Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (37 page)

“I hope your pa had sense enough to send her a round-trip ticket,” Gabe muttered as he bent to lift the collar on four-year-old Eliza’s coat. Even as he said it, he knew the return ticket wasn’t likely to have been purchased. His brother, Adam Stone, never believed his plans could fail—not even when he was the one causing them to do so.

Eliza didn’t say anything, but her eyes grew big in a face still round with pink baby sweetness.

Daniel, her scowling seven-year-old brother, wasn’t as shy as she was and he tugged on Gabe’s jacket.

“Pa said she’s going to be our new ma,” the boy announced when he had Gabe’s full attention. Daniel’s chin jutted out, fierce determination on his small, thin face. “Annabelle doesn’t need any more tickets. She’s staying with us.”

“That’s Miss Hester to you,” Gabe said, hoping to change the conversation. He paused to wipe the hail off Daniel’s hair. He didn’t quite know what to tell his niece and nephew any more than he knew what to say to the woman. “Where’s that scarf that I gave you anyway?”

Daniel hung his head at that and Gabe’s gaze moved over to Eliza. He should have known. Edges of the brown knit scarf were barely visible under the girl’s frayed coat. The boy was clutching a ragged muslin quilt around his shoulders. He’d claimed, when Gabe had asked him earlier, that he was warm enough, but Gabe could see now that there were more holes than padding in that quilt.

He took off his wool jacket and draped it around the boy. The garment was so big it almost touched the platform, but it would keep out the damp and cold. He didn’t want either of the children to get sick; they had enough trouble in their young lives at the moment.

Gabe looked back at the train and his frown deepened. When it came to trouble, they all had enough. His brother had ridden off this morning before dawn, leaving behind a note saying he’d made a mistake. Adam claimed he couldn’t face a new bride-to-be when his heart was still full of grief over his late wife’s death. Then he asked Gabe to take care of dealing with the woman on the train for him as though she was nothing more than a bit of unwanted lace that needed returning to some distant place back East.

They were all silent for a moment and then Gabe heard his nephew catch his breath. It sounded like the boy was struggling to hold back a sob.

“But she said we were to call her Annabelle.” Daniel’s voice wavered at the start, but then rose stronger as he lifted his teary gaze. His eyes flashed in defiance before he faltered again and whispered, “Until we feel easy with calling her Ma.” He stopped in apparent embarrassment at his emotion and brushed at his eyes. “Pa said, too.”

Daniel had gathered up the woman’s letters this morning and insisted on bringing them to the station—almost as though the sight of her written words would stop her from turning around and leaving. He had already seen too many promises broken in life and he would take this one hard. Gabe wondered if the boy understood just how much he and his sister needed someone.

“Miss Hester might not be staying long,” Gabe said as gently as he could, moving his hand down to rest on his nephew’s hunched shoulder. The truth was best spoken aloud even if no one wanted to hear it. “But you have me to take care of you.”

No smiles or squeals of delight greeted his promise to them. Both children stood looking at the raw planks of the platform. Their backs were to the train depot.

He didn’t blame them for not being particularly pleased with his words. They were still grieving their mother’s death from pneumonia this past spring and were likely bewildered at the changes in their father. They barely knew Gabe, even though he was their uncle, and it was unlikely their father had said anything nice about him. He had to do what he could for them, though.

Still, he shook his head. He thought his brother understood what could happen when he told him that some of the women in town were suggesting the two little ones would be better off if they were put up for adoption. Adam always had been stubborn. When he brought his children here several months ago in an open wagon, he refused to stay with Gabe, preferring to keep his grudge against his brother going even if it meant he had to make camp by the creek with his children. He pretended they were on some picnic and not just sitting there with no shelter as the nights got colder, but the townswomen knew better. They had even figured out how many nights Adam had left the children by themselves so he could go off drinking and gambling.

“It’ll be all right,” Gabe said, putting a hand on Eliza’s soft hair.

Snow had come early this year and Gabe had finally shamed his brother into moving the children to the old trading post he had inherited from their father. He wished it could have been different. He understood everyone’s grief all too well. When he was nine years old, his mother had sickened and died, too. His father had given up and sent Adam back East to be raised by their grandmother. Gabe, being judged old enough to work, was kept.

Gabe had begged his father to let his younger brother stay, saying he would work enough for both of them. But their father refused. Even though twenty-five years had passed since then, Adam still blamed Gabe for not stopping their father. Gabe wondered, too, if he had done enough.

Those bitter memories faded as the boy in front of him stepped closer to his sister.

“Pa promised that Annabelle was going to stay with us,” Daniel repeated fiercely.

“For Christmas,” Eliza added, her voice barely audible.

Today was December 21 and Gabe had heard his brother say those very words every day for the past week. There wouldn’t be any presents, Adam had warned the children, but they would have a new mother to make up for it.

“Well, he ought not to have said that,” Gabe told them flatly. His brother hadn’t said much to him since he and the children moved into the trading post, but one night, when he had run out of neighbors willing to buy him a drink and had stumbled home earlier than usual, he had talked about his land up north. Adam said he had tried to keep things going there without his wife. But his one cow had died, the fields had proven too dry to plow and the roof on his sod house had collapsed. The marker on his wife’s grave had even blown down.

“Annabelle sent her picture and everything,” Eliza reminded Gabe as they stood there.

He nodded. Adam had been sober the day he’d shown him the woman’s photograph and Gabe had hope for the first time that his brother might find the strength to start a new life. A grieving love that made a man unable to do what he had to do was something his brother couldn’t afford. He had been proud when he showed off the image of his new bride.

Annabelle was a real lady in the picture, wearing one of those fancy feathered hats in a wild rose color with all the little ribbon curls and jeweled flowers women back East liked. The hat was big enough to hide most of her face and she was looking away from the camera. Only a wisp of brown hair was allowed to escape along a fine-boned jawline. She was the kind of woman Adam would make an effort to please, Gabe told himself. His brother would stop drinking for her. Maybe she could even turn them all into a normal family.

Just then the train braked to a stop in front of the depot.

There were a dozen or so other men around. Gabe let them hurry forward and call out their greetings as the passengers started getting off the train. Finally he saw Miss Hester step down from the last railroad car.

“She’s wearing her hat,” Eliza said, her voice rising in excitement as she looked up at Gabe. He nodded. His heart was thumping inside him. The photograph hadn’t prepared him. Why, she was beautiful—and delicate in a way that made him nervous. She might be the kind of woman to give Adam a new life, but Gabe was more comfortable with the sturdy women he knew in the West. They could take disappointment. Even from a distance, Annabelle looked like a tender flower. What if she fainted when he told her his brother was gone? Or cried? Gabe might not know much about children, but he knew less about ladies like her.

If the children hadn’t dragged him forward, he would have just stood there, hoping his brother would suddenly appear and save them all from what promised to be a disaster. All Gabe could think about was that he hadn’t taken time this morning to put a fresh handkerchief in his pocket. His mother, bless her memory, would have reminded him to get one if she’d been there as he got the children ready to leave the trading post. Adam always had a clean handkerchief. He’d be ready to meet anyone, even someone he was destined to disappoint.

* * *

The smoke of the train floated down on Annabelle and she brushed the dark specks off her shoulders before putting her hand up to her hat to be sure it was secure. She’d breathed soot for days and it was a relief to be outside even though the cold made her breath catch. She pulled her heavy knit shawl tight. This morning, she’d changed into her gray silk dress, the only good one she had that wasn’t made of black mourning cloth. By now it was wrinkled, though, and her arm had started to ache from being pressed against the window.

For reassurance, she turned to look back at the friend she had made on the journey out here. Christina Eberlee looked out the window of the train and waved. Annabelle lifted her hand in response. Christina was a mail-order bride, too, and they had both shared their dreams, and worries, as the train sped down the tracks.

Annabelle turned around then, still feeling the swaying of the train. She wanted Christina to be happy for her and she knew her friend would like to glimpse her promised husband.

The flakes of snow were falling faster, but Annabelle could see well enough as she looked around. There were quite a few men on the platform and she searched eagerly for a lanky blond rancher who was handsome enough to make her blush just thinking about him. Adam had written a description of himself so she would be able to identify him. He hadn’t said he was handsome, of course, but he had indicated he was well-received so she figured he was finely made. Besides, she’d let Christina read some of his letters and they both agreed that Adam had a flirtatious tone in his letters that men got when women had been telling them they were good-looking since the day they were born.

Annabelle tried not to squint as she continued looking. Most of the men wore hats of some kind, but she didn’t see anyone who was likely to be her fiancé. Then she saw the children. Adam hadn’t been able to send a picture of them, either, but he had described them to her.

Just looking at the two sweet darlings filled Annabelle’s heart with hope. She had never expected to have a husband and children. Her father always said she was a drab bird, all brown like a little barn hen, and that men liked women who had strong colors like a strutting peacock. He ignored the fact that it was the male of that species that had the vivid feathers. Instead, he’d gone on to say that the best she had to offer a man was her usefulness. Learn how to cook good plain food, he’d advised, and don’t shirk the heavy work in a household.

Ironically, over the years, her father had chased away what few suitors she’d had. He claimed the men were not interested in her but only in the store she’d inherit someday. He’d sooner part with her than his mercantile. As it turned out, he was right. When he died in the fire that both injured her and destroyed that store and their home above it, none of her old beaux came forward to ask how she was doing. A couple of them did send their condolences about the loss of the store, though.

Alone and homeless at thirty years of age, Annabelle didn’t know what to do. All of her father’s wealth had been inside the store so all that was left was a blackened square of land. A cousin said she could stay with him and his wife as long as she needed. They were almost as poor as she was, however, and, because of the way the burn scars on her arm had healed, she wouldn’t be able to do enough to carry her share of the load. She refused to be a burden to anyone.

She didn’t have to worry about that now, though, she told herself. She had a new life with a handsome, prosperous man who understood she couldn’t do any heavy lifting and still valued her. She smiled to herself. The best was coming soon. Christina had assured her she’d feel a shiver of something fluttery around her heart when she met her future husband. That, the other woman had said with a giggle, was when she’d know she was looking at her true love.

Annabelle stepped toward the children, half expecting Adam to slip around the station building and surprise her. She knew that men wanted a certain dignity in their wives so she tried to keep her steps small and her curiosity hidden. A mail-order bride had no reason to expect true love, she knew, but on the journey here she had begun to hope for more than an arrangement of convenience.

When she reached the children, they were both beaming up at her.

“Daniel.” She smiled at the boy first and then opened her arms to the girl.

The warmth of the children’s greetings gratified her. She heard the sound of the train pulling away from the station and glanced up to wave at Christina again. At least her friend had been able to see the boy and girl.

Annabelle turned slightly to look some more, but she still didn’t find Adam. The children were not alone, though. There was a giant of a man standing beside them. He had a thick black beard and his broad face looked fierce. With his abundance of muscles, she assumed he was a hired hand. Her husband-to-be would need help with a ranch as large as the one he described.

“Adam must have sent you,” she said to him with a nod.

The man didn’t deny it.

Now that she was steadier on her feet, Annabelle told herself Adam probably meant well by sending someone else to meet her. The train ride had been tiring. Maybe he thought she would want to shake some of the train soot out of her skirt before meeting him. Besides, she wouldn’t mind learning a few more things about her future husband before she stood next to him. They’d have more to converse about that way. Her cousin’s wife had reminded her before she left that Annabelle would not have to worry about her shyness if she remembered that men liked to talk about themselves.

She felt a tug on her dress.