An Inconvenient Marriage

by Christina Miller

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from SUDDENLY A FRONTIER FATHER by Lyn Cote.

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  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading my second Natchez story! Since my first visit there many years ago, Natchez has been an inspiration to me. The wealthiest city in the country before the War, Natchez has since struggled to survive. But its citizens decided to give it a second chance, working hard to restore the grand old homes there. Their Garden Club Spring Pilgrimage—the inspiration for Camellia Pointe’s Spring Festival—draws droves of history lovers each year as the town opens their antebellum mansions for tours.

  God offers us all a second chance—for eternal life, for love, for peace—as we place our trust in Jesus. My prayer is for you to discover that second chance as Samuel and Clarissa did, and to rest in God’s love, knowing you are restored to Him.

  I’d love to hear from you! Please contact me through Love Inspired, at www.Facebook.com/christinalinstrotmiller or at @CLMauthor.

  Christina Miller

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

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  Suddenly a Frontier Father

  by Lyn Cote

  Chapter One

  Wisconsin Wilderness

  Early September, 1873

  Standing on the sunny riverboat deck, Mason Chandler was painfully aware of the intense curiosity of the other passengers. No doubt it did look odd for a man to be traveling with two little girls yet without a woman. Little Birdie stood on his right and Charlotte on his left in their new matching starched blue calico dresses. The tops of their bonneted heads barely reached his belt. If the girls had resembled each other or him, people might have merely assumed that he was a widowed father with two daughters.

  Certainly, Charlotte with her light golden-brown hair and green eyes could pass for his child. But Birdie with skin the shade of dark chocolate could not. And of course, there was the other matter, Charlotte’s special problem, that set them apart.

  People had stared at them ever since he’d boarded the boat in Illinois. He might as well get used to it. He had no doubt that some of his once-friendly neighbors here in Pepin, Wisconsin, would be shocked and then no doubt cool toward him. What about Miss Jones, the woman who’d answered his newspaper advertisement for a wife?

  After corresponding with her for months, he’d proposed to her by letter earlier this year. But he’d been called away to his father’s deathbed and could not be in Pepin in March to marry her as they’d planned. Now it was September. He was six months too late. And his circumstances had changed so dramatically that he had sent her a letter months ago releasing her from their agreement. What else could an honorable man do?

  He could only hope that he would have time to get settled in again before he finally met Miss Emma Jones. He hoped to be able to mend the situation. But it was a faint hope. So much had changed.

  Well, this wasn’t the first time in his life he’d swum against the current. He placed one arm around each little girl. These two little ones were his now, and he wouldn’t let them down, no matter what.

  The crew suddenly began calling to each other and hurrying around, casting the ropes ashore, jumping onto the pier. The steamboat slowed, glided on the sky-blue water and bumped against the dock. Mason picked up his satchel and the small valise that belonged to the girls. And soon they were walking onto the Wisconsin shore.

  Though his life had changed, the town looked much the same as it had when he’d left in March. There was a blacksmith, Ashford’s General Store, and a few other stores on Main Street, along with a saloon at the end of town. Now, in early autumn, the street was dusty and the trees were still green, though scarlet edged a few high maple leaves. The blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil pounded clear in the afternoon air.

  The little girls huddled close to him. He caught himself as he began to stride normally, and instead he shortened his steps. Before going to his cabin, he needed to buy a few necessary items at the general store but dreaded facing the inquisitive, talkative Mrs. Ashford. Why put it off, though? He led the little girls across the street and up the two steps to the store.

  Plump and grandmotherly, Mrs. Ashford met him on the porch. “Mr. Chandler, you’re back.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I need—”

  “And who are these little girls?”

  He was saved from replying when the woman looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, “Miss Jones! Here is your intended, Mason Chandler. He’s come home at last!”

  Mason turned. His heart was thumping suddenly and his mouth dry. Miss Emma Jones, the woman he’d hoped to marry, halted just a few paces in front of him. He drank in her appearance. Tall but not too tall. A trim figure. Bright golden curls atop a face so lovely he thought he might be dreaming. Miss Emma Jones was a beauty. His hope of winning her favor bumped down another notch.

  Mason shook himself mentally and, after setting down the baggage, descended the two steps again. He bowed politely. “Miss Jones, I’m happy to meet you face-to-face at long last.” An understatement.

  “Mr. Chandler.” Her voice devoid of welcome, she offered her gloved hand.

  He shook it and held it in both of his. Neither her words nor tone encouraged him. “I apologize again,” he said, forcing out the words, “for my not being here to meet you in March. I’m afraid I had little choice. Still, I wish things were different.”

  “The arrangement you made for me to stay with the Ashfords worked out well. They made me very welcome.” She paused to smile at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m sorry about the loss of your father.” She withdrew her hand from his.

  He felt his neck heat with embarrassment for holding her hand too long.

  “I was just asking Mr. Chandler,” Mrs. Ashford interrupted, “who these little girls are.”

  At this moment, Charlotte spoke to Birdie with her hands, as was her way. Birdie replied in kind.

  “What’s that they are doing with their hands?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

  Mason replied, “This is Charlotte, my little half-sister, and her friend Birdie. Charlotte cannot hear. They speak in sign language.”

  “She’s deaf?” Mrs. Ashford’s voice fell. “Oh, the poor little thing. What a judgment.”

  “A judgment?” Miss Jones challenged her. “What could a little child have done to deserve being judged?”

  Mason looked at his once-intended bride. She’d said what he’d wanted to.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Mrs. Ashford apologized. “I’m just sad for the child.” Then
the woman looked worried. “How long will your sister and her little friend be visiting here with you?”

  “I have adopted both girls,” Mason said, bracing himself for the backlash, not looking toward Miss Jones.

  Mrs. Ashford’s face widened in shock. “How can you take care of two little girls all by yourself?” Before he could answer, she turned to Miss Jones. “You two will have to get married right away.”

  He couldn’t help himself. With a quick glance, he sought Miss Jones’s reaction.

  She looked as if someone had slapped her.

  Mason had not expected her to be pleased with the change in his circumstances, and it was worse to find out here in such a public place where they couldn’t talk this through. He closed his eyes in defeat.

  “Mrs. Ashford,” Miss Jones began, “Mr. Chandler has just returned—”

  “Aren’t you going to go through with your engagement?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

  Here, right here on Main Street—was this where Miss Jones would let him down?

  At that moment he heard someone approaching. He turned and saw Levi Comstock, the burly blacksmith and his good friend, coming. Or, he had been a good friend. Would he remain so?

  Still in his leather apron and with his soot-blackened face, Levi held out his hand. “Good to see you back. Asa’s still got your cow and—also a new heifer—”

  “A heifer?” Mason asked with surprise.

  “Yes, your cow had a nice little calf in the spring.”

  Mason couldn’t speak. Such good news.

  “And those two and your chickens are all in good order with Asa. I still have your horses and wagon at my place. When would you like to come get them?”

  In reply to all this warm welcome and news, Mason clasped Levi’s large, strong hand and shook it heartily.

  “Well, Mr. Chandler,” Miss Jones spoke up, “I am happy to have met you and I will see you again soon, I’m sure.”

  “But Miss Jones,” Mrs. Ashford spoke up, “you’re on your way to your sister’s home today, aren’t you? Mr. Chandler’s homestead is just up the road from there. You two might as well keep each other company on your way. You can bring Mr. Chandler up to date about all that’s happened in our little town while he was away.”

  Mason did not appreciate the storekeeper’s wife’s suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to “keep each other company.” And it was more than obvious that Miss Jones didn’t want to, either. But what could they do here on Main Street but comply?

  * * *

  Emma literally clamped her teeth on her tongue, holding back a sharp retort. She wanted to get away from Mason Chandler. Coming upon him without warning had jumbled her thoughts and emotions in a way she had not expected. But what could she say to Mrs. Ashford? She could not be rude on the main street of town. “Of course,” she said politely.

  Mason appeared uncomfortable, too.

  She liked him better for that.

  “You’re pretty,” one of the little girls said, looking up at her with big brown eyes and chubby brown cheeks.

  Emma wished once again that people wouldn’t point out her outward appearance. She knew that they meant it in a complimentary way. But she was more than just a pretty face. However, saying this would not be polite, so she merely smiled at the little girl.

  Mason asked Mrs. Ashford for the few items he needed to purchase, and then soon the four of them started up Main Street, heading toward her sister’s place. Then Mason could go on from there to his homestead.

  For the first few minutes while they were walking through town, neither of them said anything. She didn’t want to be thrown together with Mason, the man she planned to let down lightly. She wasn’t rejecting him personally. After losing Jonathan, she’d never wanted to marry. Only dire need had forced her to accept a proposal from a stranger. But she did not need to marry now as she had in March. So she would be polite and distant.

  Soon the four of them were walking a grassy track up a rise from town, thickly guarded on both sides by towering maples, oaks and fir trees. Emma decided talking was better than this awkward, heavy silence. Besides, she wondered how had he come to adopt two little girls. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m interested in your girls.” She left the question open for any way he chose to answer it.

  He cleared his throat. “My father, a widower, told me about losing Charlotte’s mother. When he died, I went to Illinois to find my little sister.”

  That commanded Emma’s attention. Some men might not have been concerned enough about a little sister, especially a little half-sister, to go looking for her. Again, this was to his credit. She wanted to ask about the other little girl, but again her desire to keep her distance and her idea of politeness held her back.

  “Birdie also lived at the orphans’ home in Illinois,” Mason continued as if sensing her unspoken question. “When Charlotte came to live at the orphanage well over a year ago, the woman who runs it, a Mrs. Felicity Gabriel Hawkins, located someone in Chicago who knew sign language and hired her to come teach it to Charlotte. That teacher said that it was better to have two pupils because they could help each other. And Birdie was already Charlotte’s best friend.”

  “I liked Charlotte right away,” Birdie said. “And I wanted to learn how to talk with my hands.”

  At that moment Charlotte looked up to Emma for the first time.

  Emma was moved by the lost expression in Charlotte’s green eyes. And she was fascinated as she watched how Birdie worked her hands, communicating with the quiet girl walking beside her. Emma suppressed the urge to hug Birdie and silently promised to be a good friend to this little sweetheart. “I’m glad you did, Birdie. I like Charlotte already and I like you, too.”

  Birdie smiled up at her as she evidently signed to Charlotte what Emma had said. Charlotte almost smiled.

  Suddenly Emma realized that somehow Mason was slipping past her carefully constructed defenses. He was kind. Generous. And not hard to look at, either. Blushing, she quickened her step, hurrying them as much as was polite.

  Another question niggled at Emma. Should she ask it? Yes, it would distract her from her awareness of him and not give him time to turn the conversation to “them.”

  “So you were allowed to adopt both girls?”

  “That was what caused the further delay in my returning,” Mason said. “Mrs. Hawkins questioned me about my qualifications to take charge of my little sister. Which wasn’t surprising since she didn’t know me.”

  “Of course,” Emma murmured. A blue jay sounded its raucous song as if jeering at her, trapped in this uncomfortable situation, talking politely to a man she had agreed to marry but no longer wished to.

  “I told her I was homesteading in Pepin, Wisconsin. That’s when she said her childhood friend, Noah Whitmore, was also homesteading in Pepin.”

  “She knew Noah Whitmore?”

  “Yes, they grew up going to the same Quaker meeting in Pennsylvania. And she decided to write to him to gain a character reference for me.”

  “It’s amazing how God orchestrates matters.” Emma believed this, yet felt the old tug of disappointment. She’d prayed fervently for her fiancé Jonathan to survive the war. But evidently God had denied her request. Someday she hoped she could accept that with peace. She drew in a slow breath, wishing the brittle feeling around her heart would leave her.

  “I suppose,” he said.

  His uncertain tone caught her attention. What disappointment had he sustained? She brushed away this sudden sympathy and went on. “Since you are here with your girls, Noah Whitmore must’ve given you a good character reference.”

  “I am very grateful for my girls.” Mason glanced with obvious affection at the two little ones.

  The paternal glance softened her resistance again. She would have to be careful around this man, so as not to mislead him. She’d given all her
love to Jonathan and she had nothing more to give.

  “Some man kilt Charlotte’s mama and she couldn’t hear no more,” Birdie said. “The doctor say she ’sterical deaf.”

  Shocked, Emma glanced at Mason. Was this true?

  His jawline had tightened.

  Emma could tell he did not like this being spoken of. And she didn’t blame him. “Bad things happen in this world,” she commented, trying to bring the uncomfortable topic to an end.

  The little girl nodded solemnly and began to sign to Charlotte.

  Without looking at Emma, Mason said, “Birdie, please don’t sign what I’m going to say now to Charlotte. It upsets her when people talk about it.” Then he did look at Emma. “The doctor called Charlotte’s condition hysterical deafness. He said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the structure of her ears, inside or out. We fear that Charlotte’s mother was murdered and perhaps Charlotte witnessed it. That’s what Mrs. Hawkins was told by the person who brought Charlotte to the orphanage.” He appeared to want to say more but he didn’t.

  The hair on the nape of Emma’s neck prickled at the horror this sweet little girl might have witnessed. Emma completed his thought. “I will not speak of this.”

  “I think it’s best for the girls if we don’t. People somehow transfer what a person’s family has suffered to them—as if they have been judged, as Mrs. Ashford said.” He glanced downward. “Will you remember that, Birdie?” he asked gently.

  “Yes, sir!” Birdie said. “I only said it ’cause I can see Miss Emma is a fine lady.”

  This uncomfortable conversation ended as they turned the bend and ahead lay her sister’s farm. Judith was doing laundry in the shade of an old oak tree beside the cabin.

  “Judith!” Emma called out with sincere relief. “You’ll never guess who this is!” Emma made an attempt at teasing, trying to lighten the moment. She hoped Judith’s husband, Asa, would appear and relieve her of Mason Chandler. She wanted to be alone to sort out her unexpected reactions to him. Or better yet, talk it over with Judith in private.