by Leah Atwood
Fire And Ice
Brides of Weatherton Two
Leah Atwood
Copyright © 2014 by Leah Atwood
Cover Design © Covers by Ramona
Cover Image © The Killion Group
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Note from the Author
Other Titles from Leah Atwood
Excerpt from Come to Me Alive
Excerpt from The Most Wonderful Bride of The Year
Chapter 1
Chicago, Late August 1893
Small voices carried through the air and into the bedroom. Maeve Benetton smiled with bittersweet joy as she listened to her brothers and sister chattering away in the next room.
She would miss them so.
Standing up, she moved from her spot by the trunk to the makeshift shelf where her dresses hung. One by one, she removed them from their hooks, draping them over her arm. After she’d taken the last one down, she carried them to the trunk and carefully packed them inside.
Her hand brushed against cold metal. Instinctively, she looked down to see what she had touched. It was the small framed tintype of her mother—one of only two in existence. Pa had given it to her last night, a going away present of sorts. She’d been touched that her father would part with it, never knowing if he’d see it again.
A glance at the portrait was like looking into a mirror. There could be no doubt of a familial connection between mother and daughter. In the picture, Ma was still living in Ireland and was only slightly younger than Maeve was now. It would be another few years before she came to America and met Maeve’s father.
Though the vividness of the copper-colored hair and emerald-green eyes could only be captured in a shade of gray, all other features were the same.
An immense sense of loss struck her. “Am I doing the right thing, Ma?”
“She’d be very proud of you,” a voice answered from the door. Maeve turned her head and saw Pa standing in the doorway. “And she would tell you to follow your heart wherever it may lead before wishing you a lifetime of love and joy.”
Pa’s words made her eyes mist—because of their meaning and because she couldn’t imagine not hearing his loving and soothing voice again after she left tomorrow. His strong but compassionate tones could calm even the fiercest storm. Blinking, she forced the tears aside. Great things were waiting for her in Wyoming. And who knew—maybe one day, telephones would have the capability of making a phone call to span that long a distance? A laugh almost escaped. What a thought!
“Who will care for the children when I am gone?” The troublesome question had kept her from finding complete peace regarding her move.
“The children and I will get along fine.” Pa came to her and placed one hand on her shoulder. With his other hand, he tipped her chin. “Mrs. Daley downstairs will be taking care of Ryan and Emily when school is not in session. Next week, Shane will begin his job at the factory with me.”
Scrunching her nose, Maeve debated the merits of Mrs. Daley caring for the two youngest Benetton children. The positive side was that she would give Ryan and Emily lots of love. An elderly woman, she had raised six children of her own and had numerous grandchildren. Even at seventy, give or take several years, she was spry with energy unseen in many people half her age, and she could easily keep up with the young ones.
But on the downside, Mrs. Daley was notorious for her lackadaisical discipline. The entire apartment building knew when her grandchildren were staying with her as they could be heard running up and down the stairwells at all hours of the day and night. For someone like Maeve, who thrived in a neat and orderly environment, the wildness rattled her.
A smirk formed on Pa’s face. He must have read her mind. “Ryan and Emily are good and well-behaved children. They know there are boundaries of proper behavior, which I will continue to enforce. You have been a wonderful daughter and sister, stepping in to help with your siblings. But that’s what they are—your siblings—not your children.”
Maeve frowned. True, but she loved them dearly and had been a mother figure in their lives for six years, since the summer she’d had her fourteenth birthday. That summer her life had changed when Ma passed away.
“Take heart, my child. Perhaps my meaning did not come across clearly. I know how deeply you care for Shane, Ryan, and Emily, but you must live your own life, have children of your own. Don’t fret on our behalf. The children and I will miss you horribly, but we wish you nothing but happiness.”
She threw her arms around him as he drew her into a fatherly embrace. “I love you, Pa.”
“Ah, Maeve, my sweet, brave, first-born child. You will always hold a special spot in this old man’s heart.”
“You’re not old. Patrick said his ranch does well and is one of the finest in Wyoming. Maybe next year he would be willing to bring you and the children west.” She brightened at the thought and stepped away from her father’s embrace. “Think about it, Pa. How wonderful would that be?”
Pa shook his head slowly. “My life is here, in Chicago. I may not have much by way of possessions, but I have a satisfying job and four young ones who fill my heart with joy every day. It’s not always been an easy life, but it’s been a good one.”
She smiled, just barely a sliver. Within moments of voicing her idea, she already knew that would be her father’s answer. Though she would love if they could all be together in the west, Pa’s roots were here. However, his faith and unwavering optimism in the face of adversity was something she would take with her and never forget. “Perhaps a visit then?”
“That I will consider, for the opportunity to see my daughter again.”
Maeve tucked her trembling bottom lip under her top line of teeth until her emotions subsided. “Tomorrow’s goodbye won’t be forever, will it Pa?”
“Not if I can help it.” Pa paused, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. His eyes had a curious sheen to them before he turned to walk away.
The following day, Maeve awoke before the sun had risen and she took the opportunity for some quiet reflection. After lighting the candle on her bedside table, she quietly slipped out of the room she shared with Emily. She walked to the desk where she’d stored the letters from Patrick, so she could easily grab them before leaving. His poetic words warmed her soul, and she wished to keep the papers folded inside her skirt’s pocket so she could read them along the train ride.
Patrick’s love, along with the letters as a tangible reminder, would ease the grief of leaving her family. Somehow, she’d fallen in love with a man who was a stranger by definition, yet she felt she already knew him. She sat down in the chair and hugged the top letter to her chest. Not much longer until she met him in person and became Mrs. Patrick Holden.
She reread the most recent letter for the tenth time since its arrival. Patrick had included all pertinent inform
ation about what to expect upon her arrival. Weatherton, the town outside of which he resided, was a small town surrounded predominantly by ranch land. They were fortunate to have the railroad run through so she wouldn’t have to take the stage at all. On the day she was scheduled to arrive, he’d be waiting for her at the train station, a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Her heart skipped a beat. How quixotic it all sounded. Sometimes, more often lately, her pragmatic side gave way to romantic notions.
How she came into correspondence with him still amused her. Shane had actually been the instigator. Late one evening, he found a discarded newspaper along the street. He’d picked it up and brought it upstairs to their apartment, knowing how much she enjoyed reading the various printed stories. On this particular day, he’d also read through the pages, entertained to no end when he discovered men placed advertisements, in search of brides.
Maeve had read the advertisements before, and each time, a secret longing rose in her chest. Long ago, her mother had told her to travel if ever given the chance and see the world beyond her own little space. To Maeve, the west seemed an exciting place, so contrary to the life she knew. But while she sometimes privately longed for more, as her mother had wished for her, her personality quickly shunned those desires, replacing them with the need for routine and familiarity.
Unbeknownst to her, as a prank, Shane had written to one of the gentlemen on her behalf.
Much to his surprise, the gentleman had written back. The look on Shane’s face when he’d told her—why, his cheeks had been redder than her hair. She’d fumed for a good hour, then proceeded to lecture him about the inappropriateness of his actions. Not only had he embarrassed her, but he’d wasted the gentleman’s time and postage.
“Then don’t let it be a waste,” he had said. “Read the letter and write him back.”
“I couldn’t,” she’d insisted. “I have no intentions of leaving my family to move west and marry a stranger.”
But that urge to explore, find more in life, prodded her, and that night she’d read her first letter from Patrick. He wrote with a fluency she’d not expected and his words latched onto her heart. By the next morning, she’d written a reply to him. A correspondence began and before long, she’d agreed to marry him.
The pitter-patter of feet could be heard from the boys’ room, ending her quiet time. She folded the letters and carried them back to her room, where she slipped them into her pocket once she was dressed. The time to say goodbye had arrived. Shortly after the sun rose, they’d have to make their way to the train station. Fresh tears fell just thinking about leaving Pa, Shane, Ryan, and Emily.
But in her sorrow was joy, for she was leaving the love of her family for the love of a good man.
Chapter 2
“You want me to do what?” On the threshold of losing his temper, Sam Holden gritted his teeth immediately after his outburst.
“All I’m asking is for you to meet her when she gets off the train. It’s not that big of a deal.” Patrick’s flippant response pushed him over the edge.
His boots thumped against the dirt as he stomped down the three steps from the porch, leaving his brother behind. There was no way he’d partake in this. It wasn’t right. He stopped in his tracks, then turned back to Patrick, his indignation taking over.
“No big deal? You sent away for a bride, decide you don’t really want one and then ask me to go get her. What next, Patrick? What will happen to this poor girl you’ve brought all the way to Wyoming. Did you think about that?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he squinted his eyes, daring his brother to argue. He could count on his hands how many times he’d stood up to his brother, but when he did, Patrick knew lines had been crossed. “Of course not because you never think of anyone but yourself.”
Patrick took several steps forward, stopping when he was within an arm’s reach. “I didn’t say I didn’t want her,” he hissed.
The front door to the house swung open and Ma stepped out. She didn’t say a word but gave him and Patrick a pointed glare. Her fatigued eyes held a clear message—stop the fighting. Clucking her tongue, she shook her head and then returned inside.
Grabbing Patrick’s elbow, Sam dragged him toward the barn. “We’ll finish this conversation away from the house. Ma doesn’t need any more worries though, I have a feeling you’ve just added a trough full.”
“Always so dramatic.” Patrick jerked his arm free and sauntered away as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
After his brother had entered the barn, Sam remained outside a minute to take a deep breath and cool his rattled nerves. He’d just about succeeded when his gaze landed on a portion of the barn that needed repairs. Frustration mounted again as he thought how there never seemed to be time to accomplish all the tasks. The barn had needed repairs since winter’s thaw, but he’d kept putting it off in favor of other tasks deemed most necessary. By the looks of it now, if he didn’t fix it soon, even more damage would occur. If Patrick would stick around and pull his weight, life would be much easier.
Only the bond of blood kept Sam from a complete dislike of Patrick. How could two children, twins at that, be so different? He’d wondered that many times over the years. There was nothing similar between them, not even in appearance. Patrick took after their maternal grandfather in looks, with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Quite the contrast against Sam’s own fair features which mimicked those of their late father. Whenever they met someone new, inevitably, the person would look back and forth with surprise, disbelieving the brothers were twins.
Women were instantly drawn to Patrick’s swarthy looks, but, unfortunately, didn’t realize until too late that his moral compass, which guided his life had long ago been lost. There existed a line of broken hearts from Weatherton to Cheyenne, and, far as Sam knew, Patrick didn’t feel a bit of remorse for his behavior.
Sam, on the other hand, believed in doing the right thing. It’s what defined him as a person. Without his integrity, he’d have nothing. It’s why he’d stayed home and took over the ranch when Pa died, forsaking his dreams of going to a university. Goodness knew Patrick couldn’t be counted upon to help, but Ma couldn’t do it alone, and the other siblings were too young to shoulder the responsibility.
An aggravated sigh escaped. Maybe having a wife would be good for Patrick. Perhaps the woman would entice him to settle down once and for all and take responsibility. But first a marriage would have to occur, and it seemed Patrick had no intentions of making that happen, which led back to what he’d asked Sam to do.
Standing outside wasn’t accomplishing anything. Reluctantly, he went inside the barn to finish the conversation.
“Are you going to help me out?” Patrick leaned against the far wall, chewing on a piece of straw.
“Why can’t you meet her?”
“I have other plans.” A raucous gleam in his eyes told more than Sam wanted to know.
Disgusted, he kicked the dirt floor of the barn, sending a puff of dust into the air. “What are your intentions toward this girl?”
“Which one?” Patrick winked.
Cheeks puffed out, Sam didn’t need to look into a mirror to know his face was red with anger. “The one coming on the train. The one you are bringing here to marry.”
“Ah, Maeve. An Irish lass with red hair.” Patrick discarded the piece of straw and crossed his arms casually over his chest. “All the girls around here have become too boring and standard. A redhead will add some variety.”
Huffing in deep breaths, Sam struggled to control his balled fists from shooting out and knocking his brother in the jaw, such was his level of repugnance. “Is marriage a joke to you?”
“You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, Sam. I’m just having some fun before I settle down.” A shoulder lifted in a carefree shrug.
“And when will that be? Your fiancée will be here in three days. What kind of man goes to see another woman in place of meeting his betrothed at the train station?”
Patrick squinted
his eyes and the lines on his forehead crinkled. Finally, a chink in his blithe attitude. When he spoke, his voice was low and gruff. “I’m not like you. Honor and integrity weren’t built into me like they were you. You’re the good son, not me. I know what you think of me and most of it is probably right. But I promise, once I marry that’ll be it. I won’t run around on her, but I need more time.”
Something in his voice gave Sam pause. There was a hint of… humanity? Morality? Maybe there was hope for him yet. Patrick had never come close to baring his soul or discussing his feelings. Not that Sam made a habit of it either, but he knew how to be serious and accept responsibility—something his brother had never shown an inkling of interest in until just now.
He didn’t condone Patrick’s behavior, nor did he fully trust anything he said, but he was willing to budge a bit on the chance Patrick was thinking of changing his ways.
Besides, if he didn’t meet this lady at the train, what would happen to her? Weatherton was a good town, overall, but it wasn’t without its unscrupulous citizens. What if one of his sisters found herself in a similar situation, stranded by a scoundrel of a man.
Well, that would never happen as long as Sam was alive because he would never permit his younger siblings to travel alone and happen into such a circumstance. On his deathbed, Pa had charged his two eldest sons with care of their younger siblings, and Sam had no intention of letting Pa down as he looked on from Heaven.
“Well?” Patrick looked at him, his eyebrows arched in query.
“I will, on several conditions.” Squaring his shoulders, he looked his brother in the eyes. His erect posture against his brother’s slouching eliminated any height difference between the two.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever happened to helping family for the sake of being kind?”
Ignoring his question, Sam put forth his conditions. “First, you go to church with the family every Sunday for the next four months.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Straightening his stance, Patrick attempted using height to his advantage, but Sam wouldn’t be deterred.