Winning The Mail-Order Bride

“Eat,” Brett said quietly. “Before it gets cold.”

She nodded, and though each bite swelled in her throat, she forced it down and took the next one. Just as she would each and every obstacle that came her way. Eventually it would get easier.

At least that was her hope.

When her plate was empty, she set down her fork. Within seconds, Brett handed her the platter that remarkably still held several pieces of fish. It made her think of Jesus feeding the masses, and that was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She hadn’t asked for a miracle, yet it appeared one was happening. With tears stinging her eyes, she shook her head.

“You haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive,” Brett said, sliding two more pieces of fish onto her plate. He then added two more eggs to her plate before holding the plate over the center of the table. “Anyone else need more?”

Both boys eagerly accepted the offer, and the man, whose booming voice could startle birds from the trees in the next state, laughed so softly, she may have been the only one to hear it.

When little more than crumbs sat on all the plates and platters circling the table, Fiona said, “I do believe that was the best fish I’ve ever eaten.”

“Me too,” Rhett agreed. “I didn’t even know I liked fish that much.”

Laughter, including hers, filled the room. As it settled, Fiona set her napkin on the table. “Mr. Blackwell, we can’t thank you enough for this fine meal. Therefore, I do hope you won’t mind when I insist upon doing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” he said while shaking his head.

“I believe it is,” she said. “And I insist.”

He jumped to his feet to pull her chair back as she prepared to stand. Hoping he understood that she had to repay him in some way, she looked up to meet his gaze.

There was tenderness in his blue eyes, but there was something more, something she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen before, but an inner, almost foreign instinct said it was respect.

“I will allow you to help with the dishes,” he said. “I’ve been doing them for so long, I’d feel lazy watching you do them all by yourself.”

“Well, I guess that’s fair,” she said, rising to her feet.

“We’ll help,” Wyatt offered.

Lately, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to feel pride, or be proud of her sons, but she was proud at this moment. The table was cleared in no time, and with her permission, the boys went outside to play. After scraping some soap into the tub of warm water, she started washing the dishes and, upon his insistence, handed them to Brett to dry and put away.

“I—uh—I’m sorry about your husband,” he said when the silence grew a bit thick.

“Thank you,” she said out of courtesy but then broached the subject she’d been contemplating since finding the boys at his house. “I can only imagine what my sons told you.”

“Nothing bad,” Brett said. “Just that their father had died and that you came here to marry Josiah Melbourne because some church lady told you to.”

“That about sums it up,” she admitted.

“Sounds to me like that woman needs to listen to what the preacher’s preaching.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “That may be true, but it was what we needed—the boys and I. A fresh start.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, don’t you have any family?”

“No. My parents died when I was young.”

“Who’d you live with, then?”

“My aunt and uncle. They had several of their own children and were very glad when I married Sam.” She bit the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t like her to blurt out such personal information. If she hadn’t stopped herself, she would have told him she and her sons wouldn’t have been any more welcome with her aunt and uncle now than she had been twenty years ago.

“How old were you when you married your husband?”

“Seventeen. I thought I was old enough. Thought I knew what I wanted.” Grabbing another plate, she clamped her back teeth together. One meal shouldn’t make her feel as if she needed to share her entire life story. She must be overly tired and not thinking straight. Or nervous. Being alone with him had heightened her senses. She could feel him moving about to return the dishes to their rightful places. Knew the exact moment he stepped closer to her again. Like right now. Beneath the wash water, she squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“Oak Grove is a good town,” he said. “You’ll like it once you get to know everyone.”

“I hope so,” she said. “The boys need a place where they feel welcome.” That was better. What the children needed wasn’t a hidden secret.

“We all do,” he said. “Big or little.”

“That’s true.”

“That had to take a lot of guts,” he said. “Courage, I mean. For all of you. Moving away from Ohio.”

He was obviously as nervous as she was, and the idea of that—of a man his size, so capable of so many things, being uneasy—made her grin. Only because in some silly, unfathomable way, it made her relax a bit. “I wouldn’t call it courage,” she said.

“I would. That’s what it takes. Some folks spend their whole lives wishing things would change but never once realize they have to do something to make them change.”

She handed him the last pan and then walked to the table to wipe it down. “You say that like you’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“I have, more than once.”

The thoughtfulness of his tone had her turning around. He merely grinned before turning around to put the pan in the cupboard. Her heart skipped a beat and the swelling in her throat made her swallow, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything to say, even though she’d like to know more. She wanted to know why a man so kindhearted, successful and handsome wasn’t married. Were the women in this town blind? His back was to her, and even that was so fit, so muscular and shapely in how it narrowed from broad, thick shoulders to a trim waist, it awakened that feminine and primal part deep inside her that hadn’t been awakened in a long time. A very long time.

She had to swallow again as he turned about, and tightened her leg muscles to keep her from wobbling.

“I’ll go dump this water,” he said, picking up the tub.

Heart thudding, it was a moment before she trusted her legs to work. Then she crossed the room and draped the cloth over the edge of the counter. “I—I’ll collect the boys. It’s getting late, and...” Unable to think of more to say, she nodded. “Thank you again for the meal.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

Drawing another deep breath, trying to quell the awakening that continued to grow, she hurried out the door.

Chapter Three

The single bed in the house was small and the mattress so thin it fell between the rope stays. It shouldn’t matter. Fiona was so tired and worn-out more than any other time she could recall—she should have fallen asleep as fast as the boys had.

Thankfully, her breathing had returned to normal and the throbbing in parts of her that shouldn’t be throbbing had stopped. That had happened hours ago, yet sleep hadn’t arrived.

As her gaze went to the window, to the quiet darkness emitting nothing except a single star in the faraway sky, Fiona knew she couldn’t blame her sleeplessness on the bed, or even on her body’s reaction to spending the evening with a handsome man.

She was scared. Scared she’d made the wrong choice.

Brett’s kindness, how he’d shared his fish and eggs with them, should be looked upon as a sign of what the others in the community were like. How she and the boys would be welcomed. Instead, she was comparing him to Josiah. Weighing Brett’s welcome against Josiah’s. Everything inside her said the differences would continue, and that made her fear what was to come in the next few days. And the years after that.

She’d had practice in that area. Comparing men. As Sam had changed, she had too. She’d started to compare herself to other women—how happy and satisfied they were in their lives to how she felt. That was when she’d started to compare their husbands to Sam. Not just in attractiveness, but how they treated their wives. Her hope had been to find a man who would treat her and her sons with compassion and kindness this time, and she greatly feared that hadn’t happened.

Would life be better for her children here? It had seemed that way in Ohio. That moving away was their only chance to find something different. She’d lost all hope back there and was having a hard time finding any tonight. Or of finding any peace in believing she’d done what had to be done, any optimism in believing she had the strength to continue upon this path she’d chosen.

She wasn’t a weak or frail woman. Hard work had never worried her, and her faith had never failed her, yet it was none of those things that lingered in the back of her mind right now. It was her. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a mayor. Of a man so prominent. More than that, though, was her worry of how Josiah would treat her children. He’d shown no compassion or understanding for what they had been through before leaving Ohio nor shown any concern about their arrival in a strange place. Not even when it came to their hunger.

She’d had to be strong her entire life and had hoped that would change here. That the man she’d promised to wed would be her shelter against the storm that had raged upon her for so long. Life had worn her out, and she was tired of being tired. Tired of fighting the battle by herself.

Perhaps she was just being selfish and just needed time to get to know Josiah better.

The bed creaked as Wyatt shifted.

Lying on her side in order to leave as much space for the boys as possible, Fiona twisted to look over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” she whispered as he slipped off the bed.

“To sleep on the floor,” he said.

“No, Wyatt, you—”

“It won’t be any worse than the train,” he said, gathering one of the blankets.

“I’ll—”

“No, Ma, I will sleep on the floor.”

He was stubborn, especially when he set his mind to something. Pulling the pillow out from beneath her head, she handed it to him. “Take this pillow too.”

“No. You need that one. Rhett’s using the other one. I’ll be fine.” A thump and shuffling sounded as he settled onto the floor. “I’ll be right here, so don’t worry, Ma. Get yourself some sleep.”

Curled up near her feet, Rhett was using the other pillow, and tears burned her eyes as she replaced the pillow beneath her head. For all his orneriness lately, Wyatt was still a good boy at heart and had taken it upon himself to be the man of the family ever since Sam had died. “Good night, honey.”

“Night.” Silence barely had time to settle when he asked, “Do you think Brett would give me a job, Ma? He owns both the feed store and the blacksmith shop.”

Brett did own both businesses, and she’d already witnessed enough to believe he was generous enough to give anyone a job. Yet she couldn’t tell that to Wyatt. “You’re too young for a job.”

“No, I’m not, and if Brett gave me one, you wouldn’t need to marry the mayor.”

Fiona closed her eyes to gather any invisible strength still hiding somewhere inside her. “Yes, I would,” she whispered. “I gave him my word. I can’t go back on that.” She pinched her lips together and dug deep enough to say, “Besides, I want to marry Mr. Melbourne.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, Wyatt, I do.”

“Don’t see how you can when he don’t like none of us.”

“He never said—”

“He didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes. He thinks we’re thieves. Thinks Pa was a thief too. Just like the folks in Ohio did.”

As hard as she’d tried to keep the children from hearing what had happened to their father, they had heard. Knew Sam had been with the Morgan brothers when they’d tried robbing the train. Knew he’d been shot while trying to get away. He’d made it home. Died in their bed. Therefore, everyone in town had thought she’d known what he’d been up to. Thought she could very well have been a participant. She hadn’t been. Hadn’t known what he and the Morgans had conjured up, but few had believed that.

No one had been more shocked by what had happened than she was. Sam had never stooped to such dire actions before. Things had never been easy, money had always been tight, but they’d managed. Somehow they had always managed. Losing his job at the refinery the year before had devastated Sam. Changed him. In ways she couldn’t explain, nor had she liked who he’d become. Always angry. Always blaming others for things that truly hadn’t mattered. Including her and the boys.

She swiped aside a single tear and drew a deep breath. “Your father was not a thief. He made a mistake. A terrible mistake. One he paid dearly for. You go to sleep now. And no more talking about jobs.”

Fiona felt more than heard Wyatt roll over, face away from the bed, and she had to pinch her nose to stop from sniffling as tears rolled down her cheeks. A part of her hated Sam for the pain he’d caused them. Her and Wyatt and Rhett. And for the disgrace they’d encountered. The hatred and scorn that had been bestowed upon them had been unbearable. Leaving Ohio had been the best choice, her only choice, and without Josiah’s offer, without his paying for the tickets, it would never have happened. If for no other reason than that, she would stand by her promise and marry Josiah Melbourne.

* * *

As usual, Brett rose at the break of dawn and set a pot of coffee to brew on the stove. It was Sunday, and the few chores he had to do—feeding and cleaning up after the team of horses he used to pull his wagon and kept housed in the barn connected to his blacksmith shop—wouldn’t take long. Never did. He missed having more to do in the mornings. Back home there had been cows to milk, hogs to slop, eggs to gather, chicks to feed, water to haul. All sorts of things. There was room in his barn and on his property to have more critters, but seeing he didn’t need them with just him to feed, he figured he’d wait until he had a family before acquiring anything more than the set of buckskin horses.

After pouring a cup of coffee, he glanced around the room and sighed. Washing dishes had never been something he enjoyed. It was just a chore that needed to be done, but last night it had been more than a task. Drying the dishes while Fiona washed them had been enjoyable. Even though he wondered if he’d asked too many questions, especially when he’d enquired about her husband. He hadn’t meant to pry but had been curious and had wanted to know more about her. Still did.

If he breathed deep enough, he could almost smell flowers again. And looking at her, well, that in itself was enjoyable. Especially when she smiled. It was like watching a bird take flight, gracefully opening its wings to catch the wind. Despite how beautiful her smile had been, it seemed almost rusty. Like she hadn’t used it very often. If he could change one thing about her, that would be it. Actually, that was the only thing that needed to be changed about her—her smile. It needed to become well used. Never leave her face.

Maybe he could ask them over for supper again tonight. That had made her smile last night, and having her and Rhett and Wyatt sitting at his table had given him more joy than he’d experienced in a long time. Those boys had been hungry, and even though she’d tried to pretend that she hadn’t been, she had been hungry too. Watching her eat, he’d wished he’d made more than just fish and eggs.

Their arrival should have been celebrated with a full meal. A fancy one, complete with dessert. That thought caused a knot to twist in the center of his stomach. As soon as he figured Josiah would be awake, he’d pay the man a visit. There were several questions rolling around in his head. Questions Josiah needed to answer.

With his thoughts trailing straight back to Fiona, Brett carried his cup of coffee outside and walked around the corner of his house, to where he could see the little city-owned house. As he stood there, staring across the area covered with grass that wouldn’t turn green again until it rained, he wondered what had happened to make Fiona agree to become Josiah’s wife. She was a sensible woman and didn’t seem like the type to take up with Josiah. Then again, she most likely hadn’t known exactly what Josiah was like when she agreed to marry him.

The front door of the house opened, and Fiona emerged, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders before pulling the door closed behind her. She was wearing the same dress as yesterday, but her hair was loose. Long and brown, it flowed over her shoulders, down her back, fluttering in the wind as she walked down the two steps and then made her way toward the outhouse.

Giving her privacy, or perhaps because he didn’t want to be seen staring at her, Brett turned and walked around the corner of his house. Taking a sip of his coffee made another thought form. The boys had said there wasn’t any food in the house they’d rented. At that thought, he entered his house, collected a clean cup and filled it with coffee. He then grabbed the handle of his egg basket. There were only six left, but that should be enough to hold Fiona and the boys over until the mercantile opened.

Outside again, Brett peered around the corner until he saw Fiona walking back toward the house, and then he hurried in that direction.

“Good morning,” he greeted, stopping her before she could open the front door.

Turning about, she released the hold she had on the doorknob. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Blackwell.”

Her voice was soft, and he tried to lower his as he stepped closer, understanding the boys were still sleeping. “I brought you some coffee and some eggs. The mercantile doesn’t open until eight.”

The small smile on her lips didn’t falter, but something about her did, and he wondered why. “The coffee is still hot,” he said. Plenty of people didn’t like cold coffee. Plenty of people didn’t like coffee. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea.”

She shook her head slightly. “I prefer coffee, thank you, but I—”

“Here.” He handed her the extra cup. Thinking of last night when he’d had to coax her into eating, he then set the basket on the top step. “Do you have a minute?”

“Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes, but we have to hurry.”

She frowned but nodded. “All right.”

He would like to have taken her hand but settled for gesturing for her to walk alongside him. They walked around the side of the house so they were facing east. The land was flat all the way to where it met the sky, which was turning from pink to orange.

Stopping, he took a sip of coffee and watched out the side of his eye as she did the same. Without looking her way, he said, “Last night, I told you tomorrow would be a new day. Well, I thought you might like to watch it appear.”

“Oh, my,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

“You don’t like watching the sun rise?” he asked, surprised. He thought everyone enjoyed watching the sun slowly creep into the sky.

She shook her head, then nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever watched one before.”

“Never watched a sunrise?”

“No.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess I never had time. Or maybe I thought others would believe it was a waste of time.”

He thought that might be the saddest thing he’d ever heard. “It doesn’t take long,” he said. “And it’s worth it.”

Glancing down at the cup she held with both hands, she nodded before looking back up at him and smiling softly.

“Considering this will be your first full day in Oak Grove, I can’t think of a better way for you to start it.”

“I can’t either.” Her gaze shifted, straight ahead, to the center point where the earth met the sky.

A small hump of yellow had formed and was pushing the orange glow higher. They stood there, silently, sipping their coffee and watching as the yellow continued to rise and form a half circle that slowly grew into a majestic ball with a center so bright it looked white.

As happened every morning, yet still a miracle in itself, the sun soon rose completely above the ground, shooting its glorious rays in all directions. Then slowly, yet too fast to actually define precisely how or when, the sky in all directions turned a crystal clear blue. He’d seen many sunrises, but this one seemed to be the most beautiful one ever.

Hearing her sigh, Brett glanced her way. The full smile on her lips made his insides rise as gently as the sun just had.

“That was beautiful. Simply beautiful.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to look directly at him. “Thank you.”

In all his years he’d never suddenly been struck with a want so strongly, but right now he wanted to pull her into his arms to hug her. And kiss her.

Not sure how to make those desires disappear, he took a step back and glanced toward her house. After clearing the lump from his throat, he said, “Those boys of yours will be hungry again this morning. Boys always are. They’ll want to start exploring Oak Grove too.”

“How do you know so much about boys?”

“Because I was one,” he said. “And I had several brothers. Seven actually. Four older and three younger.”

“Your poor mother—she must have had her hands full.”

“She did, but she also had a broom and wasn’t afraid to use it on any one of us.” Memories of home made him smile. “I guarantee none of us wanted to make her mad enough to use it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

He couldn’t stop a short bout of laughter. “You’ve only heard a part of it. You see, if any one of us got Ma mad enough to use the broom, that meant Pa would use the belt on us for making Ma so mad.”

“Oh, my.”

“For the most part, she didn’t use that broom for nothing but sweeping up the mud we hauled in on our boots, and Pa didn’t use that belt for anything but holding up his britches.”

“Learned early, did you?”

He winked one eye. “About the same time I learned to walk.”

Her giggle was soft, but the sparkle in her eyes said he hadn’t imagined it. He nodded toward the house. “You got two good boys in there, ma’am. Plenty to be proud of. Polite and well behaved.”

She nodded and started walking toward the house. “Thank you. I sincerely hope they behaved yesterday, and I apologize again for their arriving so unannounced. For myself too.”

“I won’t accept any apologizing. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

They rounded the house and she held up her cup while stopping near the steps. “Thank you for the coffee and the sunrise. You’ve made my—our arrival something we’ll never forget.”

Sensing there was more behind her words, things he shouldn’t press her on, Brett gestured toward the basket on the back stoop. “I gotta go see to my horses, but if you need something to go along with those eggs, feel free to take what you need from my kitchen. The door’s open.”

“The eggs are more than enough, Mr. Blackwell, thank you.” She then glanced at her cup, which was still half-full.

“The pot’s on the stove,” he said while turning about. “Help yourself to more coffee if you want.” Although he knew she wouldn’t help herself to more coffee or anything else, he wished she would. His heart was lighter this morning than it had been in a long time. A very long time. Because of her.

As he walked past his house, he set his cup on the porch rail and then headed over to feed his horses. It was during that time, while forking hay into the corral, that he realized the mercantile wouldn’t be open today. Most every business in town observed the Sabbath. The town had passed a special ordinance for a few to be open, mainly Rollie Austin’s hotel and eatery.

Brett set the pitchfork aside and then walked around the lean-to that held his forge. Wally Brown, who oversaw the feed store for the most part while Brett saw to the blacksmithing, usually gave the horses their grain, but not on Sundays. Besides working for him, Wally worked for the livery. He had living quarters in the barn loft over there and kept an eye on things overnight.