Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  Violet was afraid the man was going to topple over. He didn’t move an inch, but his eyes widened to the size of saucers and she noticed that his knuckles turned white where his hand was fisted at his side. He also didn’t seem to be breathing.

  “Now, Arthur,” Rose began, but the man shook his head and took a step back, bumping against the wagon behind him. If she hadn’t heard his response directing her to the hotel earlier, she would have thought he really couldn’t speak. His actions now only added to that illusion.

  “Really,” Rose said, her tone turning toward frustration. “You are being ridiculous. You need to give Miss Chandler a chance and—”

  Violet suddenly felt lightheaded. It was becoming painfully clear that Arthur had known nothing of her coming out west to marry him. How was that possible, though? She’d thought she was corresponding with him and, while she’d assumed his handwriting was just exceptionally neat and his haste to bring her out to Texas—and lack of personal details—a little premature and more than a little odd, she’d gone along with it. Marriage to him had been her escape as much as her next adventure. But now it was clear Mrs. Bowen had written those words, not her son.

  In that moment, Violet was prone to despair. The thought of going back to the east, back to her father’s restaurant with shame draped about her shoulders like an ugly shawl, was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d gotten more reading done on the train than she had in the last month, and it felt glorious to be in a new area.

  Yes, she could lean toward despair and play the victim, or she could do like the heroines of her novels and find another way.

  “No.” The only other word she heard from Arthur in that moment was an emphatic no, but she would not be deterred.

  Stepping forward and between mother and son, Violet held out her hands. “One moment, please.”

  Rose ceased her one-sided debate and Arthur looked at her, their eyes meeting for a long moment before he dropped his gaze.

  “I have a feeling that you didn’t know I was coming, Mister Bowen?” she asked, directing her question to his downturned gaze.

  He nodded in the affirmative.

  “But you do live on a ranch?”

  He nodded, and Rose agreed verbally. Couldn’t the man speak for himself?

  “Then I propose a deal.” This drew his attention up, his strikingly hazel eyes making her cheeks flush. “Let me stay on and help at the ranch.”

  The corner of this mouth turned up as if he wanted to smile but was wrestling the reaction back.

  “If I can make it a month, you let me stay on here in the West.” She narrowed her gaze, seeking out any hint of what the man might be thinking. “You’re not to treat me any differently than your men. I’m a hard worker and will do my fair share. Do we have a deal?”

  His mother began to protest, saying how it was her fault that she’d brought Violet out west, sure that her son just needed the opportunity for marriage for him to see what a benefit it was, but they both tuned her out, holding each other’s gaze.

  “Well?” she prompted, the gumption she felt threatening to leave if he kept looking at her like that.

  “Deal.”

  While she wasn’t sure what had caused him to bend, Violet wasn’t going to push him any further. She’d made a deal to stay on and had avoided being sent back to a life she had no desire to live.

  Still, while Arthur silently hauled her trunk into the back of the wagon and sent surreptitious glances of disapproval to his mother, Violet couldn’t help her attraction to the man.

  She knew it was foolish—he’d said little more than five words to her in the span of all this time—but there was some type of subtle strength that resided beneath the surface that drew her to him. The reality was that she wouldn’t ever get the chance to know what that strength was or where it came from, and that saddened her. It was clear he wouldn’t be able to speak more than a few words to her at a time anyway, but still, she wondered if they had met any other way, if he would have been able to feel comfortable with her in the future.

  She would probably never know.

  4

  Arthur was still in a state of shock the next morning. He’d barely managed to make it back to the ranch, listening to his mother and Violet make stilted conversation, before he’d escaped to the barn. At least there he was surrounded by quiet and able to think clearly without the scent of rosewater or the sight of delicate features clouding his judgement. He’d then managed to get to his room without detection and felt that foregoing food was worth not seeing anyone.

  But, even with the morning light, the feeling of dread still coursed through his veins. There was a woman—not his mother—living under his roof. With his brothers moved out to a bunkhouse to make room for Violet, the chance he’d have to talk to her at some point was very great. How had he actually agreed to this? Because he’d been tongue-tied. He felt like a fool. Why had he agreed with her request?

  Because those light, gray-blue eyes had paralyzed him. She’d stood up to him, her suggestion seeming completely and utterly ridiculous now, but in the moment, he’d only thought that she was beautiful and her voice sounded like a brook bubbling alongside a green meadow and he’d had to agree with whatever she said.

  He shook his head, stepping out of his room quietly so as not to wake anyone. He was being a complete and utter fool. First of all, no woman should have that much effect on him, not even his mother. Secondly, he needed to figure out a way to turn this woman down. Thirdly— He stopped that thought right there.

  “Hold on a second,” he said to himself in a whisper. That was it!

  If he couldn’t get his mother to send her home, which he had a feeling he wouldn’t have any success with, then he could let the nature of their deal run its course. No woman would be able to put up with ranch life like a man. It just wasn’t possible.

  If he could make it through a few painful—distracting—days with Miss Violet Chandler working as a ranch hand, he’d see the back of her.

  He flushed, thinking how her womanly figure would likely be just as distracting from behind, then pushed that thought away.

  Striding into the kitchen, he stopped mid-step. Violet stood at the oven stirring something on the cooktop. What was she doing up so early?

  “Good morning,” she said brightly, flashing a confident smile

  He nodded in reply and felt his jaw clench tightly enough to make his head ache. She was supposed to still be asleep. Supposed to still be in her room.

  “I still can’t get used to the change in the light here,” she said, flipping a pancake. “I woke up much before the sun was up and couldn’t go back to sleep. But then—” Another flip. “I thought a ranch hand likely had to be up early.”

  He bit his lip. She couldn’t go through with this. It wasn’t right. Then again, her staying here without some sort of guideline wasn’t right either.

  “Wouldn’t you rather go back?”

  She turned toward him, her eyebrows riding high on her womanly features. “Back?”

  “To wherever you came from.”

  While she didn’t say anything about the fact that this was the most he’d spoken to her, he had a feeling the thought was still there. Her eyes narrowed as if assessing him.

  “I came from Boston, and no, I’d rather not go back there.”

  There was a story behind those words, but he wasn’t going to ask her about it. It wasn’t fair of him to ask her to talk when he’d rather not. Wasn’t that how conversations went?

  “You shouldn’t stay.” His blunt words landed like a thick block of wood, thudding in the silence between them.

  “Look,” she said, spinning to look at him with her spatula in hand. “We have an agreement and I truly hope that you don’t plan on going back on your word.”

  “No, but—”

  “And since that’s the case, then it’s useless for us to argue. I’m going to work for my keep and that is that.”

  Blinking, he realized he’d met
his match in this formidable woman. That, and he didn’t want to stand here watching her in his kitchen. It did strange things to his heart that he’d rather not pay any attention to.

  Instead, he turned on his heel and left out the back door.

  Violet felt her face flush as Arthur left without so much as a good-bye or good day. Maybe he’d be back for breakfast, she didn’t know, but she still felt the slap of his rudeness as if it had been a physical attack. What was his problem?

  She sucked in a calming breath, the scent of flapjacks calming her in their familiarity. She could do this. She could be the type of woman who took charge and dealt with ranch duties, she knew it. Granted, she knew nothing about what she’d have to do, but she would face that challenge when she came to it.

  The image of a bold heroine, her firsts on her hips and chin in the air, came to her and gave her courage. She could be strong and resilient—she needed to be.

  “Hello, dear,” came the soft voice of Arthur’s mother. She was a kind woman with gentleness in her manner and a soft word to share at every turn, or so Violet had seen so far.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did,” she said, though she left out the reality that she’d woken hours ago without any notion as to what to do until the rest of the household was awake.

  “Are you sure that this is what you want?” The dramatic shift of conversation topics shocked Violet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Staying here, even though my son…” The woman shot a look at the back door. Had she observed their stilted conversation? “Is being a foolhardy man with his head stuck in the cow pasture.”

  Violet stifled a grin. “Missus Bowen—”

  “Please, call me Rose.”

  “Rose.” Violet summoned her courage for the truth. “I came from a situation where I worked in my father’s restaurant day and night without much of a break. He is a good man, but I do not share his enthusiasm for feeding the masses. It was either become a mail-order bride or court someone I was not interested in and likely marry into a similar lifestyle in Boston. I didn’t want that.” She turned her gaze to the kitchen’s only window that let in a little bit of morning light. “I wanted something…new.” And grand and beautiful and adventurous…

  “So you came here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Again, I’m sorry I fooled you.”

  Violet shrugged. “It got me out here and for that, I’m grateful.”

  “But working on a ranch is no small task. I’m afraid my son granted your request because he knows you won’t be able to manage.”

  “But I will,” she said, raising her chin a little. “I’ll do the best I can, and maybe—even if I can’t do everything as well as a man—he’ll see that I mean to be a good worker. That has to count for something.”

  Rose smiled, taking Violet’s hand in both of hers. “He is a good man. Smart, funny, and even charming, but that’s hard to see. I still have hopes…”

  She trailed off and Violet did her best not to grimace. Clearly, of all the qualities Arthur Bowen possessed, charm was the one Violet saw the least, but she wouldn’t begrudge a mother her view of her son.

  “Never mind all of that,” Violet said, squeezing the woman’s hands back and then turning to the stove. “Let’s have breakfast.”

  5

  Arthur tried his best not to gape at Violet as she strolled confidently from the house toward the barn. He’d left her cleaning up the breakfast dishes with his mother, half-hoping she would stay in the house rather than follow through with their deal, but here she was coming across the muddy yard toward him.

  He tried hard not to notice the way her hips made her drab dress sway back and forth with each step. Or how tendrils of her honey blonde hair slipped from the bun she’d pulled it back into, framing her face like rays of the sun. He also tried to shut out the feeling rising from the pit of his stomach that made him want to step close to her and breathe in the sweet scent of rosewater.

  This was no time for a fantasy where he became some bolder version of himself and actually held a conversation with the woman his mother had tried to foist on him.

  “Would you look at that,” came the low voice of Albert next to him.

  “Wow,” Aaron added.

  The fact that his brothers noticed the beauty of the woman coming toward them shouldn’t have surprised him. It also shouldn’t have surprised him that Albert would be the first to come toward her with a hand extended in greeting. What did surprise him was the hot feeling of…something that bubbled up inside of him. Was it jealousy?

  “And you don’t live in the house?” he heard her say.

  “No, ma’am,” Aaron said, clutching his hat in his hands like a schoolboy. “We’ve got a bunkhouse that’a way.” He pointed behind them. “It’s just Ma and Arthur at the big house. And now you.”

  “You boys will have to come up for a meal then. I do love to cook.”

  Arthur could practically feel the excitement from his brothers and stepped in before it could get out of hand.

  “Back to your chores, you two.”

  “But, Ar—” Aaron began, but one look from him silenced his little brother.

  One look from Arthur and Aaron closed his mouth and walked past them back into the barn, Albert following close behind, leaving Arthur and Violet alone in the yard.

  “What should I do first?”

  Something deep in Arthur’s gut told him this was a bad idea, but looking at Violet now, he also knew he couldn’t go back on his word to her. He could make her time difficult though, not out of spite, but in hopes that she would see what a mistake it was for her to insist staying where she could never be happy. Never be appreciated.

  “Muck out the stalls.”

  “Lead the way,” she said, and he thought he saw the tension in her smile.

  He walked into the barn Albert and Aaron had just left to herd cattle toward the back pasture. They’d be gone most of the day, but Arthur had a feeling that just a few hours in the barn would change Violet’s mind before they made their way back.

  “Clean these—” He reached across her and pulled out a shovel and pitchfork. “—with these.”

  He saw her swallow a few times, the stench of the uncleaned stalls likely making the small ridges of her nose as she recoiled at the smell. But, to his surprise, she reached out and took hold of both, nodding once.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rather than watch her struggle and eventually give up like he knew she would, he decided to have a word with his mother, the very word he should have had the minute he understood her terrible plan at the train station. The word he’d been too flustered to speak.

  “Ma,” he said, flying through the door, his breath coming out in a rush. “Ma?”

  “What’s all this hollerin’ about?” his mother said, coming from the kitchen and dusting her hands off with a flour sack towel.

  “Ma.” He shook his head, the words lodged in his throat. Now that he faced her, he wasn’t sure where to start. “How could you?”

  His mother’s playful look quickly faded to determination. If Rose Bowen was anything, stubborn only began to scrape the surface of her character.

  “Do you think I like sitting here, day in and day out, watching my grown sons playing at being cowboys while lacking what really makes a man strong?”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “Marriage to your father was not only the best thing for me, it was the best thing for him, and I only want to see you experience that same kind of happiness. Is that so wrong?”

  “Ma, I’m not…” He fumbled for the words again. “I don’t want to get married.”

  An image of Violet walking across the yard toward him flooded his mind. He didn’t want to get married…did he? He’d never considered it before, aside from those two dreadful Sundays. Why should anything change now?

  “You say that, but you won’t even consider something different. Why don’t you give Violet a chance? She�
��s pretty and—”

  “I said I don’t want to get married and I meant it. I don’t need a wife and I don’t need you meddling in my life. I’d make her go back, but I gave my word. Still, all I can see is that you interfered in my life and in turn got Violet into something she never wanted.” Protectiveness for Violet swelled in his chest and he tried to swallow down the strange emotion. He shouldn’t care this much about a woman he barely knew, yet still, his mother was to blame for bringing her out to the West without another plan in mind.

  “I’m sorry I interfered.” His mother looked at the towel in her hands. “But I’m not sorry I brought her out here. Give her a chance, son.” Then she turned and walked back to the kitchen.

  He wanted to follow her, to make her understand what she’d done, but just as suddenly as the words had come to him, they left him along with the desperation he’d felt.

  Violet’s back ached and blisters had broken out on the palms of her hands. Everything hurt, but as she stood in the middle of the barn after hours of work, she felt a deep-seated satisfaction she never would have imagined.

  Then again, she probably smelled like a barn and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk in the morning. Was it worth it?

  She sauntered to the open barn door and leaned against the rough boards, relaxing for the first time in hours. Her gaze trailed to the distant prairie and she drew in a deep breath. The fresh smell of the field of grass mingled with the beauty she saw made her certain of one thing. It was worth it.

  Violet had never been one to be outside much, but living in the city, she’d never had the occasion to. This, though… This was something else. Something entirely different and wild and beautiful, and she was certain she’d never get tired of this view.

  She took in another deep breath only to have it falter in her chest at the sight of Arthur striding confidently across the yard. For someone who seemed to have incredible troubles talking to women, he did act like he knew what he wanted. And that was definitely not a wife.