The Cowboy's Stolen Bride (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

“Do you know what it says?” she teased. “Of course not,” she added quickly. “A washerwoman who can read? How absurd.”

  Amelia kept silent. Mrs. Hill was a nasty woman who thought herself superior to every other person in town because she was the mayor’s housekeeper. “I’ll go about my work now,” Amelia answered emotionlessly.

  Amelia walked away from the woman and did her best to remain calm as she walked to the laundry room. There, she found Millicent Roach already at work. The young woman was twenty-four, two years older than Amelia, but she was already married with three children all under the age of five.

  “I was wonderin’ what happened to you today,” Millicent stated.

  Amelia smiled meekly. “One of those days,” she replied as she tied her apron around her waist. She looked at the large piles of linens to be cleaned and pressed. She took a deep breath and got to work.

  She filled the basin with water and soap flakes and began to wash the bed linens.

  Amelia’s mind kept thinking of the photograph she’d seen. A small smile spread across her face as she remembered the image.

  “What’re you smilin’ at?” Millicent asked.

  Amelia turned to look at the other woman. “You’ll think I’m silly,” she replied.

  “No, I won’t,” Millicent insisted. “Tell me. Anythin’ that can make you smile like that is worth knowin’.”

  “I saw a photograph of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Amelia admitted as she stopped her work to look at her friend. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Where did you see this?”

  “Upstairs. It was in the newspaper,” she explained.

  Millicent looked at her curiously. “In the newspaper? What was it doing there?”

  “It was the photograph of a man who was looking for a wife,” she answered.

  “A mail-order bride ad?” Millicent questioned. “You were lookin’ at one of those? I didn’t think you were the type to be interested in such a thing.”

  Amelia frowned slightly. “Why not? Don’t you think I want to be married one day? Have children?”

  “It’s not that, it's just you can’t be sure with those things,” Millicent explained. She stopped her ironing and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She was a plump woman, with a large grin and an equally large gap between her front teeth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you might end up with someone who’s just like your father,” Millicent answered. “You need to be very careful. Anyone can say something in a letter. It doesn’t make it true.”

  Amelia considered her friend’s remark. She was right. Just because Oliver Gyles was handsome, didn’t make him have a good heart. Only time and acquaintance could reveal such things.

  Millicent smiled. “What’s his name?”

  Amelia laughed. “Oliver. Oliver Gyles.”

  Their day continued as usual after that. They talked some of the ad but that was soon set aside when Mrs. Hill came to inform them that the mayor was expecting guests and more clean linens were required. They would have more work before the day was through.

  That evening she found herself thinking of Oliver Gyles once more. A mail-order bride. She never thought about such a course in her life, but Amelia could not deny its appeal. A young, handsome man who might want her for a wife, a new life in a new state, and a chance for a happy home. It was more than she had ever hoped for in her life. Still, Millicent did have a valid point and one that gave Amelia pause in her consideration of the ad. The last thing she wanted was to replace one tyrant with another.

  She was tired as she stepped onto the small porch. It was too late to work the land, and she was sure the thought of doing so had yet to cross her father’s mind. She did have to tend to the cows and the animals before going to bed. Her day was far from over.

  Amelia milked the cows and the goats. She fed the animals and collected the eggs before entering the house. She walked in to find her father where she left him, though a little worse for wear. He opened his eyes as she walked into the room.

  “What are you doing here?” he slurred.

  “I live here,” Amelia replied, as she walked across the room and set the basket of eggs on the small table near the stove.

  Her father stumbled to his feet behind her. “I mean, why did you come back?”

  She looked at him in confusion. “I live here,” she replied. “Where else would I be?”

  “Anywhere else but here,” her father answered as his voice began to rise. “I thought you’d finally left. That I was finally rid of you.” He staggered toward her. “Why can’t I get rid of you?” he yelled. He turned and staggered back to his chair, grumbling with every step.

  Amelia watched him go and for the first time in her life, his action toward her did not yield the usual sense of hurt and disappointment. On the contrary, this time, she felt resolve course through her veins. If he wanted her gone, then she would see to it that he got his wish.

  She put the eggs and milk away before she strode to her bedroom and closed the door. Her father remained, muttering in his seat, as she passed him. She was too tired to argue with him further or to prepare a meal at that time of night. It would not be the first time they went to bed hungry. Amelia was the sole, functional person in the household. Everything should not be left up to her, but it was, and sometimes she simply did not have the energy to carry on.

  It will not be the last time I go to bed hungry.

  Amelia held her stomach as she sat on the edge of her bed. She allowed herself to fall back against the sheets as she rubbed her hand at her stomach’s complaints. She stared up at the ceiling and imagined the face of a man she had never met before. Surely, Oliver Gyles could be no worse than her father? A man, who looked as he did, and asked for a wife as he had, could not be so. There was only one way to find out. She would have to write to him.

  She bit her lip at the thought. How would she go about this? She would not want anyone to know her plans, not even Millicent. Whatever she did, it had to be done in secret. Amelia began to formulate a plan to get the information from the newspaper and writing implements.

  Mrs. Puck. She would have what I need, and my visiting her would be nothing to question. She would also keep my secret as she did before.

  A smile spread across Amelia’s delicate features as she rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up onto the bed. Tomorrow, she would find the newspaper and write to him. She was sure he couldn’t be worse than her father, and it was a chance for her to see someplace new. Somewhere far better than where she was.

  Somewhere I can be happy.

  Chapter Two

  Amelia lay on her bed, excitement causing her heart to dance an elated beat as she prepared to go about her household chores. The days were much brighter now, and her happiness spilled into everything she did. She rose with a bound and cheerfully set about her day.

  “Your eggs and bacon,” she stated as she set the food before her father. She set the plate of flapjacks on the table with the butter and maple syrup. She brought over the pot of coffee and poured it for him. Her father didn’t like milk and sugar, but she put them on the table for herself before taking her seat.

  Her father eyed her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?” he questioned as he stabbed his fork into the stack of flapjacks and pulled out two in one go.

  “Nothing,” she replied with a smile. “Can’t a person just be happy?”

  “Not without cause,” her father countered. “And you’ve been smiling like a Cheshire cat the past few weeks.”

  Amelia smiled brighter. It pleased her that her happiness seemed to annoy her father more than her unhappiness. “I’m surprised you noticed,” she commented. She folded her hands and gave thanks for the meal before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Don’t take it to mean that I care, because I don’t. You were just so annoying running around here like you came into some inheritance,” he commented with annoyance.

/>   “Don’t worry Father, if I did, I’d be sure not to keep the money anywhere you could find it,” she answered smugly.

  Her father launched a scathing gaze in her direction, but she ignored him. She had much better things to consider, such as the letter hidden away in the pocket of her skirt.

  The day passed quickly with that thought in mind. Amelia stayed on the ranch doing what needed to be done. Her father went into town to the saloon to gamble and drink as usual. She didn’t mind, she was thankful for the quiet and the privacy. It did not even bother her that he was spending money they could not afford to lose, she was far too happy to consider it.

  She plowed the field early. It took hours and her hands were red and sore by the time she was through, but she was contented when it was done. They had one plow horse and a single blade plow that she walked with to guide it and ensure the rows were straight. She set to work sowing the seeds for the corn immediately after, which took far longer. They had to be planted a few inches apart or the quality of the yield could be compromised come harvest time. It was backbreaking work but she did it without complaint.

  That evening she made dinner of day-old roast beef, that she received from the mayor in appreciation for the hard work she and Millicent had done to help prepare his house for his special guests over the past months. It seemed their dear mayor wanted to pursue a place in higher office, that of governor. All of the staff received such a reward for making his efforts so successful.

  Amelia ate alone. Her father remained in town. She did not want to think of the condition he would be in when whoever took pity on him brought him home. She didn’t care, either.

  Once the house was in order, and there was nothing left for her to do, Amelia washed, shut herself up in her room, and finally opened her letter. It was her joy at the end of a long day and she used it as a way to motivate herself to get through it.

  She sat up in her bed and opened the note. Months had passed since she started corresponding with Oliver Gyles. She had pursued her plan, gotten his information, and written to him only days after seeing the advertisement. Five months had passed since that time, and she found herself more and more enamored of the man. She smiled as she began to read to herself.

  My dearest Amelia. I write to you as I watch the sun setting over my ranch. I wish you could see it with me. The clouds are streaking across the sky, white set against blue and purple in the east. The sky looks like it’s on fire in the west as the sun sets beneath the mountains. It looks like someone painted it with a line of blue, then purple, then rising up to orange and yellow. The mountains look as if they could touch it. Do you like sunsets? I don’t think I’ve asked you that before. There is so much I don’t know about you. So much I want to know.

  Her heart fluttered at the words. Amelia cherished every letter she received from Oliver. Sometimes, she read them ten times over just to convince herself of what she had read the first time. It seemed like a dream to have someone care so much about her, and be so interested in the things that interested her.

  I want to know more about you, Oliver.

  She continued reading. I’m sorry you have to work so hard. It isn’t fair what your father does to you. A man should take care of his family. It’s his responsibility.

  Amelia’s forehead wrinkled slightly. Since she and Oliver had grown closer, she had revealed a lot about her life, including her situation with her father. Oliver always had something comforting to say, yet there was something that troubled her.

  Despite the length of time that they had corresponded, she still felt as if there was a lot she did not know about Oliver. He rarely shared anything about himself the way she did. She knew nothing of his past, except that he lived in Rattleridge his entire life. He was the sole owner of a property there, but she knew nothing about his past or his people. Amelia had asked, but he seemed to be avoiding those questions each time. She believed there might be some pain associated with that, so she stopped asking. She knew what it was to want to keep certain things private. She could understand why Oliver would want to keep some things a mystery. It only seemed to add to his allure.

  I try to imagine what you look like. Each time I come up with something different, she continued to read. It’s a shame that you don’t have any photographs, but I understand why that isn’t possible.

  Amelia sighed. She would have loved to send him a picture. He had sent one to her after they started writing to one another. She looked at it every day. She kept it hidden behind a loose board in the hayloft of the barn. Her father never did anything that could resemble work so it was safe there. He had no reason to go into the barn at all except to get a saddle, and even in that, he would leave the responsibility to her. It was a much better hiding place than her room.

  What does your laugh sound like?

  The question made Amelia smile. How could she describe her laugh to him? He often asked questions that provoked her to think. Oliver liked her to describe herself, the things she liked, her dreams. Since becoming acquainted with him, she had discovered there was so much more she wanted in life, more than she had ever considered before. He made her turn her dreams from ideas in her head to words on paper. Once written down, they seemed even more real and possible.

  I want to see you, she continued to read the letter. My imagination is not enough. I know you are even more beautiful than I can fathom. I know that might seem silly to you, but I know, from what you’ve written to me, that you have the kindest heart of any person I’ve ever met. Even with your father. He treats you poorly, but you still love him and try to do what’s right by him. Not many could do that. That alone makes you a beautiful woman.

  Amelia thought of her conduct with her father. She wished she was as good as Oliver thought her to be, but she wasn’t always that way. Sometimes her father’s treatment got the better of her and she lashed out. She always regretted it after, but the man had a way of provoking her. She loved him. She always had loved him. He just didn’t love her back and no matter how hard she tried, it didn’t seem that he ever would.

  That night, Amelia fell into a peaceful sleep, the thoughts of Oliver and his kind words repeating in her mind. She also thought of the letter she wanted to write back to him. She would visit Mrs. Puck the next day and put it on paper.

  * * *

  Amelia twisted her golden hair into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She wore a smile on her slender face as she looked into the small piece of mirror nailed to her wall. There once had been a proper mirror, but her father had broken it in a fit of rage years ago and it had yet to be replaced.

  Her brown eyes seemed bright as she checked her appearance. Amelia was not a tall woman, in fact, she was rather short at just over five feet tall. She was slender, but well-shaped, with delicate curves.

  She walked out of her room and out the front door. She pulled on her leather gloves as she stepped down from the porch and walked toward the barn. She was wearing a simple white blouse and long brown trousers that she’d sown herself, after getting a pattern from the local seamstress. It was a style growing in popularity, and which made work around the ranch a lot easier.

  “Where do you think you’re goin’?” her father questioned as he stepped out the door behind her. He remained on the porch as Amelia turned to answer him.

  “I’m going into town,” she replied with a smile. “Do you need anything?”

  He squinted in her direction. “You’ve been goin’ into town a lot lately. What’re you up to?”

  “Nothing,” Amelia replied as she turned with a smile.

  “I know you’re up to somethin’!” her father bellowed after her. “You best not bring shame to my house or my name!” he continued to yell at her. “A woman whose actin’ like you are has to be up to no good. You mark my words, girl! You better not shame me!”

  She refused to turn around or to answer her father, despite his provocation. She didn’t care what he thought of her or what he said. The only words she cared about were Oliver’s.


  Amelia swung her leg over the back of her white stallion and walked him out of the barn. Her father was still on the porch when she passed by. He glared at her and then spit in her direction. “You look like a tart with your hair done up like that.”

  An urge to respond rose up in her chest, but Amelia beat it back. She would not allow her father to spoil her mood. “I left breakfast in the oven for you. You can eat it if you like or throw it out if you don’t want it. It doesn’t really matter. I’ll be in town all day so you’ll have to manage on your own for lunch and maybe for dinner, as well.”

  He shook his head at her. “And where in town might you be, and what might you be doin’? It ain’t your day to work at the mayor’s house.”

  She smiled. “Goodbye, Father.”

  Amelia kicked her heels into the horse’s sides and immediately the strong beast took off at a run. She leaned forward against the wind and kept her eyes on the sky ahead of her. She could hear her father’s angry yells behind her but she could not decipher them. All she wanted to hear were the words that repeated in her head, the things she wanted to tell Oliver Gyles.

  She arrived at Mrs. Puck’s house less than an hour later. She tied her horse to the tree outside the one-story house and walked briskly to the door. She knocked twice and a few minutes later was still standing there. She was about to leave, thinking Mrs. Puck had left home, when the lady answered the door.

  Her former teacher welcomed her with a smile, a hug and an apology for making her wait so long. Her once dark hair was now completely grey, but that was a process that had started early in Mrs. Puck’s life. She had a head of salt and pepper by the time she was forty, and now at fifty, it was silver.

  “Amelia,” Mrs. Puck said as she embraced her. “You’re here earlier than I thought. I was just finishing up some things when I heard you know. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “I’m sorry I interrupted. I can come back later if you’d like. You know what? I better come tomorrow. I’m very sorry for troubling you all the time. I sort of took it for granted that you’d always be available.” Amelia continued to apologize as she turned toward her horse.