Mail Order Bride – Charlotte's Summer: Clean Sweet Western Cowboy Romance (Seasons Mail Order Brides Book 1) (4 page)

“
I
t arrived
, Charlotte. It’s here, it’s here … read it quickly.” Mrs. Fredrick’s face looked set to burst it was so full of color. She fanned the envelope in front of her, making the tall peacock feather in her sun-hat flail about from one side of her head to the other. “I’m dying to know what he thinks, the anticipation is just about killing me.”

Charlotte’s eyes shot up toward her hairline and she couldn’t stop the ridiculous giggle that bubbled up from inside her. She rushed over and snatched the letter from Mrs. Fredrick’s gloved hand and proceeded to rip it open.

Every day for the last two weeks she’d followed Beth into the post office, desperate for a reply from Thomas, but she would always leave again deflated once Bert had informed them there was no mail other than that for Saint Anne’s.

Charlotte had almost changed her mind a few times too. Doubt had crept in and a weird little voice in the back of her head kept warning her of the dangers, or worse still, the possibility that Thomas didn’t want to marry her after all. Being left all alone again was her one true fear. She’d been abandoned once before – not that it was either of her parent’s fault, of course – but she never wanted to feel pain like that again. Loneliness was like a disease that ate away at the soul and Charlotte dreaded its return with everything inside her.

But as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk, her hands trembling with excitement, the voices disappeared and she was filled instead with so much emotion she could barely stand straight without swaying a little on her feet. The response from the man who might save her from a destiny worse than death.

Her eyes darted back and forth across the page, absorbing every syllable like it was the very last words she’d ever read. After a few long minutes, she looked up at the two expectant faces standing before her.

“Tell us everything,” Beth said, eyes wide like saucers.

When all Charlotte could do was smile and hold her breath inside her body so hard that she thought she might just pass out with the giddy feeling it caused, Beth grabbed the page from between her fingers and began to read the letter out loud, right there on the street.

Beth and Mrs. Fredrick jumped about on the spot, clinging to each other’s arms as they laughed and danced and squealed with joy.

But something occurred to Charlotte, and she sighed. Saturday was just a few days away and suddenly the thought of leaving Beth – and Mistress Belle for that matter – behind in Seattle was something she wasn’t prepared for just yet. The very idea narrowed her airways and her chest grew heavy with sadness. She wished there was some way she might have them accompany her, but deep down in her heart she knew that it just wasn’t possible. Some small comfort came from knowing they would at least have each other to turn to in times of need.

So she steadied her shoulders and prepared herself for the unknown. It surely wasn’t that difficult. All she had to do was step off the platform and board the train, after that she would finally be free of Mr. Graynger and those dark, prying eyes that had made her life a misery for so long now that she remembered it no other way.

Mrs. Fredrick took the letter from Beth, deducted her fee from between the folded sheets and then handed it back to Charlotte. She waved the girls off with a sense of benevolence. “Godspeed, my dear. Don’t be delayed to the train or I’ll be as busy as a bee in a tar bucket trying to find you a suitable replacement. Thomas sounds like a wonderful man. Don’t leave him waiting.”

“She won’t be late,” promised Beth.

“No Ma’am, I most definitely will not. I have too much riding on this.” Charlotte clasped her hands together at her chest and smiled back. “Thank you. Thank you so very much. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

M
istress Belle was thrilled
with the news of Charlotte’s impending marriage to Thomas. She couldn’t be happier for her. Naturally enough, playing her cards close to her chest, as she so often did, Mistress Belle didn’t jump about like the other ladies, she simply smiled and nodded and listened to Charlotte read out the letter for a second time, all the while thinking back on that fateful night so many years ago when Charlotte had arrived.

Her only wish was that she could be there to witness the marriage herself. Charlotte would make the most beautiful bride and it pained her so to know she would never get to see her dressed so elaborately, with flowers and curls and a long, flowing veil and all the finery a young lady of Charlotte’s good nature should enjoy.

Once she’d calmed herself and got to thinking straight again, Mistress Belle sat the two girls down and the three of them set in place an escape route that even the most hardened of criminals couldn’t lay claim to. Explicit directions were given on how to get to the west side of the orphanage – the side that faced out into the cobbled laneway, separating Mr. Graynger’s private residence and the administration building. It was risky business, but it was the only way out. Every other door was locked tight after sundown and Mr. Graynger double-checked them all himself before he turned in each evening for a long stretch with his favorite pipe.

Charlotte committed the entire thing to memory.

Down two flights of stairs.

A left at the basement door.

A right at the cellar.

Then all the way to the end of the corridor.

She was prepared for it to be dark, completely dark, and musty and wet and haunted by shadows she’d never see coming, but Mistress Belle explained exactly where the latch was and how many turns of the key she’d need to find her freedom.

And freedom, at this late stage, was her only means of survival.

Saturday morning soon arrived. Charlotte was now eighteen years old. While other girls were out celebrating their birthdays with family and friends, Charlotte was running away from hers. As much as she was ready to spread her wings and fly, she knew she would miss the little nest that had become her home and the people that had become her surrogate family.

A quiet moment was shared when Charlotte stretched across Beth’s bed and she kissed her dearest friend on the cheek, promising to write as soon as she could. The two girls held each other close, tears filling both their eyes.

Once her luggage was retrieved from under the bed, Charlotte slipped quietly from the room and didn’t look back, not even once. Hesitation would be her demise and she didn’t have it in her to back out now. Beth’s muffled sobs were the very last thing she heard as she disappeared down the empty corridor.

Just as Mistress Belle had promised, the walkways were dark and eerie, but she navigated the stairs as carefully as she could and eventually found herself standing in front of the heavy, timber door that separated her past from her future. On the fourth spin of the key, the latch finally turned and Charlotte exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She stepped cautiously through the door, vigilant not to snap a twig or set off a dog barking, and then she closed the door over again behind her.

Glancing quickly in both directions, Charlotte made it all the way to the end of the laneway without missing a beat. Once she found the safety of the main road, she began to run. As fast as she could. Toward the train station. Her heart was pounding. Her breath was heavy in her chest and her lungs burnt with each stride. Every nerve in her entire body had suddenly come alive.

Charlotte dashed through the city streets, fear and desperation the two forces that drove her forward. With every step she could taste freedom just that little bit sweeter coming toward her, and as the humid air clung to her clothes, she couldn’t help but wonder what summer in Montana might be like. It was the first time she’d let herself imagine it fully. She hoped that she’d enjoy country living, the mountains and the rivers and the wide open spaces.

The platform suddenly appeared like a mirage off in the distance and Charlotte practically collapsed when her feet hit the worn cement. She was overcome with relief. She’d made it there without notice and until the train pulled in, she would do whatever it took not to draw attention to herself.

Covering her face with her hands, she silently prayed that the good Lord would guide her safely across the land and into the arms of the complete stranger who would soon become her husband. It was a peculiar feeling and Charlotte couldn’t help the gnawing thought that Thomas might just be too good to be true. What would she do if he was? What if he turned out to be even worse than Mr. Graynger? If only she had a sign from above that he was the right man for her.

Something? Anything?

A loud whistle suddenly filled the space and Charlotte started at the sound. She watched the train hiss down the tracks and then drag to a halt right in front of her. The crowd around her began to build, loading the cargo carriage with more luggage than Charlotte had seen in her entire lifetime. She stepped back when a man in a navy-blue uniform asked, “Any bags you need checking in, Miss?”

“No, Sir.”

“Traveling light?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The rail worker was a kindly man and spoke with a sympathetic tone. “Well, I guess it’s my lucky day. My lumbago’s been playing up somethin’ terrible lately.” He put the whistle back in his mouth and blew on the thing twice before calling louder than she thought any man capable of, “
Boarding now for Helena.
”

I
t was
late Wednesday afternoon when the train finally shuddered to a stop at the station clearly signed
Helena, Montana.

It’d been slow going for the most part and felt to Charlotte like she’d been traveling for months instead of just days. She could only imagine how ghastly she looked. Sleep had been almost impossible as the rattling carriages charged head-first through the night and then sidled beside the Clark Fork River for miles and miles once morning broke. The last thing she felt like doing right now, feeling dirty and smelly and utterly exhausted, was meeting Thomas Ackerman for the very first time. Her dress was wrinkled, her fingers were swollen and her hair had come loose from its braid. This was definitely not the first impression she wanted to make.

Stepping out onto the platform, feeling a bit like a lamb to the slaughter, Charlotte searched through the passengers for any sign of a man who might fit the bill.
A sign?
That word again. Charlotte started to worry she would never get confirmation that she’d made the right decision.

Thomas Ackerman stood just behind the busy baggage car at the very rear of the train. Not so much that he appeared to be hiding from Miss Bates, but enough that he could catch a glimpse of her before she walked right off the station and down into the main street to seek him out. He’d read her letter so many times now that her features were embedded in his brain and he felt like he knew every detail about her. But the truth of the matter was, he didn’t know her at all, and that made him extremely nervous.

“Thomas Ackerman?”

Charlotte’s soft voice rang through the air like church bells and Thomas was knocked clean from his thoughts. He looked up suddenly. He hadn’t even noticed her approach, but the sound of his name falling from her pretty lips was suddenly like an angel singing and he wavered a little. As Charlotte’s big blue eyes met his for the very first time, he was forced to swallow back the huge lump that’d formed in his throat and when Charlotte smiled at him, well something strange happened inside his chest.

“I’m Charlotte Bates. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Thomas nodded politely, feeling foolish for his lack of voice. Charlotte, too, seemed uneasy, but at least she’d had the courage to approach him and for that, Thomas was extremely grateful. He gingerly reached for her hand. His calloused fingers covered Charlotte’s tiny palm almost completely and it was then and there that he decided – despite the fact he’d never held a woman’s hand before, not proper-like at least, not more than offering peace in church – that he enjoyed the feel of her warm skin pressed against his.

“It’s mighty fine to meet you too, Miss Bates … uh, I … I mean, Charlotte.”

My Charlotte
he thought to himself, enjoying the idea of it more than he probably should. So he shook the thought away again just as quickly as it had arrived, and wiped any sign of delight from his expression. He needed her to know right from the start how this marriage would work. It would serve them both a purpose and that was all. He wasn’t looking to fall in love; never a truer statement had been spoken in fact. “I suppose we should be on a first name basis now we’s getting married and all. Call me Thomas. Do you have luggage?”

He was truly glad they were standing right near the baggage claim or else he’d have looked right stupid for fumbling about so far from the ticket booth where he’d promised to meet her. This way he figured Charlotte might consider him a forward thinker and someone she could depend upon. Both good qualities in a husband, or so he’d been told.

Charlotte shook her head and held up her small reticule. “This here is all the belongings I own in the world, Thomas. I’ve lived in an orphanage for the last ten years. I hope that doesn’t scare you off? I might be coming into this marriage with very few material possessions, but I promise I will try my very best to make you happy.”

Thomas gaped.

He knew it rude to stare in such an obvious way, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure if it was what she’d said, or simply the way she’d said it, but his lips took to trembling in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t entirely know what to make of it.

Did he feel sorry for her?

What he did know for sure was that he’d never had the privilege of seeing anything quite so beautiful as Miss Charlotte Bates before, not even the silvery moon that’d been sitting up so proud in the sky of late. No. Nothing could compare to her splendor.

Thomas shook his head to clear his mind. He reckoned if he looked too long at Charlotte’s fine features, his heart would do that silly fluttering thing again, and that’s the last thing he wanted. So he looked away before he said or did something he might later regret.

Charlotte blinked and nibbled on her lip while she waited for Thomas. He seemed to have suddenly lost his voice and dread settled inside her with the notion that he might be having reservations now that he’d laid eyes on her. She sincerely hoped he didn’t. In the time it had taken to walk the length of the platform, she knew for absolute certain now that her decision to leave Seattle was the right one. Sign or no sign.

Thomas Ackerman was by far the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He stood just over six feet tall, with hair the color of cornbread and skin as tanned as any she’d ever noticed before. His shirt was fresh and clean and tucked neatly into his trousers and she thought to herself that although his clothes didn’t look expensive, they weren’t cheap either and she liked the way they pulled and strained against his strong muscles.

Charlotte let out a small sigh of relief when he finally spoke.

“We should make a start on the rest of our trip. We’ve got a few hours’ ride ahead of us and I’d like to make it back before dusk. I’ll need to stop a few times and water the horses, so that’ll slow us down some.”

“Is it always this hot?” asked Charlotte, as they made their way from the station. She cooled herself with that tiny hand of hers that Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about. Putting it back inside his own was something he’d really like to try again, sooner rather than later.

“Yes Ma’am, it’s always hot here in Montana … well, with the exception of when it’s cold o’ course. Then it’s freezing cold … and not so hot at all. But that’d be ’cause of the winter, I guess … and, uh, I…”

Thomas decided it best then to just shut his mouth before he made a total fool of himself. He wasn’t renowned for his conversational skills at the best of times, so how he thought he’d ever string two sentences together while the most stunning girl in the entire world was standing just three feet in front of him, he couldn’t quite fathom. He helped Charlotte up into the buck wagon and then moved quickly behind the cart. He yanked the hat straight off his head and slapped it hard against his leg.
What kind of answer was that?
He wanted to kick himself for stammering.
Hot? Cold?
Charlotte must surely think him a simpleton. And the idea of that made him even more jittery.

As he climbed up beside her, Thomas couldn’t help but wonder how Charlotte hadn’t been snapped up already by a wealthy businessman back in Seattle. She was enchanting. She was captivating. She was something most men could only dream of and he couldn’t fathom how he’d ever got so lucky. Good fortune didn’t generally come his way and so it played on his mind some as he settled back against the warm timber and adjusted the reins between his fingertips.

He could only hope that what little he had to offer her back on the ranch would be enough to keep Charlotte there until they were married on Sunday. He wanted to impress her, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d never before cared what anyone else thought of him. He was hard-working and honest and he stayed out of people’s business. Three things he prided himself on more than any other characteristic.

Charlotte watched as Thomas offered her an awkward smile, if that’s what you could even call it. It was only fleeting, such a minuscule quirk of the lips that Charlotte might have missed it altogether if she hadn’t been looking so hard at the man positioned beside her.

With a swift flick of his thick forearms, Thomas set the horses on their way and they cleared the township of Helena in no time at all. Before too long they were headed deep into the countryside. Montana really was very pretty and Charlotte found herself enjoying the warm, summer air floating over her skin in a way that she never had back in Seattle. There was a quality to it, fresh and alive. She had never seen paddocks so vast or mountains as high before in all her life. She gazed at them off in the distance, feeling completely at peace here.

Surprisingly, she also found herself at ease with Thomas. He wasn’t big on the small-talk, and when he did give it a try he seemed to do a botch job of it, but he had a way about him that made her feel safe. He didn’t smile much either, but there was a sparkle hidden deep in his eyes that made her think he certainly knew how, like he’d done it plenty of times before, but was now keeping it under lock and key. Charlotte figured he didn’t hand his smiles out freely. Perhaps he was just selective of who he offered them to.

“Do you have family close by?” asked Charlotte, breaking the silence.

Thomas shook his head, though he didn’t dare glance at her. He had decided a few miles back that it was safer to just keep his eyes trained on the road. He reckoned a man could surely get lost in those eyes of hers. For a fella who had never seen the ocean before, he felt if he looked into the bottomless blue for too long, he would want to dive straight in without a second thought and start splashing about like a crazy person, never to return. “No, no family. I was raised by my grandparents after my folks passed away. I was just a boy. My Poppa left me his farm when he departed this world five years ago, I inherited it outright. I’ve been running the property all on my own since I was eighteen years old.”

Charlotte was impressed. “What kind of crops do you grow?”

“Not crops, Miss Charlotte. I run a thousand head of cattle. I’ve got a small vegetable patch beside the main house that keeps me fed most days, but livestock’s more my thing. There’s a few chickens too, mostly for the eggs, and a couple of ducks as well. Not to mention my Rosy.”

“Rosy?”

Thomas nodded as they continued down the bumpy road. “You’ll see.” He worried at first that Charlotte might think him a tad loco or something, but when he finally worked up the courage to look across at her, he found that she was smiling right on back at him.

“That’s quite the accomplishment, Thomas. I mean to say, running a property and all. I’m sure your grandparents would be very proud of you. It’s a testament to your strength.”

Thomas fidgeted in his seat. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

Charlotte blushed as she watched Thomas from the corner of her eye. She’d never spent so much time alone with a man before, especially one she barely knew, and certainly not one as attractive as Thomas.

She studied his profile once she was certain he wasn’t about to look at her again. For some reason Charlotte thought he was doing it on purpose, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. She was enjoying the view just fine. His nose was a fraction crooked and his eyebrows were thick, but he had a sturdy jaw and the longest set of lashes she’d ever seen on a man. His silhouette was strong and masculine against the turning twilight sky.

She felt his leg brush her thigh with the rocking and the swaying of the cart. A strange sensation came with it, one she wasn’t going to encourage, but one she wasn’t entirely opposed to either. So she just sat there and enjoyed the feeling for what it was.

“What about you Charlotte?” Thomas finally asked. “I’d be happy to continue into town hearing whatever it is you’d care to say about yourself. As you can probably tell, I’m more of a listener than a talker anyways.”

“I got that impression,” Charlotte giggled into her hand. “But if it suits you better we can just ride in silence for a while. I don’t mind. Whatever makes you happy.”

Thomas swiveled in his seat then and looked at her square on. He’d never met anyone like Charlotte before, so considerate of another person’s feelings. He pondered her suggestion for a while, thinking it sounded like a mighty fine plan, but just as he was about to tell her so, his tongue went and did something all on its own without first consulting the rest of him. “No, I like the sound of your voice, please keep talking.”

“Alright, we’ll talk until we arrive home. I’ll tell you everything there is to know.”

Thomas nodded again. He wasn’t sure what he enjoyed more – the fact that Charlotte’s cheeks were the cutest shade of pink … or that she’d just referred to Conrad as their
home.