to her today?

Her heart torn, she opened the door and went in.

She was nervous as she wrote out a response to the ad. The clerk was eyeing her in a strange way. He knew her, she often came in to get the mail for her family. She had seen him here nearly every time, convinced he must be the only one who worked there. She knew he knew what she was doing and it made her even more anxious.

She handed the response to the clerk. He took it, looked at it and then at her. She could feel him judging her as he looked at her. She lifted up her chin and tilted her head to challenge him to say something.

“That will be five cents,” He said, setting the paper she’d given him to the side. She dug out five pennies from her bag and gave them to him.

“When will the letter be sent?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Do you know when it will arrive in Arizona?”

“Should be near the end of next week, I’d say. If you want it there sooner, you have to send a telegraph.”

“No. I will wait.”

“As you wish.” He turned away as if he was dismissing her.

She didn’t say anything and turned back to the front door.

As she walked home, she thought about Mark. What a coincidence. He starts talking to her the day she decides to leave and travel all the way across the country, probably never to return.

Though if he was wealthy, perhaps he would be kind enough to send her home for the holidays. Or maybe he would want to come along, too. Maybe he would be a kind and generous man who would take care of her the rest of her days?

Or maybe he was looking for a new housekeeper or a workhorse.

She shook her head and laughed softly under her breath. A wealthy man wasn’t going to need a wife to be a workhorse. He could pay anyone he wanted to do work for him. She debated whether she wanted to tell her family. Should she warn them that she was leaving? Surely, she couldn’t just disappear. She had to tell them. She had to tell them tonight.

She helped her mother prepare dinner and even set the table for the family. While she set the plates down, she noticed her mother watching her. She stopped and looked at her. “What is it, mother?”

“You are very helpful tonight. Is everything okay?”

Caroline smiled. “Yes, of course.” She shook her head and went about what she was doing.

When the family was all seated and they gave thanks for the food, her mother stood to fill the plates.

Caroline debated when she should tell them – before or after they ate. They seemed comfortable, free from the problem that was haunting them. She waited for the right time.

The time came when David spoke up, revealing what they were all thinking. “Dad, have you thought anything more about our financial problem?”

The family fell quiet. Dottie moaned a little and lowered her head, sitting back in her chair.

“I think I have a solution.” Caroline spoke up. They all looked at her. Dottie’s eyes were wide. She looked at them all and tried to smile. “I have answered an ad for a bride to go to the West. There is a wealthy man there who placed the ad I responded to.”

She recognized shock on their faces. Her announcement had rendered them speechless.

“I know it’s a surprise. I didn’t even think of such a thing until I saw the ad in the paper today. I…think it’s the only thing we can do at this point.”

“But…we’ll never see you again,” Dottie said, her voice weak. Caroline could see she was about to burst into fresh tears.

She got up and went to her sister, who stood up to meet her. She wrapped her arms around Dottie and held her close.

“Of course you will,” She said. “He has a lot of money. I’ll come back often. And if I am able, I will ask him to help our restaurant.”

The rest of her family got up and surrounded her.

“It’s going to be all right,” She said, softly, feeling surrounded by their love. “You will see.”

Chapter Three

Caroline read the letter from the man, George O’Doyle, as she rode on the train. He sounded very businesslike. She wondered if he had a kind heart. She wondered if he was interested in what was best for the bride he had sent for or if he was just trying out something new.

Marriage was serious business. She felt it was, anyway. It was a bond between a man, woman, and God. She wondered if he felt that way, too. She hoped so. There was no mention of his religious beliefs in the letter. He described his house, which was apparently massive and mentioned that he owned a casino and several restaurants in the state. He traveled a lot, to keep track of his businesses. The post was not fast enough, he remarked. Plus, he wanted to see how the businesses were being run with his own eyes. He wanted to know all of his employees and make sure they were being rewarded for hard work.

Her eyes stuck on the word “restaurants”. She was impressed that he took the time to comment that he wanted to know his employees were taken care of. That was how her father had always run his business. He gave incentives to his employees so that they would stay and work hard for him. In her initial letter, she had said that she worked in a restaurant and as a secretary without saying that it was her father’s restaurant. That might have given him more of a reason to choose her. It had apparently worked.

She did tell him her family owned a business and that she was looking to start a new life. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She glanced to the side and looked at the newspaper sitting beside her on the bench. More headlines about the president. His first month in office had been a success so far. He was liked.

She looked back at the letter, scanning his handwriting. It was elegant and legible. She had no trouble reading it. That had to be from all the business he wrote. She lowered the letter to her lap and looked out the window at the passing scenery. It would be a while before she got there. She decided a nap would be best so that she wouldn’t be too tired when she got there. The motion of the train would help her sleep, she was sure.

A few hours later, she woke with a start, opening her eyes wide awake. She pushed herself up from the cushion she had put under her head and looked out the window. It certainly didn’t look like Virginia.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked one of the other passengers in a soft voice. He looked up from his book.

“I believe we are in Arizona. Where are you going?”

“Flagstaff.”

“That should be the next stop. Good thing you woke up.”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

She waited patiently, just gazing out the window. When the attendant came to announce the next stop, she began to gather her things. She patted her hair down and put her bonnet on. She started to pull on her coat when the young man who had spoken to her said, “You won’t need a coat. It’s not cold out here. You have never been here in Arizona before?”

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s plenty warm here. You won’t want to wear too much. You may overheat and that would be bad for your health.”

She nodded this time. “All right. Thank you for the advice.”

He nodded back. “Anytime, young lady. Enjoy your stay in Arizona.”

“Thank you very much.”

She stood up when the train stopped.

The platform was quite empty. She was one of a handful of people who stepped off the train. She immediately spotted George O’Doyle. He was an outstanding man, his red hair, and stout figure a sight among the rest. He was dressed in clothes that looked new and held himself up straight. He held his hat in his hand and when she looked at him, he didn’t look away.

She smiled and he smiled back, taking steps toward her. She picked up her bag and went toward him.

“You are Caroline?”

She nodded. She liked his voice. It was friendly. She was glad of that.

“And you are George.”

His smile widened and she could see straight teeth in his mouth. She wondered what he did to keep them so clean. She hoped he would let her in on his trick because her parents’ methods had never made her teeth as clean as she wanted them.

He put out his hand and she shook it, politely. Then she curtsied to him and he laughed.

“Well now that the formalities are done, shall we go? Are you hungry? We can stop for food if you are.”

“I am definitely hungry,” She said. “I would love something good to eat.”

“We’ll go to my restaurant in town. You can have anything on the menu and as much of it as you want.”

Her stomach grumbled appreciatively and she looked up at him as they walked.

“I think my stomach just thanked you.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome, Caroline’s stomach.”

She laughed with him and felt more comfortable than she had expected. He was several inches taller than her, with a broad chest and his jeans fit him well. She pressed her lips together.

“I got this for you,” He said, holding out a small folded fabric fan to her. She spread it out to look at the picture painted on it. It was a field of yellow with a great many colorful butterflies flittering around.

“This is beautiful, George! Thank you so much!”

He looked pleased that she liked it and nodded. “You’re welcome. I want to make you feel as much at home here as possible. You’re going to need this because it’s going to be a while before you need a coat or jacket. It can get a little chilly here in the evenings and at night, but you won’t typically need a coat like you would in Virginia.”

She noticed almost immediately that everyone in town showed George a lot of respect. They deferred to him in the street and greeted him in friendly voices. His response was always, “How are ya?” in a loud voice without waiting for an answer as he went on.

As they drove through the town in a lovely carriage that didn’t look like any of the others, she looked around her, taking in the incredible difference she saw from her hometown. The first thing she noticed what that it was very dusty. Very dusty. There weren’t very many women here and none that she saw were dressed like her.

Then again, she was a stranger here. She assumed she would quickly assimilate, wearing the same light dresses she saw all around her. There were more stores and shops here than she expected. She saw a saddle shop and a blacksmith and several other places that were hard to find in Virginia. The main road was crushed rocks mixed in with the dirt. There were side streets off of the main road that seemed to stretch on for miles, heading off into the distant mountains. Small cottages and shacks lined the roads with plenty of land in between them.

The carriage rocked back and forth as they rode. She was jostled a little and grabbed the window of the door.

“You all right?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you.”

“We are almost there. You’ll find that it doesn’t take long at all to get around in a carriage.”

“It’s certainly much smaller than my hometown.”

“Were there a lot of people there?”

“Oh yes.” She nodded, looking back out at the passing shops. She saw a sign on the one they were approaching that hung out so that passersby could see what it said.

O’Doyle’s Restaurant.

She didn’t think that was very creative. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

“All right, here we are.” He got out when the carriage came to a stop and held his hand out to her. She took it and stepped down. She looked back up at the sign above her head. It also said, “best food in Flagstaff” under the name.

If it wasn’t the best food, it certainly had an atmosphere that made up for it. The inside was lit up with gas lamps. The tables in the middle of the room were round and had soft cushioned chairs to sit in. They looked to be made of deep mahogany wood. The sides of the restaurant were lined with shiny wooden tables with chairs for four people on either side. They were also cushioned.

There was a bar at the end of the room, with a bartender behind it. He looked up when they came in and lifted one hand. “Hello, George!” He called out.

The two of them walked to the bar.

“Hello, Sam. It’s good to see you today. How have you been?”

“Doing well, sir. We’ve been doing good business, too, no problems there.”

“That’s good to hear, Sam, good to hear.” George nodded. “I’d like to introduce Caroline. She has come all the way from Virginia to be a companion for me.”

Sam turned impressed eyes to Caroline and she could see that he approved. The corners of her lips raised in a soft smile.

“Hello there, Caroline. It’s good to meet you. I hope you enjoy it here in Arizona. Virginia is nothing like this.”

“So I have noticed.” She nodded. “But I like it so far.”

“Good to hear!”

She could see George smiling in her peripheral vision. It gave her a good feeling in her chest.

“I think you’ll like ol’ Red here, too,” Sam said with a smirk, looking at his boss. “He’s one of a kind that’s for sure!”

“Hey now. That doesn’t sound too good. What are you trying to do, scare her off?” George laughed.

“He can’t scare me off,” Caroline said, giving George a bigger smile than she had Sam. He noticed her eyes sparkled when he smiled at her. It gave him a pleasant warm feeling. He reached out instinctively and put his hand on her back. She felt it there and was embarrassed to realize her cheeks were flushing. Just his fingers and hands felt strong to her and it made her heart flutter slightly.

It was a wonderful feeling. She wished he would never take his hand away.

“Yep, she’s here to stay,” George announced. “Send us the best serving girl so I can get her the best food that she wants and make sure the best cooks are making it, would you?”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell them you are here with a very special guest, boss. You got it.”

“Thanks.” George nodded and turned to steer Caroline in the direction of a table in the middle of the room. “This is where I always sit,” He said as he pulled her chair out for her. “I like to look around and make sure I see that things are going well.”

She sat down, saying, “Yes, I read in your letter that you are very conscientious about your business. I’m glad of that, I must say.” She spread her napkin on her lap and looked back up at him. “In my work as a secretary, I was always told I had a head for business, but you know…women aren’t in the position to do business like you men.”

He shook his head sitting in a chair that was closer to her than across the table. “That’s nonsense, in my opinion. Women are just as capable of running a business.”

“I do like that opinion.”

He hesitated for a moment, gazing at her. His stare didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. Instead, she felt exhilarated.

“You said that your parents own a restaurant in Virginia?”

She suddenly felt nervous. She had forgotten about her pledge to ask him for money to help their restaurant and save it. “Uh, yes, they do.”

“Is it successful?”

“It’s been successful for many years,” She responded.

“In that case, perhaps you can help me run one of my restaurants and take some of my burden off of me.”

“I can do that.” She nodded with a smile. “I certainly can do that.”

Chapter Four

She picked up the plates from the table, resting the eating utensils and resting them on top. She carried them to the back, passing through the door quietly.

It had been three weeks since her arrival in Arizona and as she suspected, she had assimilated well. She was used to the drastic difference in weather and had made several friends in the Flagstaff restaurant.

George had taken her to the other restaurants he owned and gave her a tour of his casino. He was told her he had gained his wealth by gambling in the first place. He was excellent at it. She had watched him in action and was very impressed.

He only gambled for fun now, because all the money he used at the casino went back into his own pocket. He had thought that was hilarious and she laughed with him about it.

After getting to know George well, she had finally decided to ask him for help for her family that evening at dinner. The house he owned was absolutely huge, no doubt. There was room for at least a half dozen children.

She was nervous to talk to him about it, but she had come to know him as not just a good businessman but also a kind gentleman. He had asked her to stay for a month to make sure it was what she wanted. He’d given her the option of working in the restaurant or just being at home all the time. Since there was a maid and cook, she had very little she needed to do for him there.

So she had chosen to work in the restaurant so that she wouldn’t be bored. She noticed George came around the restaurant quite often during the day and had one time even pulled up his shirt sleeves to help cook food in the kitchen.

She thought about the discussion she needed to have with him the entire day. She rehearsed what she wanted to say over and over. Her heart beat hard in nervousness and excitement. She was nervous he would think it was the only reason she had come, which it actually was. She didn’t want him to think badly of her. But she had worked hard to show him that she was a good woman and would do what she was required from him willingly. Over time, she felt her feelings growing for him. She was glad of that because it would make being married to him easier.

A knock at the door brought her attention away from her thoughts. She had been getting ready for her date with her soon-to-be husband and was staring in the mirror.

“Come in!” She called softly.

The door opened and George stood there. He gazed at her and smiled.

“You look lovely, Caroline.”

She smiled and blushed. “Thank you, George.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“I am.”

She turned off the lamp beside her and walked to the door, noticing how his body was outlined by the light behind him. It made her heart skip a beat and she knew she was done for in this situation. He had her heart. Hopefully, he wouldn’t think badly of her when she needed to ask her favor.

He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the ground floor. She reached for her long sweater, but he stopped her hand.

“You won’t need that,” He said.

“But it’s chilly out, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s cool. Regardless, dear, you won’t need it.”

She gazed at him for a moment in confusion. “O…okay, George. Where are we going?”

He didn’t respond. He took her hand and began to walk through the house toward the back. She lifted her eyebrows and went with him.

They walked through the hallway and to the kitchen. He took her through the rest of the house and pushed open the back door to the yard. He stepped back to let her through first. Her eyes opened wide when she stepped out into an unrecognizable yard. There were pretty colored lanterns hung all around, with beautiful colored paper strung around the roof.

A small table had been set in the middle of the porch area. Two long candles had been placed in front of each plate. They glowed softly. There were two plates, wine glasses with red wine in them and a covered plate in the middle of the table.

Caroline’s heart melted. She couldn’t help it when her mouth fell open and she gasped.

“Oh, my!” She breathed. “This is so beautiful, George. Oh, George!” She looked at him with misty eyes. It was obvious that he had the same feelings she had. She sighed and went to the table to look closer at its beauty. She sat when he pulled the chair out and scooted forward to sit comfortably.

He sat across from her.

“Before we have dinner, we need to talk. I would like to ask you something.”

She was surprised when the words came out of his mouth that she’d had every intention of saying herself.

“You would?” She asked.

“Yes.”

She pressed her lips together. “I also have something I want to ask you.”

“Who will go first?”

She smiled. “You can.”

“Okay.” He put out his hand and held it flat on the table. She placed her hand in his. “I have come to the decision that asking for a bride through the mail was the best thing I could have done. I believe that God has brought you to me. I am impressed with you as a woman and a person. You are a beautiful lady. I’m glad you’re here with me. I hope you are planning to stay. How has it gone for you? Do you like it?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes! I am extremely happy here.”

“Do you miss your family and Virginia?”

She tilted her head and gave him a smile. “I do, of course. But I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. I will write to them. And perhaps someday we can visit them.”

“We can definitely do that.” He nodded and his smile betrayed how happy he was that she was pleased to stay.

“I believe it is not very hard to fall in love with a woman like you,” He said, his deep voice soft. She sighed quietly.

“I feel the same about you,” She whispered, her cheeks red.

He was quiet for a moment, looking at her. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached forward and took the cover off the dish in between them. Instead of a plate of food like she expected, there was a soft bed of lettuce with radishes lining the outside. In the very middle of the lettuce sat a silver ring. She was stunned.

She picked it up and looked at it. It had a large diamond in the placement with tiny red stones surrounding it in the shape of a heart. She pulled in her breath all the way and held it.

He took it from her fingers and took her hand. “I would so love it if you would marry me, Caroline. You are sent from God, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, George!” She couldn’t hold tears back from her eyes. “This is a beautiful ring. Of course, I will marry you!”

He smiled wide and sighed hard. “That’s wonderful!” He slid the ring on her finger. Excitement and nervousness ran through her. She stood up and he did too, pulling her into a tight hug. She felt so comfortable in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. When she pulled away, she looked up at him feeling better than she had in a very long time.

“Now didn’t you have something to ask me?” He said. “They will bring us our food in a little while. We have time to talk.”

She sat back down and he did, too, leaning over the table toward her.

“Well,” She hesitated, again worried about what he would think. “I told you before that my parents own a restaurant. That’s how I know what to do when working there.”

He nodded. “Yes and you do a good job. Even in business matters, I’ve noticed that you make good decisions.”

“Thank you. That’s my father’s influence.”

“Your father must be a good teacher.”

“He is. And I followed him around all the time.” She laughed, thinking about her father’s acceptance of his young daughter trying to be just like him. “I admire everything about him. But before I came here something tragic happened to my family.”

“And what was that?”

“Well…” Again, she hesitated, looking down.

“Caroline, don’t be anxious about what you have to say. If we are to be married, we must be open and honest with each other. Go ahead.”

She knew her cheeks had filled again. She decided to just get it out. “My father’s business partner stole all the profits from the restaurant for the past several years. He has bankrupted our family…or it will happen and we will lose everything unless something happens fast.”

George sat back with a serious look. She instantly feared he suspected her affection for him was only because of the money. When he spoke, she felt a deep sense of relief.

“What? That is horrible! Yes, that is a dreadful thing for your family!”

“I would like to help them if I can. If you are willing to help them, I will work off every cent you give, in the restaurant or casino. I will do whatever it takes to pay you back.”

George was quiet for a moment and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he angry with her for asking? Did he know that she truly felt love for him?

“Let me ask you something, Caroline,” He said, leaning toward her again. Her breath caught. “Do you truly have feelings for me? Can you love me?”

She lowered her head. “I already do,” She whispered.

He reached out and took her hand. “I believe that, Caroline. I see how you look at me and it fills my heart. I don’t need you to pay off every cent in the restaurant or casino. I don’t need you to pay it back at all. I have money. What I want is love. I don’t mind using that money to make someone I love prosper…or her family, in this case.”

“Oh, George!” Caroline began to cry, her relief flowing through her. Her mother and father and siblings would be safe. The restaurant would continue to be profitable. He stood up again and gathered her in his arms.

“I love you, Caroline. I want you to be happy. Please don’t worry or hesitate to ask me for anything that you need.”

She looked up into his eyes. “You are an amazing man, George. I can’t thank you enough for caring enough about me to help my family, too. Thank you!”

She moved into his waiting arms. “I love you, too.”

*****

THE END

A Baby for the Bride – A Clean Western Historical Romance

Chapter One

Joyce sat up in bed, stretching her arms up toward the ceiling and letting out a long breath. It was supposed to be one of the most beautiful days of the year, and she was excited about it. She and her aunt had a picnic on Glade Hill planned for the afternoon. She couldn’t wait. She hadn’t been able to sit down with her aunt Grace and have a talk for several weeks.

She slipped out of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. She pulled on her robe and stepped over to her desk to get her brush and tooth cloth. Her mother had told her when she was a child that if she brushed her hair every morning and night and rubbed her teeth with a small cloth, they would stay cleaner and look healthier. She had practiced those two traditions every day since she was ten years old when she and her family migrated from Ireland.

She pulled back her thick red hair after brushing it thoroughly with 100 strokes and tied it behind her head in a large bun. She pulled on her bonnet over it, then pulled it off and decided she was going without today. She didn’t have to wear a bonnet if she didn’t want to.

She put on her clothes and left the room, leaving the house with fifteen minutes to walk to the sewing shop in town where she worked. It wasn’t far from her room in the boarding house. On the way out, she picked up a ham biscuit from the kitchen. Each morning, one of the other tenants fixed ham biscuits and left them warm for anyone who wanted one. She delighted in them since they were the only meat she got until dinnertime.

Today would be different. Her aunt was sure to have ham or turkey biscuits, with some corn and cabbage on the side and possibly a few other tasty delights. Her aunt, Grace, made the best sugar cookies she’d ever eaten. They were another thing she was looking forward to today.

Joyce smiled as she walked down the side of the street. There didn’t appear to be many people on the road this morning. No horses, buggies, carriages, or wagons passed her on her way. She thought that was a bit strange but after a moment forgot about it.

Her coworkers were already in the shop, sitting around in comfortable cushioned chairs with their sewing work on their laps and their sewing baskets set either at their feet or to the side.

“Good morning, Joyce!” Several of them called out a greeting to her, and she smiled at them.

“Good morning, ladies.”

“Did you have a good sleep last night?” One of them, Ann-Margaret, asked curiously. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I didn’t. I heard a dog howling in the middle of the night, and it woke me up. I couldn’t get back to sleep! Can you imagine? Letting your dog howl all night long when other people are trying to sleep.”

Joyce went to a shelf and took down her sewing basket. “Did you go out and say something about it to your neighbor?” She asked as she strolled back to her seat.

“I wanted to, let me tell you that.” Ann-Margaret was shaking her head. “But I don’t like to wander about at night by myself. You don’t know who might be lurking in the shadows.”

“Yes, because there are so many wild dog or Indian attacks here, right, Ann-Margaret?” One of her other coworkers winked at her. The rest of them laughed. Ann-Margaret gave her friend a smile.

“It’s dangerous whether you like to believe it or not, Jane. I could have been attacked by a wild animal. You just never know!”

“Or a mosquito could have bitten you!” Jane said, continuing to tease her. “How tragic! How awful!”

They all laughed, and Ann-Margaret joined in. “Oh, it may be silly to you, Janie. But I just don’t like it. I could even trip or walk into a hole and break my ankle.”

“Well then you would be useless as a horse with a broken leg, wouldn’t you?”

“All right now.” They heard the sound of their boss, Jack Carrigan, come from the back room. He stepped out and smiled at them all. “You can’t get work done if you are sitting around teasing Ann-Margaret about her fears.”

The women greeted their boss jovially.

“Good morning, Jack.” Joyce nodded at him. “I’m not late today, am I?”

He shook his head, moving into the room to survey the work his employees were doing. He was a large, round man with a pleasant demeanor and a quick hand to help anyone who needed it. Like his employees, the woman who worked for him were treated with a great deal of respect and encouragement. He paid them a decent salary and never tried to withhold any money from them. They did good work, and he liked to reward them for their efforts. “Not at all, Joyce. You just didn’t get here early!”

He grinned at her and she returned his smile, sitting to begin her work. She enjoyed the job and had been saving her money for some time now to do some traveling. She wanted to get out of the small Virginia town that had become her home after coming over from Ireland to New York. Her mother had detested New York and moved them South as soon as she could.

The morning went by quickly, as Joyce had hoped it would. She was pulling on a light shawl and heading out the door before she knew it.

Glade Hill was on the other side of the street and down just a bit from the sewing shop. She stopped on the way and took an apple from a cart, flipping the vendor a coin as she went. He snatched it from the air and grinned at her.

“Thank you, Joyce!” He called out, holding the coin up in the air. She nodded at him and took a big bite from the apple.

When she reached Glade Hill, she pulled open a small white iron gate that surrounded the bottom of the hill and went through. A stone path would lead a winding way up the hill, and she set about going up it, looking to the left and right to see where her aunt had decided to sit. She soon spotted her and left the path to walk over the grass to the blanket Grace had spread out for them to sit on.

“Good day, Joyce!” Grace stood up and approached, her arms spread out for a hug. They met, and Joyce hugged her mother tightly.

“Hello, Auntie!” She greeted her.

“How has your day been at the sewing shop?” They took the few steps back to the blanket and sat down. Joyce made herself comfortable and happily took a small bottle of Coca-Cola out of her aunt’s basket.

“It’s been fine. We’ve gotten a lot of work done. But I’ve been waiting for this picnic, auntie. I’m so glad to be able to see you and talk to you again. I’m glad you’ve come back from visiting.”

Grace nodded. “I must do what I can for our Irish old-timers, Joyce. Visiting them seems to bring them great joy, so I keep doing it.”

“Yes, I know, Grace. You have a very strong sense of loyalty.”

Grace smiled wide. “It is an Irish thing. You possess that quality, too. You just have different things you are loyal to.”

Joyce happily took a turkey and cheese roll from her aunt. “I do? Such as?”

“You are very loyal to your job. When was the last day you didn’t go to work?”

Joyce gave her a look. “If I don’t work, I don’t make any money. How will I save and get ahead then?”

“You are loyal to yourself as well.” Grace chuckled. “You want what you want, and you’re going to get it, are you not?”

“That is my plan. I must get out of this little town.”

“You will miss me?”

“I will.” She leaned forward and put her hand on her mother’s arm. “You are going to be the person I miss the most, auntie. You know that.”

“Your brothers and sister have missed you in the last month or two. You should go visit them.”

Joyce laughed. “Before I leave this place, I will visit them. Until then, they know where I am! And since they have their families now, I would only be intruding if I just went over there. Robert would think I am only there for a meal!”

The women laughed softly.

“I do have something I wanted to show you and discuss with you, Joyce. Something you might want to consider as you think about traveling and leaving here.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Grace reached back into her basket and pulled out the newspaper from a larger town some distance from them. It was one of the towns she had visited where they had relatives. They had relatives all over town and all over the state of Virginia, who had migrated down from New York to escape the blistering cold of winter and the crunch as people from around the world flooded into the main streets there.

Grace looked through the paper, snapping it open and folding it so that a particular page was displayed. “Look at what this says here.” She pointed to a small ad in the middle of the page.

Joyce read through it. “Auntie, are you suggesting I travel to the West to become this man’s bride? Why would I want to do that?”

“There are several good reasons why this would be for you, Joyce. First, I have been praying for a sign, something that will help relieve you from the burden of being in a place you don’t want to be in.”

“Auntie, I’m perfectly content…”

“Let me finish, my girl. Second, this man is wealthy. He will take good care of you, and you won’t have to work in a sewing shop for the next ten years, saving money to be able to go somewhere else where you will have to work again. And third, you have a chance to have a family of your own. I know you want that, do you not?”

“I do. You know I would like to have a family soon. I’m almost 22, and I need to start my life. I know a lot of girls my age who have been married for several years. I don’t want to be a spinster.”

Grace laughed and shook her head. “A beautiful woman like you does not have to worry about that, Joyce.”

Joyce snorted. “How can you say that, Grace? I have not had any marriage proposals before. Not in my life!”

Grace blew a quick breath through her lips as if to dismiss the words Joyce had just said. “The only reason you haven’t been receiving any is because you have three protective older brothers, and there are too many relatives here. You have almost a dozen cousins here, and that’s almost all of the population your age that aren’t already married.”

Joyce nodded. “That is a good point, Grace.”

“At least, consider this proposal. You can have so much more, so much freedom being married to an older, rich man.”

“It doesn’t say he’s older.”

“Do you expect him to have wealth at your age?”

Joyce contemplated that thought. “I suppose not. But what if he’s very old?”

“You won’t know unless you write to him and find out.” Grace tilted her head and gazed at her niece. “Will you consider it? Will I be sending you on a train heading West any time soon?”

Joyce was quiet, thinking about the possibilities in the West. Things would be so very different. The climate, the population, even the way people talked and dressed. It would be quite a change. A completely different and new life.

“I will.” She nodded and her aunt grabbed her in a tight hug.

“I’m so pleased! I will come over after you are home from work and help you write back to him if you like.”

Joyce smiled. Another chance to see her mother so soon was always welcome. She wasn’t going to be seeing her at all in her future.

Chapter Two

The train ride was long and boring for Joyce. She readily remembered the trains she had been on as a youth as they traveled through America going South. She knitted for an hour or so but was frustrated with it quickly. It reminded her of the sewing she had done for so long and didn’t want to do much of anymore. She had enough scarfs and shawls. Everything she’d owned fit into three large luggage trunks.

Either way, she didn’t want to finish knitting. She was feeling nervous and anxious. She had received several letters from Tom Huffman, the wealthy man who was interested in calling for a bride. He sounded intelligent and kind. He explained that his money came from his ancestry, that he was originally from London and had bought a lot of land in Colorado. It was near a Cheyenne Indian reservation.

He hadn’t said very much about himself. He had said that he was a widower but hadn’t gone into too much detail about that. Joyce wondered why. When he’d written, he’d given her a vague sketch of himself and his life in Colorado.

It left her wondering what kind of life she was going to have. Was she going to be cleaning a big house and treated like another housekeeper? Would she fall in love immediately and him with her and live happily ever after?

She shook her head. The future was an incomplete picture. It left her feeling shaky and regretful. Change was needed; she decided firmly. She wasn’t going to give in to negative thoughts. She’d prayed for change, been lead to change and was thanking God for the blessings.

She took the opportunity to get a sandwich and a Coke from the dining car. Tom had been generous enough to pay for her ticket, which she found out later was typical in a situation like this, and even though she had told him, she’d been saving up and could afford it. He was insistent, in fact, that she keep her money for herself or buy something that she wanted before leaving Virginia.

She’d decided to keep her money. She wasn’t sure what her future would be and would feel more secure if she had something to fall back on in an emergency.

By the time the train pulled into the station, she was exhausted with the ride. Sitting in the car on a cushioned bench had left her with aching bones. She was glad to stretch out. When she stepped down from the train on the platform, she walked directly into the building and to the clerk.

“I have several bags that were not in the car with me.”

“They will be dropped off here in a short time.” The clerk nodded, taking a stub ticket from her. “If you’d care to wait over there, we will have them brought in.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

She turned and looked around. She didn’t see anyone who looked notable in the room. She had to assume that a man as wealthy as Tom would be constantly surrounded by other people, either his friends or people who wished they were his friends. There didn’t appear to be much wealth in this area of Colorado. There were more men than women; she had noticed that. But otherwise, it looked very similar to the place she’d just left. She moved to a bench and sat down, setting her sewing bag on the floor beside her. She turned to gaze at the huge fireplace set into the wall to her right. She admired the stone carvings that surrounded it and imagined it was quite beautiful when a fire was blazing below it.

A hand on her arm caught her by surprise, and she turned with an, “oh!” She was staring at a young woman with big brown eyes, long eyelashes and brown curls surrounding her slender face. The woman smiled.

“I am so sorry to have frightened you!” The woman said. Joyce stood up. “Are you Joyce Driscoll?”

Joyce nodded. “I am.”

“Oh good!” She looked relieved. “This is Gary Huffman, and I am Anne Huffman. Tom is Gary’s brother. We are here to pick you up.”

“Oh!” Joyce smiled. “Hello! It’s good to meet you.” Anne surprised her again by pulling her into a quick but warm hug.

“We are glad to have you here!” She turned to her husband again, and Gary held out his hand. Joyce shook it but noticed that Gary looked unhappy or anxious. She had already been worried on the train for the last six hours. His demeanor did nothing to change her feelings. She looked back at Anne.

“Has anything happened?”

“Oh no.” Anne shook her head, and her curls danced their own jig. “We just do a lot of things for Tom because he is a very busy man. He is very businesslike and concentrates a good deal of his time to his work.”

“He oversees all of his land?”

Anne nodded. “There are several…Gary, would you fetch her bags, please?”

Gary looked as though he should have thought of that himself first and nodded to her. “Yes, of course.”

“There are several businesses being run on Tom’s land.” Anne continued as Gary walked to the clerk’s desk. “And other threats that he must guard against.”

“I see. Indians and poachers.”

Anne nodded. “Not really the Indians. Their reservation is not as close as it may seem. They do not need to come into town for anything, so we don’t see much of them. They are more friendly than hostile toward our little area.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” When Gary came back carrying Joyce’s bags, the three of them set off for the carriage, which awaited them outside. Joyce was impressed the moment she saw the horses and carriage. The vehicle was drawn by two large majestic horses. The carriage was large, white and a driver was propped up top, holding the reins loosely in his hands. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“This is very nice,” she said. Anne looked at her.

“I think we begin to lose appreciation for the beauty of things after you get used to them,” she said in a very low voice as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. Joyce looked down at her, realizing Anne was several inches shorter than she. “I have been riding in this carriage for over a year, and I don’t think I’ve ever really looked closely at it.”

Joyce raised her eyebrows, taking in the whole of the large carriage. It was white – a glowing white that made it seem brand new – trimmed with gold edges. The curtains inside were gold with long, thick tassels on the ends. The steps they were to use to get in the carriage were also gold and made of metal. She had to assume they were gold-plated. She couldn’t imagine spending the kind of money it would take to simply have even one step made out of gold.

At first, their ride was quiet. Joyce was still uncomfortable with the nervous look that Gary couldn’t seem to get rid of. She wondered if he always had that look on his face. Perhaps he was worried about something that was completely unrelated to her arrival.

“So please tell us a little about yourself.” Anne prompted after a short time. “We have about a half hour drive until we reach the house.”

“I was born in Ireland, in Meade County,” she replied. “My family immigrated to America when I was ten. We were in New York for a few years and then traveled to Virginia to live.”

“Did you have trouble leaving your family and coming so far away?”

Joyce shook her head. “I will miss the family I left behind,” she replied. “But I lost my parents early on in a boating accident, and my aunt and uncle raised me. I have two brothers, a sister, and many cousins.”

“So you come from a large family?”

Joyce nodded. “I do, but I have been living on my own for several years. I prefer solitude and quiet to what I was raised with.”

“I imagine you do!” Anne replied, nodding. “You… won’t have to worry about that here. There’s hardly any people in the house.”

Gary made a small noise in his mouth and gave Anne a look. Anne’s face tensed, and she gave him a return look. This action confused Joyce. She wrestled with whether or not she wanted to say anything about this strange behavior.

“You should tell her,” Gary said. Joyce was immediately on alert. She narrowed her eyes.

“What is it?”

Anne licked her lips and pulled in a deep breath.

“There’s something about Tom you should know.”

Joyce tried to prepare herself for something horrible. She clenched her jaw and tried not to let her fiery temper take over before she even knew what the deal was. “Please tell me,” she said, clenching her hands in her lap, gathering up her skirts in her fingers.

“He’s…he’s been very upset since the death of his wife 16 months ago.” Anne’s voice was low again, and Joyce sat forward a little. “He took to building on to his house and has added about a dozen rooms to it since then.”

Joyce was a little confused but said nothing. She wanted the whole story and reserved judgment till she had it.

“The house has about 32 rooms now. It was already a mansion before. Tom… hasn’t even put furniture in some of them. He moved all of his things into the new rooms and keeps several of the old ones the way they were when Lizzie died.”

Joyce felt her temper waning. Tom’s depression had led him to do something strange, but at least, he hadn’t murdered someone. “Well, I’ve heard of people in mourning doing that before. How did she die?”

Gary’s eyes snapped down to his wife. “Tell her, Anne,” He said.

Anne pursed her lips for a moment. Finally, she said, “In childbirth.” She let her eyes move up to Joyce’s face as the woman registered what she’d said.

Joyce frowned. “So he lost his wife and his baby at the same time?” She asked.

Gary shook his head. “No, Miss. The baby is healthy and alive. Her name is Eliza, named after her mother.”

Joyce processed the information. “So…there’s a baby?”

The couple sitting across from her stared at her with open faces. Gary seemed to expect Joyce to jump from the carriage at that moment. Anne’s face looked hopeful and anxious at the same time.

Joyce was taken aback, unsure how to feel. She had been lied to about something that was very important. Something that may have made a difference in her choice to come here. She felt betrayed and frowned deeply. She wasn’t going to have her own family. She was going to have someone else’s family.

“That is deeply disappointing,” Joyce said. “I would have liked to have known about that before I agreed to come here. I have no experience with small babies. None whatsoever.”

“You didn’t take care of your nieces and nephews?” Gary asked.

Joyce shook her head. “No. I never did.” She was trying to control her disappointment and anger. She wasn’t sure she wanted to start out with a new baby she hadn’t even had. And this man sounded like he was going to be distant and mournful of his dead wife all the time. Where did that leave her? As a nursemaid and housekeeper? She looked out the window without putting words to her emotions. She had money. She could buy a train ticket and go home.

But was that really what she wanted?

Anne leaned forward and put her small hands over Joyce’s. “Please don’t be angry with Tom, Joyce. He’s such a good man and he just needs to be shown that life isn’t over. He needs someone to show him that there can be love again. I believe you will do that for him. All you have to do is reach out to him and try to understand him.”

Joyce didn’t respond but did look at Anne with a soft look. It was her Godly duty to try. She had to try at least. She wasn’t the kind of woman who started something she didn’t finish, even if there were obstacles put in the way.

Chapter Three

The rest of the ride back was quiet as Joyce thought about her options. She certainly didn’t have to stay. But she felt obligated to do so. This child had been left without her mother, and her father didn’t seem to be in any condition to take care of her. How could she possibly let the child grow up in an atmosphere like that? At least, she had her parents until she was 12. She’d gotten to experience a family. How could she not ensure this innocent child had the same thing?

She tried to reassure herself but still felt resentful. Everyone had problems. Surely Tom could muster up the courage to let go at some point. She had moved on from the death of her parents. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been necessary.

She was once again in awe when they pulled into the long dirt drive that led up to the biggest house Joyce had ever seen. She leaned slightly out the window and scanned the landscape. There was a row of trees lining the dirt drive that reached up into the sky and bent over the path to make a natural shelter. The leaves were in full bloom. Coming from the drab exterior of the town she’d left behind, she was highly impressed.

Beyond the trees, she could see fields stretching out, tall grass waving in the breeze. She moved her eyes to the house they were approaching. It was three stories high and made from what looked like solid red bricks. The porch roof was held up by two opposing huge round stone pillars. There were six long steps that formed a “c” in front of the porch. They were also made of the same light colored stone as the pillars.

“Oh, my.” She breathed.

Anne and Gary didn’t respond.

When the carriage pulled up to the steps, Gary got out first and held out his hand to help the ladies down the small steps. A woman dressed in a frock and apron came out of the house to greet them. She was carrying a very small baby girl. Eliza was dressed to meet her new mother. She had on a bright yellow sundress with a large blue ribbon around the waist that brought out the blue in the little girl’s eyes. Her yellow hair almost matched her dress but gave off a more gold-colored shine. She had one tiny finger in her mouth, where Joyce could see three teeth on the top and three on the bottom.

“Hello, Eliza!” Anne said, going up the stairs quickly and taking the little girl in her arms. She turned to Joyce. “This is Eliza. Say hello, Eliza, this is Miss Joyce come to take care of you.” She looked at Joyce. “I don’t know if we should introduce mama to her until papa says it’s okay to do so. He would not be happy if he thought we were trying to take the remembrance of Lizzie away. Especially in his current state of mind.”

Joyce nodded. “I completely understand.” When Anne made to hand Eliza to her, she took a step back, shaking her head. Anne gave her a slightly frightened look and then recovered herself quickly. “Let’s go in, shall we? I’ll show you around some of the areas that you will be occupying the most. This is Mattie. She takes care of the housekeeping.”

“For the entire house?” Joyce gave her a sympathetic look. Mattie just smiled.

“There are many rooms that only have one piece of furniture in them and some that have none at all. They don’t require much cleaning.”

“Why does he keep adding rooms?” Joyce asked quietly as if he might hear her and be angry.

Anne shrugged, moving the baby to her hip and stopping when Joyce did. She looked up to see Joyce staring all around her.

The front entrance led to a long wide foyer with a polished mahogany round table directly in front of them. It was adorned with a huge bouquet of roses. She went to them and breathed in the scent. “These are beautiful.” She murmured. She looked up and around. “It’s all beautiful.”

The floor under her feet was made of stone tile. On the other side of the table, a carpeted staircase led up to the second floor. From the second, a staircase led up to the third floor, one to the left and one to the right, depending on which side you were going from. Each door looked like the others, with hand-carved designs in only the best woods available.

“You’ll want to see this.” Anne led her into one of the side rooms on the bottom floor. Joyce sucked in a breath, taking it all in. It was furnished with soft looking couches; high hard-backed cushioned chairs that looked less comfortable and an area rug that must have been bought for at least a hundred dollars if not much more. Her green eyes widened as she stared around her.

The most notable thing about the room was the portraits that hung all around them. They were expensive paintings, from the look of them. Joyce couldn’t imagine having enough money for one of them, much less all of them. Even if they weren’t real.

“Here is Sir William Henry Huffman.” Anne stopped by one of the portraits. She looked up at it proudly, as if she had known the man. “He was the first in line for this family to have a lot of money. They say that he got it all trading with other countries. I don’t know much about the family business, but Gary and Tom are both widely known with the governments both here and in England.”

“When did they immigrate to America?” Joyce asked.

Eliza seemed to be getting restless, so Anne put her on the floor. Joyce watched the child waddling around the room while Anne just stared at the portrait. “Tom was in his teens when they came here. He and Gary are only a year apart and are very close. Gary has become…” Anne gave her a sidelong glance before looking back to the portrait. “…protective of Tom. He’s the older one, you know. So he feels responsible for Tom. And since Lizzie died, Tom has been unreachable.”

Joyce tried to hold back a sigh. It certainly sounded like she had been called to be a nursemaid to baby and father. She kept her face as neutral as possible and listened to Anne when she continued.

“Last year, Tom got an invitation from President Cleveland to visit the White House.”

“Did he go?”

Anne looked at her with a shocked expression. “Did he go? Of course, he went! We all did. There could be nothing better!”

“Did he take Eliza?”

Anne glanced back to where Eliza had taken fascination with a large stone sculpture of an elephant. She was running her hand over its head as though it was a live pet. She was talking to it, too, but neither of them understood exactly what she was saying. They caught a few phrases, but it was mostly unintelligible words strung together. At least, she knew the word “elephant.”

“Sadly no. She was too young to travel all the way across the country. And he would not have been in any condition to have her there with him.”

“Why was he invited?”

“President Cleveland was campaigning at the time – to become president, you know. Tom is very influential with many of the businessmen on the West Coast, especially here in Colorado. The president knew how much things were changing, are changing out here. He wanted to talk to Tom about it. Plus, he’d heard that Lizzie had died and wanted to give his condolences.”

“That was nice of him.”

Anne shrugged. “It was probably politics that drove the president to do that. That seems to be the way government runs.”

Joyce had to admit she knew no more about politics, government and business than Anne. She knew how to work hard to save money, and she could work figures in her mind like no boys she knew. She had not had any opportunities to use her figuring skills to help in business of any kind. Women weren’t allowed.

She was fine with that. They could remain ignorant of her talent if they wanted to.

They made a slow circle around the room, Anne explaining each of the portraits that hung on the walls. “And here are Tom and Gary.” Anne’s voice was much prouder than it had been with any of the other men, even the founding father.

Joyce peered closely at Tom’s face. He was very similar to his brother, with wavy light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a strong forehead. His chin was equally strong, and he had a stern look about him. He looked like a man who had fought in a war. He was standing on one side of a tall chair with one hand on the edge. He wore a black tuxedo and had casually shoved one hand in the pocket, making the jacket stick out slightly in the back. Gary was standing on the other side of the chair in the same position reversed. He was also wearing a tuxedo. They both had small smiles on their faces. Joyce marveled at how Tom could look so stern and still be smiling.

“Is this recent?” She asked.

“It was done last year while they were visiting the President.”

“How interesting.”

“What do you think?”

“Of Tom?” She gave Anne a quick glance and saw her nod. Her eyes settled on Tom once more, and she gave it a thought. “I think he looks like he’s been through a war.”

Anne sighed. “It’s so unfortunate that the portrait was done after Lizzie’s death. Tom was a different man before, happy and smiling, playful and fun.” She looked at Joyce. “I do hope you can reawaken that in him, Joyce. You are vibrant and full of energy, I can tell. You can do it.”

Joyce felt the uncomfortable feeling of mental pressure. Anne was confident in her. She felt she probably could do what was needed for Tom. But the fact that she had practically been forced into it and now felt an obligation to a child that wasn’t even hers was unnerving. It disturbed her, and she hoped to rid herself of those feelings through prayer and with time.

“I will try,” she said.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You are not planning to leave then?”

Joyce shook her head a bit reluctantly. “No. I will stay.”

At that very moment, Eliza started clapping her hands and dancing around the room. Anne and Joyce both turned and watched her, instant smiles on their faces. “I think she likes the idea, Joyce!” Anne laughed.

“I don’t think she understands the situation.” Joyce chuckled at the thought. “But it was certainly good timing!”

Chapter Four

In the three days since her arrival, Joyce had seen much more of Anne and Gary than she had of Tom. Her initial meeting with Tom had been brief and he had enough time for her to introduce himself and say hello to his daughter before he was off to work. He didn’t come home until late in the evening, usually eating his dinner in a restaurant in the town. He told Joyce that they would speak privately on Saturday, which was still a day away, and that they would make plans to be married at that time.

It wasn’t the most pleasant way to meet your future husband.

She hadn’t been having an easy time of it with Eliza either. She had to learn everything about caring for a baby from Anne, who had apparently been taking care of Eliza the most. Joyce found herself wondering why Anne and Gary hadn’t simply adopted Eliza and taken her care off of Tom’s hands. And mind.

She woke up frustrated that Thursday, hearing Eliza calling from her room. The sun had barely risen, and Tom was already gone. She threw the covers from her legs and sat up, frustrated. This was not the life she had wanted. She had wanted fun, adventure, and new love. Not to be saddled with a baby and a never-present husband that she didn’t even know and didn’t consider all that handsome.

The money she had tucked away beckoned her every morning. She sighed heavily, deciding once more to ignore its call and go tend to the child.

She pulled on a robe and slipped her feet into her slippers. Eliza was awake much earlier than usual. No one would have made any coffee yet.

Joyce went into Eliza’s room and picked her up and out of her crib. “Here you go, Ellie,” she said. “Good morning, good morning.” She kept her voice pleasant and forced a smile on her face. There was no way she would let this happy child feel her frustration. That wouldn’t be fair at all. Her unhappiness was her own, and she wasn’t going to make a baby feel it too. Besides, her crying would be endless. That was the last thing Joyce wanted at this point.

She set Ellie down in a chair and took up a towel to brush her little hands and face with water from the basin. Then she brushed the little girl’s curls and helped her rub a small cloth over her tiny teeth. She had adopted her own morning routine for the child, and Ellie didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. She opened her little mouth and displayed her teeth, separating them for Joyce to get the insides of them too. She bounced slightly in the chair while Joyce brushed her yellow curls. She sat perfectly still and closed her eyes while Joyce wiped her face with first a wet towel and then a dry one.

When Joyce was finished, she was rewarded with a big grin and a hug around the neck. Every time Ellie hugged her, Joyce felt her heart melting a little more. She wished that Ellie was her own child and was slowly coming to realize that she might as well be.

“Let’s go exploring today, Ellie, shall we?”

Without having the slightest clue what “exploring” might mean, Eliza jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Joyce laughed. “All right, let’s go!” She held out her hand, but Ellie held up both arms. “Oh, you are going to get heavy pretty quickly, little one,” Joyce said. “But I’ll carry you for a bit, okay?”

“Up! Please!”

Joyce couldn’t resist her. “Okay, dear.” She leaned down and picked the little girl up in her arms. “I imagine your little legs get tired pretty quickly, don’t they? Although you don’t have nearly as much weight to carry as someone big like me.” She continued chatting, knowing that Ellie wasn’t processing much of what she was saying, if anything. She talked to her as if she was much older than she really was. Apparently, she was smarter than most. According to Anne, she had learned to walk early, and though she didn’t say many words, she was able to read the alphabet and numbers and could understand a few words that were written down on paper, such as “dog” and “cat.” At sixteen months, that was an incredible accomplishment.

“Which way should we go, Ellie? This way or that way?” She pointed down the hallway once she’d reached the second floor. Ellie looked as though she were really thinking about it, which made Joyce want to burst out laughing. She smiled instead and waited, biting her bottom lip gently.

“Dis way!” Ellie pointed to the left. Joyce was glad. She hadn’t been down that way before and was anxious to see what there was to see. There were three rooms on each side of the house. Most of the new construction was on the bottom floor. The house spread out back over the land, and its length couldn’t be seen from the front. You had to round the entire house to see that it had been added on to extensively.

The first door she opened was to what looked like a spare bedroom. On the other side, a floor to ceiling window was covered by long blue draperies. The furniture consisted of a canopy bed with dusty curtains, a side table, a dresser and an area rug. All were covered with a thick layer of dust. She was glad to see that there were no cobwebs. The room was probably only attended to once a month, from the look of it.

She closed the door and gave Ellie a look. “It’s too dusty in there!” She exclaimed. Ellie giggled.

The second door led to a room that looked similar to the first but was slightly less dusty. The furnishings were the same, with the exception of the coloring, which was green as opposed to blue in the first room.

She closed the door and looked at Ellie once again. “It’s too dusty in there, too!” She made a face and the baby laughed.

“Well, let’s try the third one then, shall we?”

When she opened the door to the third room, she was surprised and frightened to see that someone was in there, standing at the large window on the opposite side. When her eyes adjusted to the light coming through the glass, she saw that it was Tom. He turned and looked at her. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stood there rigidly, with a terribly sad look on his face.

“Hello, Tom!” Joyce stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. This room was not dusty. It was immaculate. The furniture was polished, and the bed looked as though it may have been slept in the night before. It wasn’t Tom’s room. It was filled with flowers, pretty pictures on the walls, a red velvet drapery that was pulled back from the window and held in place with a gold tassel and a soft, silk pink curtain around the canopy bed. “You…you scared me. Are you…all right?”

Tom looked back out the window, resuming the stance he’d had before she came in.

“Do you see that long patch of grass down there?” He asked, pointing.

Joyce set Eliza down and came to stand next to him. She looked through the window to where he was pointing. “I do.”

“Lizzie and I used to picnic in that very spot. She made the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. They were always delicious and made just the way I like them. She never forgot anything. She always knew what I liked.”

Joyce pressed her lips together. His voice was so sad. His eyes gazed mournfully down to the patch of grass before sliding out over the rest of the land that could be seen. “We went for many walks down there in the garden and around the land here.”

“How long had you been married to her?”

“I had her for six very short years,” he replied.

Joyce suppressed a sigh. The woman had died almost two years previous. Tom’s heart was stuck in the past. “Tom, why did you call me here?”

Tom lowered his head, and she could see he was ashamed. Her heart ached for him. She put one hand on his shoulder, glancing back to see that Eliza had pulled herself up on the bed and was rolling around on it, pulling the blanket along with her. Tom noticed as well and smiled softly. His love for his daughter was plainly written on his face. For Joyce, that was all she needed.

“I’m not angry, Tom. Please tell me why you brought me here.”

“I…I need to make some changes. I need to…let go.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Tom.” Joyce kept her voice very soft and was glad when he looked down directly into her eyes. “I think you’re right. You’ve been in mourning long enough. You must try to think about your daughter. If, for any reason, you should because she is a part of Lizzie. You even gave her a name that would honor her mother. The Bible itself says that we may mourn for a while, but that rejoicing comes in the morning. If you look at your little girl, how can you not rejoice in the fact that she is here? God gave you a piece of Lizzie to hold on to and love forever. He called His daughter home, would you really want to deny Lizzie of that wonderful blessing? Would you want her back here where there is pain, unhappiness and tears? I know you don’t.”

Tom shook his head but said nothing. He was listening to her, so she continued.

“I know you loved her with all your heart, and she probably felt the same way about you. If she did, she wouldn’t want you to feel this way forever. She would want you to let go and live your life and be happy. Especially so that you can take good care of Ellie.”

“I like that you call her ‘Ellie.' It’s fitting for this little light.”

“Yes, I agree. And you don’t want to really be reminded each time you call your daughter, at least not until you’ve become strong enough to accept the loss of someone you loved so much. You need to show Ellie that through the death of her mother, you have found a fresh respect for life. You can’t drag in the mud forever. She needs to see you happy. She needs to see you.”

“You are such a good woman, Joyce. I am so glad you came here. God must have sent you to me.”

“Tom, I know it’s going to take you some time still to pull out of your grief. But you can do it. And I will help you.”

“You are a beautiful woman.”

Joyce blushed. “Thank you.”

“I don’t just mean on the outside, I mean on the inside, too.”

“I must admit I was thinking about leaving and going back to Virginia at first. I was very much contemplating it.”

“It’s natural you would feel that way. I lied to you. Well, I didn’t admit to the truth, did I? I just…I just couldn’t take a chance that the only response I got to my ad would not come because of my sadness and my little baby girl.”

Joyce licked her lips and moved closer to him. She put one hand up on his chest, and he put his hand over hers. “I will not leave you, Tom, if I can help it. You can’t stay in mourning forever. You must pursue happiness. You can’t expect it to just come to you.”

He nodded. “In this case, I think it did. You have come. You will help me feel better. I am blessed to have you. So is Ellie.”

“God has blessed us both, Tom. He gave us both what we didn’t know we needed.”

*****

THE END

The Expectation of Love – A Clean Western Historical Romance

All things seemed possible with love.

This was the admittedly sentimental but nonetheless overpowering notion that struck the mind of Amy Phillips. She strode gracefully and freely between two rows of golden corn; walking with the same light and joyful steps that had guided her movements a year before, when she’d strode down a flower-strewn aisle to meet and mate with the man who now awaited her at the border of their field.

Although now dressed in practical denim as opposed to lavish wedding finery, she and husband Vance still looked at one another with the greatest love and tenderest passion.

These intense, all-consuming emotions had parlayed themselves into a beautiful shared life; a blessed existence that had seen the purchase of an expansive plot of land in the heart of Austin, Texas, as well as a pregnancy that promised to spread their love and prosperity to a second generation.

Joining hands now with the tall, slender blond man she called her wedded husband, Amy used her free hand to stroke the belly that seemed to grow larger with every passing day—and, somehow, she didn’t mind one bit.

“Are you ready to cease for just a few moments, love, so we can head back to the ranch house and have our lunch?” she asked, eyebrows arched as her husband leaned forward to grace her fair cheek with an affirming kiss.

Vance nodded.

“We have just a few more rows of corn to harvest,” he reminded her, adding as he cocked his handsome head in a show of keen concern, “Why don’t you let me shuck them while you go back to the house? You look as though you could use some rest.”

Amy snorted.

“I am expectant, my darling, not infirmed,” she reminded him, adding as she ran a confident hand through the windswept ringlets of her luxurious reddish blonde hair, “I am more than capable of completing all of my daily duties on the ranch I helped plant.” She paused here, adding as she raised a slender finger for emphasis, “Remember this, husband!”

Restraining a round of unbidden laughter, a chastened Vance met his wife’s words with a hale and hearty salute.

“Yes, Ma’am!” he affirmed.

Grinning brightly as her husband returned to his work, Amy turned into the field to observe the sheer brilliance of a sun-soaked Texas morning; a day blessed with clear azure skies and meadows and fields that glowed a lovely emerald gold in the light of the beacon that shone resplendent above them.

For just a moment she basked in the beauty of the day; musing with a happy sigh that her dreams of a loving marriage and a thriving family were coming to fruition, nearing their flawless completion with every passing day.

All peaceable feelings fled her psyche moments later, as a loud, distressing thump resounded just behind her; forcing her to turn and bear witness to a nightmarish scene.

Her beloved husband, lively and animated moments earlier, now lay still and unconscious on the ground below him; his hands clutching his heart as his eyelashes fluttered shut—his breath escaping him in a sharp, violent gust as she ran to his side.

“Vance!”

Racing through the field with feverish steps, Amy gaped outright as her troubled mind brimmed with all manner of unspeakable possibilities.

She recalled with horror the fact that Vance’s father and uncle both had died young of heart-related illnesses; also the fact that her husband had seemed weary and lethargic in recent days.

“Please God no,” she muttered, now kneeling full to her husband’s side as she lowered her head to his chest. “It can’t be….”

Yet the silence of his heart and the stillness of his breathing told the truth of the tale; and as she threw her arms around his muscled shoulders, she somehow knew that this would be the last time she ever held him in her arms.

*****

A month passed beneath the Texas sky; its unforgiving sun roasting the woman who toiled beneath its harsh rays.

A telltale line of sweat beaded Amy’s fair skinned forehead as she struggled to pick just one more ear of corn; her feet heavy and her shoulders heaving as she made her way across the field.

It seemed beyond her comprehension that, just one month before, she had regarded this very field as a place of hope and happiness; joyfully toiling at her husband’s side as they harvested a hopeful future.

Now she worked alone through long, hot days; her only assistant a frail older aunt who resided alone on a neighborhood farm.

Herself a widow, Aunt Grace was a short, petite brunette who worked her own land in addition to serving as an able aide to her beleaguered niece.

Able—if weary and more than a bit cranky.

“Enough, Amy!” she declared one day, straightening herself between two rows of corn as she fixed her tired niece with a cold hard stare. “You must be sensible about this matter before you exhaust the both of us!”

Amy sighed.

“My deepest apologies, Auntie,” she murmured, standing ginger above a tassel of corn as she clutched her weary back with a wan, tired hand. “I simply cannot manage this ranch all by my lonesome, and I know not where else to turn.”

Grace thought a moment, then nodded.

“I know, Girl, and I am more than pleased to help you as much as I’m able,” she told her niece, voice softening as she leaned forward to grace her slender shoulder with a reassuring pat. “It’s just that I cannot tend both your ranch and my own for the duration of the growing season. And you yourself should be resting in bed, awaitin’ the birth of your little one.”

Amy had heard enough.

“I am well and weary of everyone telling me that I am not strong enough to work my own land,” she insisted, adding as she raised a firm finger for emphasis, “This is my ranch, and I plan to tend it. I just need a bit of help, that is all.”

At that moment she felt a slash of pain rip unbidden through her rounded stomach; nearly bringing her to her knees as she gritted her teeth against the agony.

“I wish only that my child would be a bit more cooperative,” she managed through ground teeth, straining to stand upright as her aunt rushed to her side.

“Your child needs a mother who is rested and relaxed,” Grace insisted, adding as she wrapped a supportive arm around her niece’s shoulders, “And as much as I would love to send you to bed and toil in your fields by my lonesome, I simply cannot do so; particularly not when so much of my own work awaits me in my own.”

Amy shrugged.

“Well sadly Auntie, I cannot afford to hire a ranch hand at this point,” she revealed, adding as she cocked her head in her aunt’s direction, “Have you any other ideas?”

Grace looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

“I do indeed have an idea,” she admitted, adding as she dug deep into the pocket of her soft embroidered denim dress, “You will not like it, but it may indeed be our only hope.”

With these words she produced a weathered newspaper page for Amy’s inspection; unfolding the page to reveal a classified advertisement with an intriguing headline marked mail order bride.

“Ladies,” the ad read, its message conveyed in dark bold letters that shone prominently on the page. “Need you a prince?”

Turning from her aunt in a single bold flourish, a snorting Amy braced her arms before her as she shook her head from side to side in response to these cryptic words.

“I shall not read one more word of that addled fairy tale nonsense,” she declared, adding as she held up a slender hand in the direction of her frowning aunt, “I myself had my own fairy tale—my own enchanted prince.” She paused here, adding as her voice cracked, “Both were fallen and destroyed before my very eyes. Now I have no more need for dreams, Aunt Grace. Dreams die. And so do princes.”

Nodding in tender empathy with these harsh spoken words, Grace placed a gentle hand on her niece’s arm and turned her body towards her; once again holding the newspaper up between them as she told her, “As much as Vance was a very special gentleman, my dear, one that never will be replaced, you must remember that he has left us—never to return, Girl.”

With these words, she squeezed her niece’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes.

“You, on the other hand, remain a young woman of great strength and vigor—and, as many have told you, striking beauty,” she praised Amy, adding as she held up the newspaper for her niece’s inspection, “Surely you will not wish to spend the remainder of your days here by your lonesome, with no husband, no lover, no friend or companion. And if you would take only a moment to peruse this gentleman’s advertisement, then you would read of his intellect, his kindness, and his stellar good looks.”

She jumped as her niece met these words with a loud, sharp guffaw.

“And do you truly believe every single word that you read in the pages of the daily paper, Auntie?” she asked Grace, tone snide and disbelieving. “Especially if these words are written in the context of a purchased advertisement?” she paused here, adding as she waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the defenseless newspaper, “If a man posts an advertisement to secure himself a bride, how on earth is he going to word the ad? ‘Howdy Ladies, I am an ignorant, dog ugly, and proudly unkind man in search of a wife. Come one, come all, the line forms to the right’!”

Grace doubled over, guffawing in spite of herself as she considered these comical words.

“All right then Girlie, you are a clever one,” she acknowledged, adding as she arched her eyebrows in what seemed a show of keen curiosity, “What, though, if the gentleman happens to speak the truth in his ad? What if he is indeed as kind and handsome as he claims, and what if he would prove a stellar and highly knowledgeable partner in your own ranching endeavor? Why not, at least, bite the bullet and give the gent a chance?”

Amy shook her head.

“I shall not for one moment entertain the horrid notion of becoming some man’s mail order bride,” she spat out these last words as though they were venom, adding as she planted her hands on her hips, “You well know, Aunt Grace, that my dear departed Ma and Pa raised me to be a proper lady—and an honest, hardworking at that; not a glorified lady of the evening who will exchange her body for room and board.”

Grace bit her lip.

“I well know this, Girl. I thought long and hard before bringing that blasted ad to your kind attention,” she allowed, tone soft and sad, adding in a louder, more determined voice, “Even so I must say that this here man sounds like a gentleman—someone in search of a princess, not a fancy lady. And I do believe he will treat you as such.” She paused here, adding as she made a broad gesture in the direction of her niece’s expanding stomach, “He also might make a good father for your babe, which is exactly what you need at this moment.”

Amy thought a moment, then sighed.

“It is true, I must think of the youngin first,” she conceded, stroking her rounded stomach with protective hands as she added in a reflective tone, “As much as I wish to toil in my fields, working my own land and building the ranch that I began with my beloved husband, I fear that the same daily regime of hard labor that claimed my Vance’s life might come to claim my child as well—and perhaps me, right along with her.”

Grace arched her eyebrows.

“How are you so certain, my girl, that your child is a girl?”

Amy shrugged.

“I simply know,” she affirmed, adding as she lifted her chin to proud effect, “And I would not have my daughter believe that a woman can be bought and sold like chattel, hired to warm a man’s bed and make his meals like a glorified fancy woman.”

Grace nodded.

“So the matter is settled, then?” she asked, adding as she inclined her head in Amy’s direction, “You will not be answering the gentleman’s ad?”

Amy shook her head.

“Now I did not say that,” she corrected her aunt, adding with a mysterious smile, “I do believe that the gentleman and I may be able to reach a certain compromise.”

*****

The dawn of a new week found a tense Amy in the back of a hired stagecoach, hands clenched protectively over her near bursting stomach as the carriage beneath her jarred and rocked down the surface of a hard road.

She came dressed this day in her finest day dress, a striking foot length calico work graced with a shade of robin’s egg blue and a delicate floral print of peerless ivory; a gown that glowed not only in its overall look but in its delicate accents, which included a fitted calico top with a scoop neckline and a matching skirt trimmed in pure ruffled lace, wide flounced sleeves, delicate buttons lining the front, a bustled back, as well as a soft white cotton underskirt and prim ivory gloves to complete the look.

Yet although she had dressed in the role of a proper Western lady, Amy felt far more like an Amazon warrior; one of those fierce, strong muscled women she’d read about in books, reading by candlelight after Vance went to bed.

Much like these brave warrior women that she learned about and secretly idolized, Amy felt strong and unbending in her resolve; and more than clear about the specific, very pointed mission that whisked her that day across the wilds of the Texas frontier.

All too soon for her liking, Amy’s stagecoach came to a resounding halt at the center of a field; one that marked the address specified in the newspaper advertisement that had launched this whole disastrous catastrophe in the first place.

“Why on earth am I doing this?” she mused with a sigh, rising to her slippered feet as her stagecoach driver—a silver-haired gentleman with a kind smile—opened her door and offered her his hand.

“Careful, Miss,” he urged her, his eyes flitting downward to her burgeoning stomach as he helped her out of her carriage.

Dropping some coins into his palm and thanking him for his services, Amy watched the stagecoach take leave of the field as she looked after it with longing eyes.

“Perhaps I should call him back,” she mused in silence, adding as she clutched her small floral suitcase with tense, near frantic fingers, “I truly have no business being here.”

Her troubled mediation was disrupted by a lush, very pleasant floral scent; a scent that flew forth to her on the wings of the wind, teasing and soothing her addled senses as she felt her shoulders relax.

“Roses,” she immediately identified the fragrance, her gaze following its ethereal tendrils as she beheld a scent that defined beauty.

Before her, spanned a sprawling field that brimmed with golden roses; a signature Texas crop that she’d always longed to grow on her own ranch, that bloomed forth with large velvety blossoms kissed sweetly by the sun above them.

Suddenly her worries and anxieties melted away, leaving in their place a girlish fervor that added a definite spring to her step.

In a moment she was ten years old again, twirling carefree with her eyes shut in the midst of roses whose very presence brought succor to her soul.

“Um, Ma’am?”

Coming to an abrupt halt at the center of the field, Amy felt her smile dissolve as she realized she’d been caught; that her momentary escape from her troubled life had come to a resounding halt.

“Of course,” she thought, adding as she opened her eyes, “Now it is time for me to meet the no doubt hideous gent that I am soon bound to marry.”

Yet when she finally garnered the courage to face the man who addressed her from the edge of the field, she beheld a vision even more beautiful than the roses before them.

Standing tall and statuesque above the land he tended, the man before her boasted a muscular bronzed form that reflected long days spent out on the range. Yet while his toned masculine physique betrayed him as a rancher of the frontier, his face and hair rendered the likeness of a virtual angel on earth.

His flowing mane of golden hair indeed seemed kissed by the sun itself, framing as it did a chiseled face that boasted aquiline eyes, carved cheekbones and full moist lips.

Lips that now spread in an amused smile as their gazes collided above the field.

“Can I help you?” he asked her, arching his feathered eyebrows in a show of keen curiosity.

Clearing her throat loudly, a stone-faced Amy squared her slender shoulders and lifted her pert chin firm in his direction.

“Mr. Thomas Wyatt?” she asked, tone cool and officious.

The rancher nodded.

“Guilty as charged, Ma’am,” he declared, charming her with a soft, smooth Southern accent as he struck a courtly bow in her direction.

Amy pursed her pearl pink lips, observing that the image and demeanor of Thomas Wyatt more than matched the vision he’d cultivated of himself in the context of his advertisement. The charming, kind, impossibly handsome man portrayed on paper seemed to materialize magically before her; and she mused that if she could somehow transport herself back in time, back before the time of marriage and babies, ranching and responsibilities, she might well be tempted to dance with this gentleman at a cotillion, or flirt with him at a tea.

Yet within an instant the passing of a hard brisk wind awakened her harshly to the reality of her life; reminding her that her prince was dead—along with any and all semblance of frivolous romantic dreams. Her future held within it no promise of balls, teas or cotillions; and, as far as she was concerned, no romances or heartfelt marriages either. She had come here on this hot Texas morning to strike a merger—not make a match. At least not a match that came from the heart.

“Well good day to you, Thomas Wyatt,” she said finally, walking forward to offer him her hand as she introduced herself, “I am Amy Phillips, the lady who recently sent you a letter of interest in regards to your advertisement for a helper at the ranch.”

She rather enjoyed the effect moments later, as the man before her gaped outright; dropping the hoe he held tight in his hand as he processed what was apparently most unexpected news.

In lieu of a verbal reply, his wide azure eyes took a long walk down the length of her (mostly) slender frame; seeming to warm in appreciation as he regarded her fair skinned, rosy-cheeked face—one that came complete with wide dark eyes, sculpted cheekbones and pearl pink lips—and her lustrous mane of waist-length reddish gold hair, then again fly wide as they seemed to peruse the bulge that protruded from her slender frame.

“Yes, that’s right,” Amy finally spoke up, bringing his attention back to her face. “I did not come alone.” She paused here, adding as she inclined her head sharp in his direction, “My baby, in fact, is the entire reason that I’m here today. I need work, and badly. I need a good amount of income that I can send home to my aunt, so she can hire me a couple of ranch hands, to help me work my own land.”

Thomas nodded.

“I see,” he mumbled, although his shockingly wide eyes and gaping—if full and appealingly soft—lips betrayed the fact that he did not see—at all. “Well Miss, I am sorry to say that I may have misrepresented myself in my advertisement; this probably owing to the fact that I am a right shoddy writer, at best. The fact remains, though, that I advertised in particular for a mail order bride.”

With these words he ducked his head, shuffling his booted feet beneath him as he mumbled embarrassed, “I was seeking a wife, not a ranch hand. And, no offense intended Ma’am, but you already seem to be somebody else’s bride—or so it would appear.”

Amy couldn’t help herself. For what seemed like the first time since her husband’s death, she guffawed outright; doubling over to let loose with a robust laugh that did much to relieve her tightly held tension.

The relief was momentary, however, as she considered how to respond to her host’s confused words.

“Well the truth is, Mr. Wyatt, that I am another man’s bride,” she revealed, adding as she cast her own gaze downward, in the direction of her host’s signature crop, “When I see these beautiful roses that you grow, I’m reminded of my wedding bouquet; the flowers that I carried down the aisle to marry Vance Phillips, the man of my dreams and heart.” She paused here, adding as she stared him straight in the eyes, “The only man, I must tell you, that I will ever love.”

Thomas stood up straight at this news, his sculpted cleft chin flying upward as he met her gaze in full.

“Then why are you not at home with him?” he asked, his deep tone now reflecting the abject coolness he heard in his visitor’s voice. “As opposed to standing here with me, telling me that—although you have answered my ad for a mail order bride—you have no earthly intention of ever loving me?”

Amy sighed.

“You are correct, Mr. Wyatt,” she relented finally, adding as she folded her arms before her, “I should not have come to this place—only I have to tell you, no one awaits me at home.” She paused here, adding as she struggled to keep an even tone in the face of flooding emotions, “My husband passed away more than a month ago. One moment we worked side by side in our fields, enjoying our life together and joyfully anticipating the birth of our first child.” She paused here, adding as she shut her eyes tight, “Then within moments it all fell apart. My husband had a bad heart, and he collapsed in the field; leaving me all alone.”

With these words, her eyes flew open, and her chin again raised; once again she drew that all important second wind, staring her host straight in the eyes as she told him, “In my heart, Mr. Wyatt, I remain the wife of Vance Phillips. I shall not under any circumstances love or even lay with another man.” She paused here, adding as her tone softened and became more tentative, “Only I don’t see how I can work my land on my own, or for that matter manage our bills. I thought that I could come to your ranch and cook for you, maybe clean your house and do a little field work—more after my baby is birthed. I could have been a big help to you….”

She trailed off here, adding as she turned away, “I can see that I’ve made a mistake, Mr. Wyatt. I am dreadfully sorry that I wasted your time—I’ll let you alone and go back to my ranch, where I belong.”

Amy froze as she felt her shoulder grazed by a soft, gentle hand; one that turned her slow but sure in the direction of its bearer.

She relaxed as she beheld the crystal blue eyes that had captivated her from the moment they’d met; and now, she noted, these eyes came filled with a welcome mix of tender and sublime emotions.

Understanding. Empathy. Tenderness. The very things that she needed at this time, that few others seemed willing to show her.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I turned away a young woman in your condition, at this time in her life?” he asked, adding with a defined nod, “Furthermore, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I coerced a woman into being my wife?”

With these words, he clasped her hands between his and stared with a smile into her eyes.

“I would like to invite you to stay on with me here at the ranch.,” he told her, tone kind and abiding. “I’ll give you a room of your own with a comfortable bed, and all the food you can eat. When and if you feel up to it, you can help out with the cooking and housekeeping, perhaps do a bit of field work when you need exercise—but I won’t see you overexert yourself. I ain’t no millionaire Ma’am, but I do pretty well for myself. And I’d like to share this ranch, this new life that I’m building, with you.”

Amy smiled, squeezing his fingers between hers as she exhaled in spite of herself; her shoulders sagging as she finally took a moment to relax—to cease for an instant with her worry and concern and bask in the rays of her beloved Texas sun.

The respite was brief.

“What precisely do you want in return for all this luxury treatment?” she demanded, fixing her host with a suspicious look as she broke suddenly away from him. “I will know this now, Mr. Wyatt before we take another step forward in this mad plan.”

Her host sighed.

“Please call me Thomas,” he bid her, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “I suspect now that it was a mistake to place a mail order bride ad, in particular. People seem to assume certain things about a man who orders a mail order bride—that he’s not a true gentleman at all.” He paused here, adding as he shifted the brim of the tall ivory hat that sat atop his regal head, “I’m not that kind of man, Ma’am. I love this here land so much that I want to share it with someone; a woman who shares my love for Texas, for the land.” He paused here, adding as he once again took her hand in his, “I just want to share my life. Would you give me that opportunity, Amy?”

Amy thought a moment, then nodded.

“Well Mr.—Thomas—I guess that I’m willing to give it a try,” she conceded, adding with a shy smile, “And you may call me Amy.”

*****

Amy awoke the next morning to find herself in paradise.

Even before she opened her eyes she experienced the sensation of divine luxury, a feeling supplied by the presence of a lace trimmed floral print comforter as it cradled and coddled her body; a form further comforted by the shine of luminous sunbeams as they flew inward through a nearby window, and by the scent of roses that seemed to grow just outside the same window, intermingled with the more distant but uncomfortable scent of fresh cooked buttermilk pancakes.

Finally opening her eyes, a still sleepy Amy basked in the vision of a bedroom that seemed custom made for a princess; a luxurious refuge adorned by café style floral print curtains, plush ivory carpeting and ivory, bronze bordered bureaus.

“How on earth did I end up here?” she mused, thoughts thick and groggy. “Oh, I don’t care—as long as I am not required to move anytime within the next year or so.”

A loud knock on her bedroom door stirred her awake moments later; reminding her with a jolt as to her current location—and also of the man who owned this home.

Gathering her crisp cotton sheets tight around her chin in a protective move, Amy called out in a tentative voice, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Thomas. I’ve come with your breakfast,” her host answered, his tone tentative and reverent.

Amy nodded—then pondered just how ineffectual such a move was with a closed door between them.

“Come in,” she said finally, sitting upward in bed as her door swung open to reveal a most unusual sight.

Although dressed in the denim blue jeans, crisp white shirt and black rawhide boots and hat combination typical of a rancher, her host still looked every inch the role of a dashing butler; carrying as he did a tray topped with a hearty stack of piping hot buttermilk pancakes, and a tall brown mug that brimmed with steaming hot cocoa.

“Breakfast is served,” Thomas announced with a grin, seating himself on the edge of her bed and setting the tray before her. “Enjoy.”

Amy did just that seconds later, digging deep into her succulent morning feast as she pinned her host with inquisitive eyes.

“Delicious!” she praised him, adding as she inclined her head sharp in his direction, “I simply must ask, though, who occupied this room before I did?”

Thomas shrugged.

“No one to speak of, Ma’am,” he told her. “Truth be told it was never slept in before last night.”

Amy nodded.

“So you as a Texas rancher tend to prefer lace comforters and floral print café curtains?” she queried, accompanying her words with a long hard look that brought a loud guffaw from deep in Thomas’ throat.

“Not at all, Ma’am,” he admitted, adding with a soft smile, “You see, my ma and pa were the original settlers who claimed this land, about 15 years ago. Their home still stands, just up the dirt road.” He paused here, adding in a sentimental tone, “My pa always insisted that his home be decorated in the style of a ranch house—with a lot of browns and blacks, with rawhides hung up all over the home and statues of bulls and horses on every available surface. So when I built my own ranch house, I set aside one room just for my ma—a place where she could come, write the poetry that she loved to pen, and just stare out the window at the Texas moon.”

Amy smiled.

“Well that was kind of you, Thomas,” she praised him, adding as she took another hearty bite of her steaming hot pancakes, “Are your folks still living?”

Thomas shook his head.

“My pa has been gone for six years, my ma for three. I miss them so much,” he revealed, adding as a telltale veil of tears brimmed forth from his aquiline eyes, “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I know a cowboy ain’t supposed to cry.”

Amy said nothing, just wrapped her arms around his muscled shoulders and pulled him closer to her; telltale tears escaping her own eyes as the two tilted their foreheads together and their hands clenched between them.

“Do not even dream of apologizing to me,” Amy insisted, adding as she ran a comforting hand through the silken lengths of his thick gold hair, “I reckon that, at this point, we both need a good ol’ cry.”

The couple said nothing for several moments, just leaned into one another as their hands remained clenched and their tears fell free between them.

A wave of warmth coursed free through Amy’s being as she tilted her chin upward; smiling soft and tender as her doting host wiped the tears from the surface of her fair-skinned cheeks.

This smile broadened moments later, as a warm-eyed Thomas tilted her delicate chin in his hand and covered her mouth with his.

Touching her lips with a whisper soft kiss, Thomas massaged her mouth with his in a tender advance that nonetheless resounded with a certain, unmistakable passion.

Kissing him in kind return, Amy plied his lips with tender affection as the two drew closer, her senses lulled and her worries forgotten as they lost themselves in a peaceful—if passionate—reverie.

The feeling fled them all too soon.

“God Almighty,” the rancher swore softly, breaking their kiss as he jumped from Amy’s bed and made fast tracks toward the door. “What am I doing, taking dreadful advantage of an expectant woman like this?”

Amy shook her head.

“No Thomas,” she countered, adding as she made a broad gesture between them, “I wanted you to kiss me.”

Yet he was gone.

“Criminy,” Amy exhaled, adding as she lay back in her bed with a frustrated sigh, “Why can’t anything in my life go smooth? Just one thing? Lordy, I guess it’s simply too much to ask.”

*****

He hated himself.

For the first time in a life guided by the concepts of civility and nobility, and always overseen by the Biblical verses his mother had taught him as a child, Thomas Wyatt felt shame and self-loathing; alien emotions that plagued his heart and addled his troubled soul.

Standing in the midst of a fragrant rose patch that needed his attention, Thomas nonetheless picked at the soil beneath him with a weary, lethargic hoe; his face downturned below the brim of his hat as his mouth turned downward in a woebegone frown.

“What foul demon possessed me just now? Why did I have to go and take advantage of a proper, innocent lady?” he paused here, adding with a slight shrug, “OK well perhaps she’s not so innocent, considering the fact that she’s in the family way—but she is without a doubt a proper widow still in love with her husband, God rest his soul. I betrayed the both of them when I kissed Miss Amy; the woman who I promised to treat with the upmost propriety and respect. And I also betrayed her unborn child, kissing its mother weeks before its birth.”

Throwing aside the hoe with a frustrated growl, Thomas sighed as his shoulders sank with the weight of his culpable guilt.

“Devil take me!” he bellowed, balling his fists beside him as he added, “I deserve the punishment. Or if God does see fit to grant me another chance, then please send me some sort of a sign—some message that I am not as foul and sinful as I perceive myself to be on this day.”

“Shut yer pitiful mouth and get to work, oh Sultan of Self Pity. Now!”

His head shooting upward, Thomas pursed his lips in a show of keen curiosity as his desperate summons was met by the sound of a distinctly feminine voice.

“Well now Ma always did theorize that God was a woman,” he mumbled, casting a wide-eyed curious glance in the direction of the sky. “Guess she was right.”

“Indeed, she was, and don’t you forget it, Cowboy.”

Thomas jumped, this time recognizing the delicate Southern lilt of his guest at the ranch.

He smiled in spite of himself at the sight of a scowling Amy, now dressed in a basic denim work dress with her arms folded firmly before her.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she admonished him, adding as she walked forward with purposeful steps and retrieved the fallen hoe, “We have work to do.”

Soon the pair stood side by side at the center of the rose patch, tending Thomas’ prized crop as he continued to steal cautious looks in Amy’s direction.

“Are you sure you feel like working the fields, Ma’am?” he asked her, inclining his head in her direction as he tended his own corner of the patch. “Wouldn’t you rather head back to the ranch house?”

Tossing aside her hoe with a frustrated sigh, Amy planted her hands on her hips and stared her concerned host straight in the eyes.

“We see here before us a garden filled with flowers,” she told him, making a broad flourish across the land before him as she added with eyebrows arched, “I am not one of them. I’m a strong and sturdy farmwoman, Thomas. I actually like to work. You don’t need to worry about overworking me, as I shall always let you know when and if I need a rest.” She paused here, adding with a slight smile in his direction, “You also don’t need to worry about kissing me either. I like to kiss as well—especially when the individual doing the kissing just happens to be you.”

Thomas exhaled, gracing her with a boyish grin as he considered these words.

“I’m so relieved to hear those words, Amy,” he revealed, adding as he retrieved his hoe and offered her another that lay at the corner of the garden, “And believe me, I’m well aware that you’re not a shrinking violet. You are a woman strong in your convictions,” he paused here, adding as he regarded her with inquiring eyes, “And according to what you said yesterday, you are darned and determined to love only one man for the remainder of your days.”

Amy bit her lip.

“Well Thomas, until the moment we met, I didn’t rightly think that I could love anyone else,” she revealed, adding as she shuffled her feet beneath her, “At one point, though, I may have said the same thing about Vance. I was always independent as a gal, and I had no earthly designs on life as a wife and mother.”

Thomas nodded.

“So what did catch your interest?” he asked her, listening intent as the two set to work at the center of their field.

Amy shrugged.

“I always earned pretty high marks back at the old school house, so I figured I might make a good school marm,” she revealed, adding in a lower tone, “But then Vance swept into my life, just like a Texas tornado. Between romance and marriage and babies, I do believe I kind of forgot who I was. My husband became my world—and until yesterday, I think I just kind of lost myself.” She paused here, adding as she raised a finger for emphasis, “Now don’t be misunderstanding. I did adore my husband….”

“…but he’s gone,” Thomas completed, saying the words he knew she couldn’t. “And you, a young, talented and beautiful woman, remain.”

Setting aside his hoe, Thomas turned in full to face her as he fixed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’re still alive, Amy, and you have your whole life ahead of you,” he reminded her, adding as he massaged his agile fingers into the muscles of her slight, work-weary shoulder. “And I’d honored if you chose to spend even a small part of that life with me.”

Covering his hand with hers, Amy graced him with a beneficent smile as she affirmed, “I would like to, Thomas.” She paused here, adding as she rested her hand on her bulging stomach, “First, though, I have to get this baby birthed. This little one has to be my first priority.”

Thomas grinned.

“And once you do, my darling, I would love to court you properly,” he proposed, leaning forward as he graced her cheek with whisper soft lips.

Letting loose with an uncharacteristic giggle, Amy wrapped her arms tight around Thomas’ muscular shoulders and leaned for just a moment against his tall, sculpted frame; relishing the feeling as he drew her body to his in a warm, loving hug.

“It might be a mite difficult to take me about in my current condition and convince folks that you’re courting me proper,” she observed, adding as she graced her host with a nudge of gentle affection, “They might believe that you and I were up to an entirely different brand of reapin’ and sowin, if you catch my meaning.”

Thomas’ eyes flew wide as he considered these suggestive words. Then he started laughing. Hard.

“You’re one of a kind, Amy,” he praised her, gracing her with an affirming squeeze and a warm kiss on the forehead. “And I do mean that in the best possible way.”

Amy let loose with a rain of tinkling laughter that flew free on the breezes above them.

“Why thank you kindly, Thomas,” she returned, adding as she glanced sideways in his direction, “I think.”

The couple continued on much in this light, animated fashion for the next few weeks; working side by side amongst their beloved roses by day and retiring to their comfortable ranch house in the evening.

Amy marveled at the way that Thomas insisted on preparing every meal by her side; and she simply had to admit that, though she’d never breathe a word of this notion to him, Thomas’ culinary skills exceeded her own.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked him one day, talking between bites of a succulent Texas steak that he had prepared for their dinner. “My dear departed husband, God rest his soul, nary knew the difference between a ladle and a lentil.”

Thomas laughed.

“I do love your way with words,” he praised her.

More than willing to share her own gift—one that involved a love of reading, teaching, and learning—Amy read to Thomas each night by the fire, reciting classics such as Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” to “Les Miserables” by Victor Hugo and explaining their deeper meanings and contexts to a fascinated Thomas.

“I cannot thank you enough, Ma’am, for introducing me to all of these wonderful books,” he told her one evening, clutching her hands between them one night before a raging fire, “Oh I did my share of reading in school, to be sure, and Ma read me her poetry; but we never did peruse the classics. And I love the way that you interpret each story, coming up with so many bright ideas about each and every one of them.” He paused here, adding as he leaned forward to erase all distance between them, “You’re a whole new world, my lovely—one I long to explore.”

Amy froze, setting her beloved copy of “Pride and Prejudice” aside as she discovered a gentleman even more handsome and captivating than her beloved Mr. Darcy—and, she had to admit, far warmer and kinder.

“And did I mention more handsome?” she mused now, admiring the way that Thomas’ carved, bronzed face shone radiant in the light of the fire—along with the long silken mane of golden hair that likened him to an angel.

With very good reason, she figured.

She did not resist as he covered her lips with his, his full soft lips massaging hers in the sweetest of kisses.

For a moment the couple lingered close, their lips smacking together as their arms clasped between them and he drew her closer to him.

Sinking contented in his big strong arms, Amy relaxed and succumbed to the feeling of being loved and cared for; their bodies writhing together as his hands ran like warm water down the length of her work-weary back, coaxing and massaging as she allowed herself the luxury of truly being loved.

“Heaven help me, Amy, but I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered against her lips, adding as he cradled her to him, “Suddenly I don’t remember much of what my life was like before you came along.”

Amy froze, pursing her lips as she struggled to conjure an image of the man who had given her the child now growing in her belly.

Then, after summoning only a fading, scratchy image of her late husband, she excused herself and retired to bed.

*****

He hated himself.

Again.

Standing once again at the center of his prized rose bed, Thomas paused in his morning duties to once again reflect on a romantic evening gone awry.

“I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loves me too. I can see it in her eyes, I can feel it in her kiss,” he mused, adding with a sigh of deep frustration, “I can give her everything that my world has to offer: the love of a good man who—in her eyes, at least, I ain’t no judge—is passing good looking as well. A beautiful home. Good food and roses.” He paused here, adding as he kicked some errant dirt beneath his feet, “Even so, every moment I’m with her, I’m competing with a ghost. I can’t be her first husband.”

He fell silent then as he felt her behind him; her presence haunting him as always as the wild Texas winds blew fierce around them.

Turning slowly to face a (for once) silent Amy, he spread his arms between them as he declared, “Amy, I swear I had no intentions of hurting you last night, or of being too forward. As I have told you, you are never required to do anything with me that you are not prepared to do.” He paused here, adding as he lifted his chin to proud effect, “I do need to know, however, just where I stand with you Darlin’. Are we business pardners here at the ranch? Are we the best of friends?”

With these words, he stared deep into her eyes, which at this point reflected no discernable emotion; making no move to walk closer to her, even as his heart reached out to her.

“Are we in love?” he entreated her, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me true, Amy.”

In lieu of offering Thomas a verbal reply, Amy ran forward into his arms; letting loose with a deep, heartfelt sob as she sank resigned in his encompassing embrace.

“Yes,” she released on a belabored breath, clutching her new lover closer than close.

Even as he cradled his beloved with strong, loving arms, Thomas shook his head in a show of blatant confusion as he considered her cryptic answer.

“Yes,” Amy repeated, adding as she drew back to grace him with a soft beneficent smile, “Yes, we are ‘pardners’—the roses that we grow are beyond beautiful, and I love this land just as much as my own. Yes, we are friends—you understand me in a way that no one ever has, not even my husband. You perceive me as smart and funny, not just pretty. You actually listen to me when I speak, and you encourage me to share what I know and teach you things. Most men, they cannot be taught.”

With these words she seized his sumptuous lips in a passionate kiss; conveying her love in an affectionate gesture that he returned with the greatest love.

“And yes, I do love you,” she declared in a whisper, adding as she took his chiseled face in her loving hands and memorized every flawless feature with the gentle stroke of her fingertips, “More than I can say, Thomas. And I promise never again to run from you. Never, my darling.”

She took in her breath as a besotted Thomas fell to his knees before her, clutching her hands in his as he bent low to kiss her slippered feet.

“I love you,” he returned on a sob, adding as he stared up at her with adoring eyes, “And I promise never to leave you. Never, my darling.”

With great reluctance, the couple pulled away from one another and returned to their work; pausing throughout the day to steal kisses, share jokes and secret smiles, and clasp hands even as they tended the roses that both so adored.

Taking things a step further, Thomas gathered a rich assortment of fresh golden blooms, radiant as they shone in the light of a bright Texas sun, and gathered them in the form of an ebullient bouquet; holding the luminous arrangement behind his back as he approached her with a teasing smile.

“I have a surprise for you, my lady,” he told her, adding as his hand sprang forth with his ebullient nature made gift, “Although their beauty does not rival your own, I do hope that you’ll still accept and enjoy them.”

Staring at the bouquet with wide eyes, Amy let loose with a sharp gasp as her gaze focused on its fresh golden beauty.

“So I take it you like the bouquet?” Thomas asked with a chuckle. “I sure am glad, Darlin’.”

His eyebrows shot upward as she took the flowers from his offering hand, clutching their stems with unseeming tightness as she let loose with a low sharp moan.

“So it seems you REALLY like the bouquet,” her suitor observed, adding as he cocked his head in what seemed a show of keen curiosity, “Its beauty, in fact, seems to have stunned and left you speechless beyond the point of reason.”

Doubling over with a loud, sharp shriek, Amy gasped as she kept a fierce hold on the erstwhile stems of her rich rose gift.

“Now Amy,” Thomas observed, softening his next words with a gentle smile, “You don’t have to exaggerate your enthusiasm for my benefit—the roses are hardly culled from real gold, you know….”

“Could you shut your dang smooth talkin’ mouth for 10 seconds or so? I’m in pain here!” Amy bellowed, adding as she dropped her flowers sharp to her side and grabbed her bulging stomach with clutching hands. “The baby is coming! Now, if not sooner!”

Gasping outright, Thomas rushed forward to scoop his wailing lady up in two sheltering arms and run for the house with feverish steps; not stopping until he had lain her trembling body in the sheets of her whisper soft bed.

“I’m going to run into town and get Doc Adams, the man that birthed me and has taken care of our family for years,” he told her, identifying the kindly silver-haired physician who had brought him into the world as well as helped to ease his parents’ transition out of it. “Don’t move from that spot, Amy!”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, his irritable patient pitched her head backward and let loose with a howl that betrayed her pain.

“Rest assured I won’t,” she promised him, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “I mean, where would I go exactly?”

Thomas thought a moment, then nodded.

“Right, good point,” he answered, adding as he raced for the staircase, “I love you!”

*****

In all of his years practicing medicine, Dr. Calvin Adams never had seen a patient in greater distress; one whose obvious degrees of pain and exhaustion were painful to regard.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lay down a while?” he asked, squeezing the hand of the stricken soul who now kneeled motionless beside a convenient bed.

Jumping to his feet with a sharp grunt of protest, an indignant Thomas Wyatt balled his fists at his sides as he considered these patronizing words.

“I’m absolutely fine, thank you very much,” he informed his concerned physician, adding as he made a broad gesture in the direction of the bed before them, “And, for that matter, so are Amy and Amelia.”

Letting loose with a mighty shriek that would do her mother proud, the blue-eyed, porcelain skinned baby Amelia jumped into the sheltering arms of her mother, who opened her eyes to regard her beloved with a sweet, gracious smile.

“This isn’t even your baby,” she reminded him, adding as she reached forward to take his hand in hers, “Yet you stayed here by my side as we brought her into the world together,” she paused here, adding as her eyes widened in what seemed a show of sheer wonder, “And you didn’t even pass out cold!”

Thomas laughed, bringing her hand to his soft lips for a warm affirming kiss.

“As far as I’m concerned, Ma’am, you both belong to me now,” he told her, adding as she met these words with arched eyebrows and a side-eyed glance, “While still remaining strong individual types, of course. And, furthermore, I belong to the two of you as well. Although I never shall venture to replace your daughter’s father, in your memory or her heart, I aim to be the very best father and companion that I can be for our odd little family here.”

Amy frowned.

“Father and…companion?” she repeated, adding as those feathered eyebrows shot up to an all-time high, “Could you perhaps think of a better word to define your relations with me, Cowboy?”

Thomas pursed his lips, getting the sinking feeling he’d just said something wrong—and how.

“Pardner?” he suggested.

Amy shook her head.

“Nope,” she insisted, pursing her own pearl pink lips in a show of distaste as Thomas shuffled his feet beneath him. “Try again.”

Thomas paused, keen awareness dawning in his eyes as—fully and finally—he caught the lady’s meaning.

“Husband?” he suggested. “Could this be the word you mean?” he paused, here, adding as his azure eyes flew wide with the dawning of awareness, “You mean you’re finally ready to become my bride?”

Without awaiting Amy’s reply, an elated Thomas turned to the doctor who in all likelihood just birthed the first of many babies in this house and told him, “Hear that, Doc? You’re my witness. This fine lady here just said she’d marry me.”

Then without hesitation, the groom to be dropped to his knees beside the bed. And this time, the doc noticed as he gathered a gurgling baby Amelia in his arms, Thomas looked once again like he just might faint as he took Amy’s hands in his.

“Miss Amy,” he declared, adding as he stared deep into her eyes, “I love you so true, more than life itself. Would you do me the honor of being my bride?”

Amy smiled.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she cooed with a playful wink, adding in a softer, sincerer tone, “I would be honored, Thomas, to be your bride.”

Surging forward across the bed, the couple’s lips collided in an impassioned kiss; one whose ardent tenderness seemed binding in nature. Thomas seized Amy’s mouth with the fondest ardor, his full soft lips massaging hers as they murmured with contentment.

For just a moment Amy felt their surroundings dissolve around them; leaning hard into Thomas’ kiss as they drew closer together.

Then suddenly she remembered that they were not alone. Eyes flying open in a single smooth flourish, she broke their kiss as she pointed a not so subtle finger in the direction of their family doctor.

“Sorry,” the couple mumbled in synch, averting their gazes to the physician who now shaded Amelia’s eyes as he let loose with an affectionate chuckle.

“You certainly do have two insane parents,” he informed a gurgling Amelia, adding with a wink, “And I do believe that I’ve never met a more fortunate child.”

*****

Five months later

For the occasion of her second wedding, Amy had no desire to revisit the wedding chapel that served as the cornerstone of her provincial hometown. That chapel, she believed, would always be a special place for her and Vance; a place where memories lived.

Instead, and as suited their usual style, she and Thomas did things their own way; choosing to marry right square in the center of their rose field.

“This is the same place where you repeatedly insisted that you never would love me,” he reminded her.

Amy rolled her eyes.

“Go on and rub it in Cowboy,” she chided him, even as she reached forward to kiss him senseless for what had to be the tenth time. That day.

On the morning of their wedding, Amy wore a lush ivory calico concoction that consisted of a polonaise—one boasting a yoke front and back trimmed with ruffled lace—and a frothy bustled full-length skirt with a flounced trim and a lengthy cascading train; one that also came lined with the finest lace. She carried a dew glistened bouquet of radiant golden roses, picked from her own garden; additional florals adorned the strands of her free-flowing reddish gold hair, in the form of fresh grown baby’s breath that completed her ethereal look.

The beams of a brilliant Texas sun guided her tender footfall as she made her way between fresh blooming rows of golden roses; the most splendorous of which stood tall and proud at the center of the garden.

It seemed odd, she figured, to compare her very masculine figure of a future husband to a rose; yet as she beheld the manner in which his flowing blond hair and bronzed face both shone in the light above them and the way that his crystalline eyes came aglow the moment that he saw her, she knew full well that the comparison fit.

Briefly dragging her gaze away from the subject of her keen attention, she beamed at the assembly of family and friends gathered to witness their nuptials that day.

Her smile shone especially bright the moment she saw Amelia, herself adorned in a charming lilac print calico dress with a lace collar, puffed sleeves and full skirt. A matching floral headband atop her still bald head completed the adorable look.

Holding Amelia was a glowing Aunt Grace, herself wearing a puffed sleeved, high-collared dress of lavender calico as well as a snide smile; one that just seemed to scream, “I told you so.”

Finally, Amy’s gaze returned to the man of her heart; one dressed resplendent and much in the fashion of a frontier groom.

Wearing a sleek cotton yoked shirt with a banded collar and stamped metal buttons, along with a black paisley vest with matching jacket and trousers as well as a smart bolo tie, Thomas looked every inch the handsome dashing bridegroom; one who held out his hands to her as she joined him at the altar.

The couple stared deep into one another’s eyes as their attending pastor—a short, balding gentleman who appeared just a bit out of place at the center of a field but smiled gamely all the same—began to state the classic and conventional vows of matrimony.

Then, as there was nothing remotely conventional about the two of them and their most peculiar romance, they said vows all their own—because they could.

“My darling Amy,” Thomas addressed his new wife, tone warm and sincere. “When I ordered myself a mail order bride, I well imagined a woman that reflects your beauty and grace. I never imagined someone of your incredible spirit and amazing intelligence. You are an exquisite human being, Amy, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you and Amelia.”

Amy smiled.

“My dear Thomas,” she returned, clasping his hands tight between hers. “When I answered your ad for a mail order bride, I was darned and determined not to fall in love with you—and the sole reason I use the word darned, mind you, is because my aunt and daughter are present. Yep, my convictions ran pretty strong. Darned strong, as a matter of fact,” she paused here to acknowledge the laughter of the crowd, adding in a softer, more serious tone, “I never imagined that I could fall in love again; but when a woman meets the perfect man—one who is kind, handsome, intelligent, hardworking, and endlessly loving—then what else can she do?”

“Well I know what you do,” he told her, adding as he swept his new wife up in his strong arms and pulled her closer than close, “You marry him.”

Amy thought a moment, then nodded.

“Well if you insist Cowboy. I’ll do just that,” she assented, adding as she waggled her eyes in something of a playful tease, “As long as you agree to give me one of those humdinger kisses for which you really should be famous. Then another. Then another. And if you fancy, you can keep on kissing me, for the rest of our natural lives.”

So the deal was made.

****

THE END

The Yellow Rose – A Clean Western Historical Romance

The singular act of shucking an ear of corn might not be considered the most glamorous or intellectually challenging activity; but, for some odd and inexplicable reason, Abigail Tompkins loved every moment of it.

Standing side by side with her parents, Ray and Sandra Tompkins, the owners and proprietors of the Diamond T Ranch in the heart of Austin, Texas, she basked with a smile in the sumptuous rays of the golden Texas sun; also reveling in the vision of endless emerald green fields that signified their life and industry.

Every morning she joined her parents in the tending of their 50-acre farm; a modest but fertile plot that also had served as the site of her childhood home.

Even as a child her tiny hands had picked and shucked these precious ears of corn; also garnering many precious memories in the company of the two dear friends who—as an added bonus—had brought her into the world. Mighty nice of them, she thought.

“I do believe, dear daughter, that you may have set some sort of record this morning for most ears of corn consecutively shucked,” her mother, a petite brunette with wide brown eyes, graced a grinning Abigail with a playful nudge as she added, “Congratulations!”

Standing upright at the center of the field, the tall, sturdy Abigail straightened her straw hat atop her dark haired head as she considered this curious praise.

“Well I must say it, Mother,” she said finally, “If that is the most exalted accomplishment that I can achieve throughout the course of my young life, then—well—that makes me feel pretty darned sad and pathetic, to be truthful. Thanks for that, Mum.”

Chuckling as they exchanged looks that reflected their keen amusement, Ray and Sandra turned as one to fix their 21-year-old daughter with a warm, affectionate smile.

“Make no mistake, Daughter. You accomplish every bit as much as we do on this ranch—more so, on some days,” Ray Tompkins assured her, adding as he reached forward to grace her sturdy shoulder with a loving pat, “And especially since both of your younger sisters abandoned us this year to marry their ever adoring beaux, we can’t tell you how much we appreciate you staying on with us—helping us build the Diamond T into something special.”

Abigail nodded.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she acknowledged his compliment, adding as she made a broad gesture across the heather strewn fields around them, “The Diamond T is my home—not to mention my business. I’d far rather shuck corn than birth babies or clean up after some man, any day of the week.” She paused here, adding as she thrust a sturdy finger square at the center of her own denim clad chest, “This is my job, and I do it well. And I never have even the slightest desire to be anywhere else.”

Ray nodded.

“Well your Ma and I can’t be any prouder,” he affirmed, adding as he graced his daughter with a warm, loving smile, “As you well know, Girl, your grandparents were the settlers who claimed this land. And now that they’ve passed, your ma and I have every intention of doing them proud. But we can’t do it without our dear lady farmer.”

Striking a deep bow in response to his words, Abigail tipped her straw hat in her parents’ direction before stepping sidewalks down their row of planted corn; soon leaning forward to continue her work as she whistled absently to herself. It would only be an hour or two; she mused, until she and her folks would retire to their ranch house to enjoy a hearty noon meal made from home grown—and handpicked--ingredients.

“And before we come back to the fields, I do believe I’ll encourage Pa to take a good long nap,” she thought, adding with a slight frown, “He has been looking a bit weary as of late. He perhaps needs to take a bit of rest—that is, if Ma and I can hog tie him into staying out of the fields for five darned minutes.”

The joyful peace of a quiet Texas morning was shattered seconds later, as she heard a harsh, ragged cry rent the air around her; drawing her gaze toward the source of the sound.

She gasped outright as she saw her father’s wiry body collapse outright on the ground beneath him; clutching his heart as he let loose with a single pained moan and his eyes snapped shut.

Kneeling immediately beside her husband, a distraught Sandra grabbed her husband’s hands and screamed, “Ray!”

Running to join her parents at the center of the field, a stone-faced Abigail struggled to stay composed as she too knelt beside the motionless body of the man who lay still and silent between his own corn rows.

“Pa,” she breathed, shaking her head from side to side as she leaned forward to put her ear to his chest.

Her eyes flew wide as she heard no sign of a heart beat; and as she saw an aura of eerie stillness overtake her father’s body. His eyes remained closed, his lips relaxed, his tanned, robust face drained of all color, and his chest felt as hard and hollow as a jagged edge rock in the Texas desert.

“Pa,” she repeated, this time with a rough sob as she wrapped her arms tight around his limp shoulders. “No!”

Sandra said nothing, only wrapped her husband and her daughter in two loving arms as—true to her nature—she tried to love the hurt away.

“This time, though,” she said aloud, adding as she strove to wipe the tears that flew free down her daughter’s face, “I simply can’t do it.”

*****

“I cannot believe that this has happened. Why?”

Since the death late last year of his beloved wife Elsa, Cal Hopkins had asked this question countless times; only to hear the empty echo of his own voice as—once again—he heard no answer.

How fast and far could a heart fall, he pondered; and how far and fast could a life fall apart? It was only a year ago that he and his beautiful Elsa, the love of his heart since their early school days, had been expecting their first child; receiving their good news in the wake of the most joyful and productive year of their lives.

Married at age 21, the couple was perceived by family and friends as the ideal representation of the perfect pair; a tall, muscular groom with thick ebony hair and eyes of crystal blue, paired with a petite golden haired woman who seemed the picture of femininity. Their wedding gift had come in the form of a large plot of land along the northern border of their native Texas; a lush green parcel that they knew would form the cornerstone of their lives together.

Soon they set to work side by side to turn a workable plot of land into a home and business; building a basic two-story wood plank house with a sloping roof and a homey front porch, and planting a field of Elsa’s chosen crop, the kind of sublime, sun-kissed golden roses that grew only in the heart of Texas.

“Elsa embodied the wild Texas rose,” Cal remembered, smiling slightly as he recalled his wife’s golden blonde, almond-eyed beauty. “It was no wonder that she loved those dang flowers so much. And when I saw how much money said dang flowers brought in, I grew to love them too.”

Yet he loved nothing more than the lovely, vibrant woman who worked every day beside him in the fields; showing the strength and fortitude of a seasoned rancher and the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a little girl.

Yet in his arms she remained a woman, making love with him long into the night as they fulfilled each and every fantasy that had carried them through their courtship. And when their passion finally culminated in the conception of a child, the couple celebrated both the success of their ranching venture and the expansion of their family.

“Everything was so perfect,” Cal remembered now, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “How did it go wrong?”

He’d near begged his wife to stay home and rest for the duration of her pregnancy; allowing him and his older brother Stephen to do the bulk of their farm work until well after the arrival of their child.

“Yet she knew that we couldn’t yet afford to hire farm hands. She also knew, furthermore, that my brother had his own ranch to run,” he recalled, adding as he ventured to take a deep sustaining breath, “So she insisted every day on comin’ to the fields with me, workin’ by my side in the heat of the Texas sun….”

He paused here, dark memories filling his psyche as he remembered their last day together; a 24-hour period that surely would haunt him until his dying day.

Elsa had appeared the picture of health in the early hours of the morning; her delicate face shining radiant with a warm maternal glow, her lustrous mane of heather blonde hair flying like a pennant in the Texas wind.

He’d never forget the vision of his lady walking toward him that day, clutching as she did a lush, fresh picked arrangement of golden Texas roses.

“I can’t believe the irony,” he released with a sigh, adding as his heart clung to her memory, “She looked just as she did on the day of our wedding, so young and beautiful, carrying her bouquet as she came to me.”

And then without warning their romantic dream morphed into a nightmare; his bride staggering before him as her breath escaped her and her eyes fluttered shut.

Although he’d carried her immediately back to their home and summoned the town doctor, Cal found that his desperate efforts to save his bride amounted to nothing. At the end of the day, all he could do was comfort his wife in his arms as she and their child passed from this life without so much as a word of goodbye.

Now he lived alone in the house that they built, just barely sleeping in their bed and working every day in the fields they had planted; coming to curse the roses she loved, as they only served to remind him of a joyful life destroyed.

His brother Stephen worked with him some days, and even stayed with him throughout just a few of his long, lonely nights; trying to distract him with poker games, horseshoe throws and other trivialities that he hoped would bring a smile to the face of his grief-stricken brother.

Finally, a frustrated Stephen suggested that his brother venture out of the house and try a new career; perhaps even pursuing his lifelong dream of a career in law enforcement.

“Before you met Elsa and decided to become a gentleman farmer, you had a dream to put on a silver badge and saddle up as the sheriff of this town,” he reminded his brother, adding as he punched his broad shoulder with a hard and hearty fist, “Elsa would want you to be happy, Cal. And she’d love the sight of you riding tall and proud through the city, keeping the peace and making a name for yourself.”

Reluctantly taking his brother’s advice, Cal rode into town one day and signed up to be a deputy at the local sheriff’s office; leaving Stephen to tend his ranch while he learned the particulars of law enforcement.

Although he did find some small measure of happiness and comfort in the day to day duties of his new job—a calling that allowed him to fulfill his boyhood dreams of keeping the peace and flashing a shiny badge—he also found that his newly honed law enforcement duties took him all too frequently away from his home and ranch. And while Stephen paid frequent visits to his fields, trying to maintain his brother’s rose gardens and other crops while also tending his own land, it soon became apparent that some extra hands were needed at Elsa’s Rose; the newly named ranch that Cal swore to make a success—if nothing else as a thriving and beautiful tribute to the rose of his life.

“Please don’t take offense Steve, you have really been my savior during some mighty rough days,” he told his brother one day. “I don’t think I could have survived the nightmare of Elsa’s death without you by my side, lifting me up and dang near cattle prodding me into going on with my life and work.” He paused here, adding with a frustrated sigh, “I just think that this ranch is getting too big for two people who have limited time to work the land. I do believe it’s high time that I hired, at least, one farm hand.”

Stephen, a handsome young blond man with clear blue eyes and a muscular build, nodded in hearty agreement with his brother’s words.

“Say no more my brother,” he told Cal, “I’ve already placed a help wanted ad in The Daily Post. I promised all helpers a decent wage plus room and board.”

Cal grinned.

“Good work,” he praised his brother, adding as he graced Stephen with a slight slap on the back, “And since I’m going to be busy in town just about every day this week, I’ll leave it to you to pick two or three of the very best ranch hands ridin’ the range.”

The smile died on Stephen’s lips as he considered these words.

“Well now there are just a few problems with that idea, dear brother,” he told Cal, adding with a hefty sigh, “I only advertised for one helper around this place, and I didn’t exactly request the services of a ranch hand. And, all things considered, I do believe it best that you interview our prospects yourself. Personally.”

Cal froze.

“I can’t say that I quite like the way you just said the word personally,” he admitted, adding as he folded his arms strong and firm before him, “And if you didn’t advertise for a ranch hand, what specific job title do you want to fill?”

Stephen shrugged.

“Well, if you really want to know the nitty gritty of things,” he mumbled, shuffling his feet beneath him. “I advertised in particular for a mail order bride.”

He cringed as his chagrined brother met these words with an unearthly, near inhuman growl; ducking just in time to avoid Cal’s lethal left hook.

“A Mail. Order. Bride?” he repeated, spitting and grinding out these last words as though they were poisonous. “What kind of madness has seeped into that already dense noggin of yers? How dare you place one of those tasteless ads in my name?” he paused here, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “What are folks in this area going to think when they find out that the deputy sheriff of this here town is seeking out a…a….”

“A mail order bride,” Stephen supplied, remaining clear of his brother’s striking range as he added, “Remember just a few minutes ago, brother when you were thanking me profusely for pulling you through a rough time? Could we maybe go back to that point, before you decide to use me as target practice for your shiny new six-shooter?”

Cal shook his head.

“Well why is it that you think this time has been so very rough for me?” he countered, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “Elsa was my life, my whole world. I’ll never find a woman as sweet, as beautiful, as hardworking, as supportive, as smart,” he paused here, adding as he raised his sculpted chin to prideful effect, “My wife was nothing short of the perfect woman. And once you have experienced perfection, you don’t lower yourself to connectin’ up with some woman who would sell herself off as a mail order bride.”

With these words he whipped off his wide brimmed ivory hat of silver belly felt, tossing it reckless to the ground beneath him.

“Hell Stephen, no man who respects a woman would buy her into servitude,” he insisted, adding as he seared his brother with a fierce sideways glance, “What kind of a human being do you think I am?”

Stephen sighed.

“I’m not talkin’ about buyin’ slaves Brother—that’s against the law, just as it should be,” he asserted with a sharp nod, “I’m talkin’ about getting the help that you need to run this place—along with some much needed female company. Mail order brides are mature and very willing women looking for adventure.” He paused here, adding as he made a broad gesture down the length of his brother’s tall, muscled form, “And seeing as to how you’ve always been popular with the ladies, I think that just about any lady would grab the opportunity to get adventurous with you.”

*****

All things considered, Abigail Tompkins figured that she’d prefer any fate to that of a mail order bride.

A teacher. A nurse. A ranch hand. A stable girl—even the type that hacks out the stalls on hot summer days. A dancing girl at any given saloon. A nun at any given convent.

“OK then, I’m veerin’ dangerously close to the ridiculous with those last two options,” she sighed, adding as she cast a self-conscious look down the length of her fully made form, “Nobody is going to put these hips on a saloon stage—especially given the fact that their bearer would be tempted to deliver her high kicks straight to the face of the first man who leered at her or made an inappropriate comment. And she’d give the same treatment to any given Mother Superior, who tried to tell her what to do—or, in that particular environment, what not to do.”

So why had she planted herself square at the center of a rickety old stagecoach, riding with unseemly speed to meet a man in search of a mail order bride? And why, for that matter, had she dressed for this rather miserable occasion in a dag gum calico dress; a fancy and highly impractical effort colored cranberry red and boasting an elegant lace lined collar and a prim empire waist?

“Oh, and let us not forget the puffed sleeves,” she growled aloud, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Real women do not wear puffed sleeves.”

Indeed, there existed only one living person in Abigail’s life who could inspire such complete and total tomfoolery.

“What mad and utterly ridiculous things I won’t do for my Ma,” she mused, remembering once again the fateful conversation that had delivered her straight into this most unfortunate situation.

In the wake of her father’s death, she and her mother had tried valiantly to do the same amount of work once performed by five people. Yet in the absence of her father and sisters, they quickly found themselves overwhelmed by both work and bills.

By becoming a mail order bride, her mother reasoned, Abigail could still live her dream of working the land; also potentially bringing home the man and the money needed to revive their own ranch.

“So here I am,” she shook her head as her rented ride made a long last turn through the gates of Elsa’s Rose; the spacious ranch where she’d agreed to meet her mysterious future husband. “One question though: Who in the blazes is Elsa, and why in the blazes does she not mind me marryin’ her man?”

Her troubled meditation was disrupted by a vision that soothed her senses; an image perhaps more beautiful than any she’d ever seen.

Before she grew endless fertile rows of ebullient golden hued roses; sun kissed florals that both adorned and glorified their nature made surroundings.

At the center of this horticultural haven stood the most radiant vision of all: a tall, ebony-haired wonder who himself seemed the product of his ethereal surroundings.

The man’s eyes sparkled as wide and azure as the Texas day that oversaw his labors; his skin glowing as bronze as the sun itself as he stood shirtless in the midst of the florals who seemed to command his attentions.

Quickly paying and dismissing the stagecoach driver who’d delivered her into this paradise, she soon found herself standing squarely at the center of this most intriguing scene; getting a better look at the florals that dotted the landscape and the man who apparently tended them.

Her gaze basked in admiration at the singular vision of the Texas yellow rose; a floral wonder that boasted large lush blossoms, velvety petals, and a sublime golden hue.

In exchange for shucking more corn than seemed humanly possible, Abigail had been allowed to tend a small garden of yellow roses at a far corner of her parents’ property.

“Yet it seems that this gent has a whole ranch just brimmin’ with roses,” she thought in silence, adding with arched eyebrows, “I guess that would explain the latter half of its mysterious moniker. I still don’t know who in the blazes Elsa might be—and do I even want to know?”

“So do ya favor yellow roses, Miss?”

Abigail jumped as her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a deep sonorous voice; a most appealing tone that raised her gaze to behold the face of an angel.

Now she stared straight into the azure blue gems that she’d admired from the stagecoach; finding that they gleamed brightly from a peerless face that also boasted carved cheekbones, full moist lips, and a perfect cleft chin.

Then she allowed her curious eyes to stray the length of his tall, muscular form; a body defined by the presence of hard toned pectorals and abdominals, and long trim legs that today came encased in tight, sculpting blue jeans.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, adding as she squared her substantial shoulders and stood up straight in the field, “That is to say, I find these flowers incredibly beautiful. And, just so you know, I’m Abigail Tompkins. I’m the lady who sent a letter in answer to your advertisement for a mail order bride.”

The man nodded.

“Pleased to meet ya, Ma’am. I’m Cal Hopkins, owner, and proprietor of Elsa’s Rose, which as you may have heard is the largest farming garden in this stretch of Texas. And I’m mighty glad to hear that you favor these flowers,” he told her, adding in a matter of fact tone, “As those are the only roses you’re likely to be receivin’ during your time at this ranch.” He paused here, adding with an empathetic smile, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, Miss, but I am not interested in cultivating a romantic relationship with my thusly called mail order bride. I am interested only in cultivating my crops, and with the help of someone who knows the lay of the land.”

Abigail thought a moment, then pursed her lips.

“Did you come to that conclusion when you placed your advertisement for a mail order bride?” she queried, adding as she inclined her head sharp in his direction, “Or at the moment that you saw me step out of the stagecoach?”

She froze as the man before her whipped his ivory cowboy hat clear off his head, holding it reverent over his heart as he said, “Oh no Ma’am, please don’t take offense at what I said.” He paused here, adding as he returned his hat to its place on his head and let loose with a frustrated sigh, “Truth be told I didn’t even place that blasted ad. My brother placed it, with the intention of finding me a new bride—totally ignoring the fact that all I need is an able assistant here on the ranch. I already had my wife, the love of my life, and was on the verge of fatherin’ the child that completed our family. Then, in a heartbeat, they were both gone.”

With these words, he took the garden hoe clutched in his sturdy grasp and threw it recklessly to the ground beneath him.

“For all my brother’s annoyin’ meddlin’, I have assured him that I am in no need of a replacement bride,” he insisted, planting his hands firm on his hips as he added, “I want a professional arrangement here, nothing more.”

His eyes flew wide as his guest met these words with a loud, joyful whoop; one that came accompanied by a spirited Texas two-step that would look right at home at a barn dance.

“Well Ma’am, I’m most pleased that you’re taking this news so well,” he muttered, adding as he pinned her with a sideways glance, “Did you come to that conclusion when you answered my advertisement for a mail order bride? Or at the moment that you saw me here working in the fields?”

Coming to an abrupt halt as her rawhide boots skidded in the dirt below her, Abigail let loose with a hearty chortle as she considered this question.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous Gent,” she admonished her host, adding as she pointed a most accusing finger straight in his direction, “You likely qualify as the most ridiculously handsome gent I’ve ever seen. I reckon that your degree of preposterous male beauty probably should be illegal, in point of fact. And most any woman would be more than eager to hogtie you into submission and drag you headfirst before the nearest justice of the peace.”

Blinking with surprise as he considered these words, Cal let loose with a robust chuckle as he shifted his boots in the grass beneath him.

“Well you sure do have a way with words Miss,” he praised her finally, adding in a reflective tone, “especially to the ears of a man who hasn’t laughed in a mighty long time.”

Abigail nodded.

“Oh, I hear ya. Back at home on the Diamond T Ranch, my folks and I used to laugh the day away. Then when Pa passed, it was all I could do to muster a smile,” she released these words on a tired sigh, adding as she graced her host with a warm, knowing smile, “I have the distinct feeling, Gent, that you and I are two of a kind. One day we’re just moseying through the process of working our own land and living our dreams. Then that pesky ol’ thing called life happened along and threw some big ol’ cow pies in our path.”

Guffawing outright in response to her words, Cal stepped forward to offer the lady his hand.

“At this point Ma’am, I don’t give a lick if you lack one bit of experience in working the land,” he told her, adding as he inclined his head in her direction, “You are hired.”

*****

Two weeks after taking on an additional hired hand at his ranch, Cal Hopkins was pleased to see that she did indeed know how to work the land. This lady Abigail, in fact, proved herself an expert on all things horticultural, standing tall and proud in rows of roses and making them grow and bloom more beautifully than ever; also tending his more conventional crops of corn and cotton, increasing the productivity of his farm while his second career as a law enforcement officer continued to thrive.

Although not a conventional beauty like his Elsa, he loved the way that her bright blue eyes came alight whenever she inspected a radiant rose; and the lovely smile that she displayed whenever she favored him with one of her hilarious jokes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in my life,” he mused at one point, looking on with keen amusement as she charmed him with an impression of an untalented chorus girl who gets her high kicking feet caught up in her voluminous petticoats after sipping on what was perhaps one too many tempered sarsaparillas. “Not to mention think—this gal is probably the smartest I’ve met.”

When Cal came home at night, he always looked forward to the home cooked meals that Abigail prepared for him; feasts that featured corn and potatoes grown on his own ranch, along with juicy steaks and buttermilk biscuits coated with layers of fresh churned butter.

After dinner, the pair reclined in the comfy if rustic confines of his sitting room at the ranch house; a room lined with wooden walls and planked floors and filled with samplings of hand carved furnishings. And even as he played chess and poker with his newfound best friend, he saw reminders of the hostess who once reigned as the queen of his modest but well-kept homestead.

A rich sampling of Cal’s home carved furnishings came covered with vibrant rainbow patterned quilts created by Elsa’s delicate hand; and just over his game table stood an ebullient oil painting that portrayed the lady herself—her wholesome blonde beauty shining forth from the canvas as she held one of her signature yellow roses.

“She sure was a beauty,” Abigail noted one night, laying aside a final hand of poker as she looked her handsome host straight in the eyes, “And you loved her very much, didn’t you?”

Cal nodded.

“More than anything,” he acknowledged, adding in a soft, reverent voice, “My wife was an angel on Earth, and our time together—well it was just magical.” He paused here, adding as he arched his feathered eyebrows in Abigail’s direction, “What about you, Miss Abigail? Have you ever been in love?”

Abigail snorted.

“Love,” she scoffed, adding as she pursed her pink lips in a sure sign of cynicism, “True love is what I shared with my folks. It was pure, sweet, unconditional. Romantic love is for people who bear a strikin’ resemblance to your wife, God rest her soul, and yerself—and for that matter to my two younger sisters, both of whom were married off to a pair of handsome twin ranchers who whisked them off to Oklahoma. Now, to their credit, they’ve finally come back home to help Ma for the time that I’m away—at least, until I can send home enough money for her to cover my father’s debts and then hopefully hire some ranch hands.”

Cal nodded.

“So you’ve never been courtin’?” he asked her, tone curious and thoughtful.

Abigail shook her head.

“Never,” she declared, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Oh rest assured; as a teen-ager I occasionally poured my big body into a calico dress and went to stand motionless and alone at some barn dance, waiting in vain for some gent to ask me to dance. I almost went so far as to offer my services as a human coat rack for the other guests; heck, I might as well be of some use while I’m standin’ there alone in a corner, grinnin’ like a fool.”

Cal laughed, but only briefly.

“Well it’s too bad that those gents at the barn dance never stopped to talk to you,” he told her, adding as he reached across the table and covered her hand with his, “Then they would have realized what a smart, funny gal you are. And at the risk of sounding disrespectful, Ma’am, you do have the prettiest blue eyes I ever have seen.”

He grinned as Abigail ducked her head, her ivory-skinned cheeks flushing somewhat as she considered these words of unexpected praise.

“Why thank you, Cal,” she acknowledged the praise, adding as she cast those eyes upward in his direction, “I would return the compliment, but it’s just a mite hard to know where to start with you.” She paused here, adding as her gaze took a brief but admiring note of his sheer masculine perfection, “You have the prettiest—well—everything.”

She trembled as Cal met these words with a soft sonorous chuckle; entwining her fingers in his as he asked, “Would you like to know, Miss Abigail, just what it’s like to kiss a cowboy?”

*****

Abigail sat still and straight at the head of the poker table; struggling to tear her gaze from the beauty and charm of her handsome ethereal host.

Every day since her arrival at Elsa’s Rose, Abigail had found herself strongly and inexorably drawn to the man who kept and tended this beautiful ranch.

Aside from being the rare man who liked and appreciated a hardworking woman—one who spent far more time in the fields than she did in the kitchen, and was durn proud of it thank ya very much—and who always treated her with the upmost kindness and respect, Cal never failed to dazzle her with his own special brand of masculine good looks.

If it was indeed possible for a man to glow, then Cal Hopkins pulled the trick off to splendorous effect; whether working in the fields in a pair of blue jeans and his trusty felt hat, or dressed for his other work in a black brushed cotton sack coat, a gray wool tweed vest and crisp white shirt underneath and tight black canvas trousers—along with appealing accents that included slick black gloves, a shiny silver star adorning his lapel, and a sleek ebony gun belt and holster that carried his signature sheriff’s six shooters.

And now this gorgeous prince of a man wanted to kiss her, and God help her, she could not resist him.

“Kiss me,” she released on a whisper, accepting his soft, intimate offer as she turned her face upward.

She shut her eyes tight as Cal leaned forward to touch her lips with his; his full moist mouth stroking hers in a gentle but quite passionate advance.

Cal swallowed her startled breath as he angled his head over hers; intensifying their kiss as he soon plied her lips with the sweetest kisses.

Even as his soft lips lulled her senses and she relaxed to pass into a dreamy otherworld quite foreign to her practical mind, her eyes opened wide to once again grace her vision with the whole of his masculine beauty.

This move proved a serious mistake, as her wandering gaze soon came to rest on the portrait mounted just above their table.

Soon her eyes collided with those of the radiant Elsa Hopkins, and the usually iron-willed Abigail found herself withering like a flower in the scope of soft almond eyes; eyes that seemed kind if wary and all knowing.

“I’m sorry. We have to cease this nonsense. This is just wrong,” she mumbled suddenly, breaking their kiss as she sprang from the table and grasped her plain denim skirts in two resolute hands; headed for the small corner bedroom that served as her sole refuge in a home that seemed suddenly too familiar—and a man that, in all his infernal beauty, seemed suddenly too tempting to resist.

“Abigail!” Cal bellowed, jumping to his feet as he raced across the room. “Did I do something to offend you?”

Abigail shook her head.

“We were both doin’ wrong,” she insisted, adding as she turned with a flourish to face her tempter in full, “We were kissin’ like lovers in your wife’s house—tarnishin’ Elsa’s rose!”

These words echoed strong in Cal’s mind the next morning; as he rode hard through the downtown area where he presided as deputy sheriff.

As Cal straddled the back of Midnight Lightning, the sleek ebony stallion that came as part and parcel of his job, he knew full well that he looked the part of the powerful, authoritative deputy sheriff; sitting tall and proud in the saddle as he shifted his regal head to scan the scope of the downtown area—a place punctuated by an endless line of general stores, mills, seamstress shops, and saloons.

“The saloons tend to bring us more trouble than all of the other businesses combined,” he mused, adding with a slight smile, “Now we did face a bit of a ruckus at the general store last week when an overzealous 12-year-old tried in vain to snatch a bottle of sarsaparilla. And at the seamstress shop the week before last, we encountered the unfortunate case of two surly ladies at war over the same wedding dress. We had to pry the inordinately sharp knitting needles from their clutches, just to avoid what surely would have amounted to a woodshed of bloodshed.”

Although he chuckled lightly at his own, admittedly weak attempt at humor, Cal knew in his heart that his strong, dignified presence lent a certain air of security to the area he served as deputy sheriff.

“Funny,” he scoffed now, dipping his head low beneath the brim of his trusty white hat, “Considerin’ the fact that I feel like the foulest, most despicable scoundrel in town.”

After presenting himself as a perfect gentleman to his mail order bride, a woman who he’d come to like, trust and befriend, Cal apparently had violated her trust and thrown up a tall emotional barrier between them; stealing a kiss that had caused her to flee from him, thus ruining what had been a perfect evening of sweet memories and kind conversation.

“I wanted only to please her, to perhaps change a mind that seems to be hard set against the concepts of dating and courtship,” he told himself, heaving a sigh as he added, “And although she sure seemed to be welcoming of and enjoying the gesture, it seems like all of a sudden she changed her mind—and her heart. She bolted away from me like I had the plague—racing into her room and locking the door behind her.”

Although Cal had stood outside her door for nearly an hour, begging her to at least give him a chance to apologize for and explain his actions, a steadfast Abigail had refused to take leave of her own private refuge; finally insisting that he let her alone and go to his own bedroom.

Finally, the cowboy relented and retired to the modest, wood planked room that formed his own private haven at Elsa’s Rose; a room occupied only by a camp bed and an unpainted bureau, and adorned only with yet another portrait of his beautiful late wife.

Here he could escape the cold condemnation of his mail order bride. He could not, however, avoid the all knowing almond gaze that followed him throughout the room; seeming to condemn him even as her smile remained kind and gentle.

“Are you condemning me for betraying your memory with another woman, and in your own house?” he asked her at one point, tossing and turning in his plain cotton sheets in the midst of a torturous sleepless night. “Or for clinging to your memory, refusin’ in the process to go on with my own life?”

“Or maybe she just has a mind that you’ve gone half batty, riding around town and having a deep conversation with no one but yourself.”

Cal jumped in the saddle as a masculine voice that he recognized all too well resounded from his immediate left; lifting his eyes to meet the sardonic gaze of his brother, Stephen Hopkins.

Himself sitting astride Dallas, his prized ebony charger, the young rancher inclined his head in a show of apparent curiosity.

“Are you OK there, Pardner?” he asked Cal, his usually casual tone lined with genuine concern.

He jumped in his saddle as his brother met his concern with a hard, piercing glare.

“No actually I am not OK, dear brother,” Cal countered, adding with a cutting glare aimed straight in his kinsman’s direction, “and that situation is entirely your fault.”

Stephen sighed.

“Ut oh,” he released on a hard breath, adding as he shifted his feet in his stirrups, “You don’t like your mail order bride, do you? And so now you blame me for bringing her into your life in the first place.”

Cal shook his head.

“As seems to be usual as of late, you, my brother, are dead wrong,” he scoffed, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “I like Abigail far more than I ever thought I would. I’m beginning to wonder how I ever ran the ranch without her.” He paused here, adding as he spoke more to himself than to a watching Stephen, “I’m also ponderin’ if I want to live my life without her. I think I might be fallin’ for her—and it’s all your fault! Blast you, your varmint!”

Stephen pursed his full lips, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to consider this nonsensical assertion.

“Well, all things considered,” he began, tone thoughtful and deliberate, “Isn’t it a good thing to fall in love with your bride?”

Cal sighed.

“That’s the whole problem, Stephen. She’s not my bride,” he informed him, adding in a sad tone, “And at the way that things are goin’, she never will be my wife.”

Stephen gasped.

“So you mean to tell me that you, the dang gum deputy sheriff of this here town, is livin’ in sin with a woman?” he asked, tone harsh and confrontational. “Well, no wonder ya can’t make peace with yourself. What would Ma and Pa say? What would your boss, the sheriff of this town, have to say? I did not place that ad so you could take a mistress, Cal….”

Cal had heard enough.