Pony Express Christmas Bride

Thomas’s gaze followed her. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall. Such a tiny woman for such a big attitude.

Josephine turned and looked at Philip. Her hand clasped something under her blouse as if she were seeking strength. “You will pay for this, Philip Young.” Then she followed Hazel off the porch and into the swirling snow.

Thomas looked at his brother’s stricken face. Had he not been so upset with Philip, he’d have laughed outright. For once in his life, Philip actually looked afraid. Josephine Dooly might be small, but she’d put the fear into Philip.

Renewed anger at what his brother had done turned Thomas’s tone to grit. “I’m going to follow Hazel home. I’d hate for them to get trapped in this weather. You need to get whatever is in the wagon and bring it into the house.”

Seeing Philip’s horse standing beside the porch, Thomas decided to take it for the short ride over to Hazel’s small farm.

Hazel and Josephine sat side by side on Hazel’s wagon bench. The two women were bundled up and heading down the rutted road. Thomas followed. What was he going to do now? He didn’t want to get married, but the fear he’d seen in Josephine’s eyes had been real.

If he understood her correctly, Josephine’s uncle intended to sell her to his gambler friend to pay off his own debts. No one deserved to be held in servitude to another, and if what the young woman had said was true, Thomas knew he’d never allow anyone to marry her off like a piece of property.

Deep down, Thomas knew he’d marry her to save her from her uncle and the gambler—even if this wasn’t the path he would have chosen for his own life.

Chapter Two

Josephine trembled with anger. She’d been lied to. Again. What made men act the way they did? Were there no honorable men left in the world? Josephine pulled the locket from under her dress and held it in her hand. In the past her mother’s necklace had given her a sense of hope. Now it only felt like a weighted piece of jewelry.

“Are you cold, dear?” Hazel used her right hand and tucked the blanket tighter around Josephine’s legs. Snow drifted easily about them.

“Not really,” she answered as she tucked the necklace back inside the neck of her dress. How did she explain that she trembled from fear? Her plans had seemed so simple when she left St. Joseph. She’d get to Dove Creek by traveling the Pony Express trail, then once she arrived, find her mail-order groom and get married. But that wasn’t how it had worked out. Now her future looked vague and shadowy. She tried to force her confused emotions into order, but sadness enveloped her along with the ever-constant and pulsating fear.

“Angry?” Hazel ventured.

Josephine looked at Hazel in surprise and nodded. Philip had been the one who had placed the ad and answered her letter. He’d lied to her. Like all the men in her life, he’d turned out to be a deceiver. First her father had deserted her shortly after her mother’s death, then her uncle had betrayed her by using her to pay off his gambling debts and now Philip had tricked her. Men couldn’t be trusted. “Very,” she admitted.

“I don’t blame you one bit. Phil doesn’t always think before he acts. I’m sure it never dawned on him that his meddling in Thomas’s life would put you in danger.” Her aged hands slapped the reins over the horses’ backs to speed them along.

The snow continued to fall heavily in big, puffy flakes. Josephine didn’t correct her by saying she’d been in danger long before Philip’s deceit. Instead she asked, “Why would he do such a thing?”

Hazel shook her gray head. “I might be partially to blame. I’ve been telling those boys for months that they needed wives. It gets lonely out here, but I never imagined Philip would go off and do a harebrained thing like this. I’m sorry, Josephine.”

“Miss Hazel, it’s not your fault. Philip is the one who placed the ad and encouraged me to come. He’s to blame.” Josephine looked over her shoulder. She could see Thomas trailing them, riding Philip’s horse. Had he really not known what his brother was up to? Maybe he hadn’t. His green eyes had shone with confusion when she and Philip first entered the old shack.

If Hazel heard the bitterness in Josephine’s voice, she didn’t let on. “They are both nice young men,” Hazel said, turning down another lane.

Josephine didn’t want to argue with the older woman, but right now she just didn’t see it. Philip had lied to her and pretended to be his brother; at least, he had in the letter he’d sent. And at no time during their trip out to the way station had he said anything about Thomas not knowing she was coming. As for Thomas, he might be nice, but he didn’t want to get married and she didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t marry her.

The wagon slowed to a stop in front of a farmhouse. “It’s not much, but it is home,” Hazel said, setting the brake and preparing to dismount from the wagon.

Josephine looked at the small house and smiled. She watched as smoke curled upward from the chimney into the late-afternoon sky. Its warmth beckoned to her. “It’s perfect.” Weariness weighed heavily upon her shoulders as she climbed down from the wagon.

Thomas pulled up beside them. His cowboy hat covered most of his head, but light brown hair could be seen around his ears and neck. A light beard covered his face. “Hazel, it looks like we are in for a heavy snow. Can I cut more wood for you?”

It seemed now that he wasn’t filled with shock, his voice had lowered a degree. Josephine found herself looking up at him. She liked the warmth in his expression.

Hazel answered, “No, thank you, Tom. We’re set for a few days.” She carried her basket up the steps.

A few days? Josephine hadn’t planned on staying with the woman a few days. She needed to get back to Dove Creek and to the preacher who could marry them. Her gaze moved from the old woman back to Thomas.

His green eyes searched hers. “Do you mind talking for a few minutes?” he asked, swinging down from the saddle.

“Come on inside, both of you. You can use the sitting room to have your visit,” Hazel ordered as she entered the house.

Josephine didn’t know exactly when or how she’d let the older woman take over her life, but it seemed Hazel had done just that. She turned her attention back to Thomas. “I need to talk to you, too.” If she could make him understand why she needed to get married as soon as possible, then maybe he’d agree.

He nodded and followed her into the house. Josephine stopped inside the doorway. She hadn’t expected to see a plush settee and large chair in the small home. A beautiful rug rested on the floor and colorful paintings filled the walls.

Hazel came out of a door to the right of the room. “Josephine, you can sleep in there tonight.” She indicated the room behind her and then continued on to the kitchen. “I’m going to make hot coffee. Would either of you like a slice of spice cake to go with the coffee?”

Thomas answered, “I can’t stay long.” He took his hat off and worked the brim with his hands.

“I’d love a piece,” Josephine replied as her stomach growled.

Hazel nodded and left the room. Josephine moved to the settee. “Would you like to sit?” She set her bag down.

Thomas nodded. “I’m sorry that Philip lied to you.”

“Me, too. But that doesn’t help me now.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Thomas looked to the doorway where Hazel had gone.

Was he wishing he’d followed her? Josephine sighed. “Was that all you wanted to say?”

He looked back at her. “No. Were you telling the truth? Is your uncle going to force you to marry someone to pay off his gambling debt?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled. Had he heard the fear she felt?

Josephine prayed she could make him change his mind about marrying her. “The man my uncle wants me to marry is old, smells like rotting food and is willing to take me as payment for my uncle’s debts.” She stopped, her gaze met his and she involuntarily shivered at the thought of someone like the gambler ever touching her. “He makes my skin crawl when he looks at me,” Josephine admitted.

Thomas moved his hand to the right side of his face, where a faint line ran from his temple to his chin, and asked, “And marrying me would be better?”

Josephine smiled at him. “Well, you aren’t old and I can’t smell you from here. So I think so.” When he didn’t smile back, she sighed. “Look, I just need to be married. I’m not asking you to be a real husband. I can take care of myself. In a few months I’ll be twenty-one and out of my uncle’s and Mr. Grossman’s reach. But until then, I need to be legally married so that my uncle will no longer be my guardian.”

He continued to study her. “What Philip did wasn’t right.” Thomas cleared his throat and said a little louder, “Hazel, would you join us, please?”

She immediately entered the room, carrying a plate with a slice of cake on it. “The coffee is taking a little longer to brew, but Jo can start with the cake.” She handed the plate to Josephine.

Thomas grinned. Was he grinning because Hazel had shortened her name to Jo? Josephine had noticed the woman had shortened both Thomas’s and Philip’s names, too. Maybe this was her way of showing affection to the people around her. As long as she didn’t call her Josie, it was fine.

“Thank you.” Josephine set the plate down on the table in front of her. “I’ll wait for the coffee.”

“Hazel, can Josephine stay with you for a few days?” Thomas asked.

Disappointment and fear hit her like a sack full of apples. Josephine pleaded, “Thomas, I don’t have a few days. If you aren’t going to marry me, I need to move on. My uncle is probably already halfway here.”

Hazel nodded, ignoring Josephine’s outburst. “She is welcome to stay as long as she likes.”

Thomas nodded. “Good. Who knows how bad this storm may be, but if we can, we’ll head to town tomorrow.”

“So you are going to marry her?” Hazel asked with a wide grin.

“I am,” Thomas answered. He stood to his feet. Looking down at Josephine, he said, “This storm may last a few days. If that happens, we’ll go to town and find the preacher as soon as the weather clears. The good news is that it will stop your uncle from coming for you right away.”

Relief flooded her. She was getting married just as she’d planned, but for some reason, Josephine couldn’t feel happy about it. Could it be because Thomas was only marrying her since he felt forced to do so? Was it possible Thomas would change his mind after he’d had a little time to think about it? The prospect of marrying a complete stranger didn’t appeal to her, either, but what choice did she have? She shoved the fear down that trickled up her spine and into her hairline. No, she’d not borrow trouble. But pray that Thomas was a man of his word.

* * *

The snow fell continuously as Thomas rode home. Philip’s horse snorted and pranced toward the barn. Thomas let the horse gallop as he thought about the past few hours.

Thanks to Philip, Thomas would be marrying a girl he hardly knew. Thomas had to admit the prospect didn’t rankle as much as it had at first. He didn’t know when he’d seen a prettier girl. Her red hair looked soft enough to touch, but he hadn’t dared. Her pretty brown eyes revealed every emotion that flowed through her. Was she aware of how expressive her eyes were?

Josephine had said that all she wanted was his name and the right to claim she was married. Would that be enough? She’d also said she was almost twenty-one, two years older than him. But she was still young enough to want someone she could love. Still young enough to want a house full of children someday.

He’d never be someone she could love. His scarred face had caused girls to giggle and laugh at him. While living in the orphanage, he’d been tormented because of the scar. At the age of eleven, he’d had a crush on one of the girls, only to have her scorn him with cruel words. You’re so ugly, no one will ever want to adopt you. Those words had stuck with him and they could still do damage if he dwelled on them.

If Philip, who’d been his best friend at the orphanage, hadn’t said that Rebecca and John Young couldn’t adopt him unless they took Thomas, too, then he would never have been adopted.

He dismounted in front of the lean-to, where his own horse waited to be fed. Philip’s gelding hurried into the warmth of the small shed. Thomas fed both horses and unsaddled Philip’s.

Besides the fact that he bore a hideous scar on his face, Thomas also dealt with the fact that he’d never know who his real parents were or where they had come from. He had no idea who he really was. Would any of that matter to Josephine someday?

His fingers moved to the scar. The caregivers at the orphanage had said he’d been dropped off on the doorstep with no identification and the wound on his small face. How was it that a baby of a few months could get such a gash?

Rebecca Young said that the scar was hardly visible, but Thomas knew it was there. He could feel the light groove with his fingertips. Earlier, Thomas had sensed Josephine’s gaze on it and he figured that she thought the scar was revolting. She’d shivered just looking at him.

Thomas knew he’d marry Josephine and stay married to her for as long as she wanted. But he vowed he’d never allow himself to believe that she’d care for him. With that thought in mind, Thomas headed for the house.

The snow continued its slow, mesmerizing drift to the ground. In a couple of months Christmas would arrive, and from the looks of the weather right now, it might be a white Christmas. It was hard to believe that he’d spend the holidays as a married man.

Thomas shook the snow off his collar. He stomped his feet on the porch to remove the packed slush from his boots. The question tore through him again. Was he out of his mind agreeing to marry a total stranger?

What would it be like to spend every day with someone other than Philip, especially a female? Would she expect him to be at her beck and call?

He opened the door and entered the warmth of the cabin. It really was more of a shack, but he and Philip had gladly called the place home. Now he wondered if it would be good enough for Josephine. Would she hate it? Think it ugly? Would she soon be demanding they get a place of their own?

Philip turned from the stove. His eyes danced. “Sorry I sprung her on you like that. I meant to talk to you about her before she arrived,” he said, dishing up a plate of Hazel’s stew and fresh bread.

Thomas took his gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket. He calmly hung his coat on the nail by the door. His hat was last to come off. “Philip, you have done some stupid things, but this takes the cake.” He turned to face his brother. “What were you thinking?”

Philip placed a second plate of food on the table. “Well, at the time I simply thought you needed someone to be here with you when I’m off riding the trail.”

“Why? Do I seem like the sort who needs constant companionship?” Thomas pulled a chair out and sat down.

Philip added a plate of sliced bread to the table, then turned for the coffeepot and two cups. “Hey, between the two of us, you are more sensitive. I get lonesome, so figured you did, too.” He sat down.

Thomas bowed his head, said a quick prayer before speaking again to Philip. “Then why didn’t you get a bride for yourself instead of one for me?”

“I’m not the marrying kind,” Philip said, then tucked into his dinner.

Thomas laughed bitterly. “And I am?” Didn’t his brother realize that of the two of them, he, Thomas, was the less likely to have a woman fall in love with him? After all, he was scarred both inside and out.

Chapter Three

The next day, after taking care of the morning chores, Thomas made his way through the falling snow across the back pasture to Hazel’s farm and knocked on her door.

The whole way over he’d prayed Josephine had changed her mind about getting married. Maybe Hazel had talked some sense into her. After all, would marrying him really keep her uncle at bay?

“Good morning, Tom. What brings you out in this weather?” Hazel asked, stepping to the side to let him in.

He took his hat off. “I just wanted to make sure you two were all right.”

She shut the door. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Thomas shrugged, then followed her to the warm kitchen. Josephine sat at the table cradling a coffee cup in her hands. Red curls framed her face; they looked damp, as if she’d just washed her hair. Wide brown eyes met his and he saw weariness in their depths. Or maybe it was just acceptance of the situation she found herself in.

“Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” Hazel said. She walked to the stove. “Would you like a warm biscuit with butter and honey?”

He grinned in her direction. “I’d love one. You make the best biscuits around.” Thomas pulled out a chair and sat.

In a soft voice Josephine asked, “Did you come to tell me you’ve changed your mind?” She stared into the cup instead of looking at him.

This was his chance. He could say yes and she’d probably understand, but something in the way she sat and looked into the coffee stopped him. It was as if she expected him to back out. She tucked a curl behind her ear.

If nothing else, Thomas Young was a man of his word. He straightened his shoulders and answered, “No, I just wanted to come by and see if Hazel would like for me to milk the cow this morning. It’s pretty cold out there.” He took the plate Hazel handed him.

Hazel pulled on her work boots and grabbed her coat off the hook by the kitchen door. “Thanks, Tom, but I think I’ll run out and milk her. You kids probably have stuff to talk about.” Hazel hurried out the door, not giving him time to protest.

Silence hung in the air between them. Thomas wasn’t sure what to say. He breathed a silent prayer for the right words. After he’d finished his biscuit, he asked, “What did Philip write to you about me?”

Josephine rocked the cup back and forth in her hands. “Not much. Just that you lived in an isolated place, but that we could meet in Dove Creek and we’d get married there.”

He picked up his own cup. “Well, before we get married, we should get to know one another.” Thomas set the cup down. “I’ll start. I was raised in an orphanage not far from here. My parents or someone dropped me off on the doorstep as an infant. I have no idea who my parents were or why they abandoned me like an old, torn-up shoe.” He heard the bitterness in his voice and pressed on. “When I was twelve, Rebecca and John Young came to adopt a boy. Philip and I had grown very close. They picked Philip, but he refused to go with them unless they took me, too.”

Once more he stopped. Philip was his best friend, but that didn’t excuse what he’d done this time. “I know Philip did a stupid thing by luring you here, but he’s my brother and cares about me.” At her doubtful glance, he pressed on. “Anyway, Rebecca talked John into taking us both and they became the only parents I’ve ever known. Not only did they adopt Philip and me, but five other boys, and they had a little girl, Joy, so I have a big family.” He paused to see her reaction.

She sat with her chin resting on her hands. “How did you end up out here in the middle of nowhere?” The softness of her voice and the way her eyes searched his sent a warm feeling through him.

He grinned. “Before he died, John had talked to his friend who worked for the Pony Express and they’d decided that the Young farm would be a Pony Express home station and that we boys, all six of us, would be riders. Ben is the baby boy and too young to ride.” Thomas still missed his adoptive father. “After John died, Rebecca married Seth Armstrong, and Philip and I learned that the relay station manager here quit, so we took over for him. We both still ride for the Pony Express, too.”

“How did you meet Hazel?” Josephine asked. Her brown eyes bored into his, and for a moment Thomas had the strange thought that he could lose himself in them if given the chance.

He cleared his throat. “She came over the first day we arrived. Introduced herself as our neighbor and has been a friend ever since.” Thomas grinned.

Josephine sipped at her coffee and nodded. “She’s treated me with nothing but kindness, also.” She traced the wood grain on the table, then looked back up. “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

Thomas tipped his own cup and drank the lukewarm coffee, glad for the liquid that washed through his overly dry mouth. He waited as she scrunched up her face and gathered her thoughts.

“My mother died when I was fourteen years old. My papa loved her dearly, and when she died, my uncle said Papa couldn’t stand to look at me because I look just like her. About four years later, Papa left me in my uncle’s care and never came back.”

She looked up at Thomas, and tears filled her brown gaze. “Uncle continued to take care of me, made sure I kept up my studies and that I was raised as a true lady, but last year Uncle started gambling.” She swallowed hard. Thomas noticed that she put her hands under the table. “Things in the house started disappearing—paintings, rugs, the good silver and china. At first he accused the hired help of stealing them. Then he fired them all using the excuse that they were thieves, but the truth was he could no longer afford to pay them. Then he blamed me. Out of money and ways to acquire enough money to pay his debts, Uncle noticed Mr. Grossman’s interest in me.”

Thomas felt the need to gather her into his arms and protect her from the life she described. “You don’t have to continue, Josephine.”

She nodded. “But I do. I want you to understand why I need you to marry me.” Josephine pulled her hands out from under the table. She clasped them together, but not before he saw the trembling. She continued, “Uncle explained that he owed Mr. Grossman more money than he could ever afford to repay. Mr. Grossman had threatened to have Uncle put in prison if I didn’t marry him. I asked for a month to prepare for the wedding. The next morning while reading the paper, I saw your ad—well, Philip’s ad—for a mail-order bride. I realized it was my means of escaping marriage to Mr. Grossman. He’s far older than me and has been married three other times, each time his young wife died suddenly and under suspicion. And each time he’s managed to escape the hangman’s noose. I know deep in my heart that I am not safe marrying the likes of him. I wrote to you, I mean Philip, and he wrote back saying he’d send money for my passage out here as soon as possible. But I couldn’t wait. My time was running out. So I cut off my hair, stole a pair of my uncle’s work pants and a shirt, and went to the Pony Express office to apply for a job.” She took a deep breath.

“So you told them you were a boy?”

Josephine shook her head. “No, I just asked if I could apply for the job. When the man asked my name, I told him it was Jo. He asked for a last name and I told him my name was just Jo.” Panic filled her eyes. “I couldn’t tell him my full first name or he would know I was a girl, and if I’d given the man a last name and if my uncle happened to ask him about me later, Uncle would know immediately where I’d gone.”

Thomas searched her face. Didn’t she realize she had lied by omission of the truth? She’d led everyone who worked for the Pony Express to believe that she was a boy. That was the same as lying to them. He understood why she’d done it, but it was still deceitful.

“After I got the job, I had to continue letting everyone think I was a boy. It was wrong, but I felt for my own safety I had to continue with the lie. I’ve asked the Lord to forgive me and I believe He has.” She looked at him, waiting for his response.

Thomas didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t his place to judge her, and if she’d confessed to the Lord her wrongdoing, well, that was between her and her Maker. He nodded and saw relief wash over her face. “So you got here by being a rider for the Pony Express?”

“I did.”

Riding for the Pony Express was dangerous work. How had she managed to make the rides? Had she run into bandits or Indians?