Mail Order Bride: Scandalous Territories (Clean and Wholesome Historical Romance) (Women’s Fiction New Adult Wedding Frontier)

by Angela K. West

   Copyright 2016 by Angela K. West - All rights reserved.

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  Scandalous

  Territories

  By: Angela K. West

  Soft Kiss Books

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  Contents

  Scandalous Territories

  Frontier Sister

  Scandalous Territories

  Annabelle Collins's futile attempt to return the wild strands of her blond hair to her chaff-colored bonnet began to annoy her. She had been living on this stagecoach since its departure in Chicago ten days ago, and her fellow passengers had been steering clear of her nettled disposition.

  She had sneered at the elderly gentleman who boarded the stage in Elgin and they were only days west of Rockport. Her Mama would have whipped the last breath from her body if she had witnessed Annabelle's ill-mannered behavior.

  Sheepishly, she smiled at the man as he exited the conveyance. He grunted a response, indicating he was still vexed by their previous encounter days ago. Annabelle lowered her shoulders in defeat and released an elongated sigh. She shouldn't be surprised by his reaction. After all, they had barely made eye contact since that first meeting. While the confines of the stage were modest, they had managed to avoid speaking or any other interaction, until now. Annabelle's scruples were nagging at her to make amends, but seeing his disgruntled response to her attempt, she tossed the reconciliation aside and figured the remainder of her journey with the man would be similar to her life back in Chicago. Better to avoid the conflict and move on to other important premises of existence.

  That brief thought of Chicago and the associated conflict caused Annabelle to flinch, not only physically, but also inwardly, all the way to her soul. While the scandal that occurred in Chicago weeks ago was further from her mind with each passing day, Annabelle still had the images marked in her head.

  She had slithered away from her social circles. She’d become a recluse and hid from the banishing words doled out by her so-called acquaintances. No one returned her calls for visits. Not one single invitation to afternoon tea or societal gatherings. It was if Annabelle Collins was no longer worthy. People feared association with Annabelle, as if being near her would cause that person discord in their own life, as if being a social castaway was contagious.

  Annabelle had no solution for her demise within the social circle of Chicago. Her name and reputation were ruined, and it hadn’t been her fault. Thus, in an effort to salvage her sanity, she did the unthinkable.

  Behind the shadows of the early morning fog, she had marched down the street and slipped into the stage office. There, she had purchased a ticket to Fort Dodge. She had heard talk among her father and his business associates about Fort Dodge being a sought-after location for future endeavors. Her mind needed to be at ease from the hushed whispering, and her soul craved refuge from being ostracized. It seemed the best way to accomplish these things was to start over.

  After she purchased the ticket and hid it away in her chamber, she began to feel the weight of the world lifted from her spirit. Calm and at ease with her decision, she packed into her satchel three changes of clothing, her personal toiletries, and a few other cherished mementos. The final piece of travel accompaniment was her stage ticket. This she would gather in the morning when she left her parents' home, Chicago, and her marred honor behind.

  Annabelle sighed, thinking about how that evening of packing her satchel. It felt as though it had been two years ago, not two weeks. But here she was, standing outside the stage office in Dubuque, fending off the dust and grime of traveling through vagabond territories and settlements. While Dubuque had little to offer, it definitely had more storefronts than most towns they had rumbled through. Annabelle suddenly had nostalgic feelings for Chicago. Not necessarily for the people, but for her parents and the hustle and bustle of the streets. The people coming and going, the merchants selling their goods and, of course, the divine tea served at The Albion in the Pullman Building.

  After tucking a few more strands of loose hair back under her bonnet, Annabelle set to brushing off her travel skirt and unfastening the collar button to her woolen cape. She shook the cloak. As dust released from the fabric, a cloud of debris wafted up to her. She sneezed, but continued ridding her cape of dirt. Her dreams of soaking in a tub of hot lavender water filled her head and she couldn't wait to arrive in Fort Dodge so she could set to doing just that. Right now she wanted nothing more than to find an inn and order a bath and a fine cooked meal.

  Moments later, her cape returned around her collar and buttoned in place, Annabelle watched the other passenger, an older woman, exit the stage office. The woman settled her traveling hat back onto her head and started walking toward Annabelle.

  “Lovely afternoon, if I say so.” The lady stopped beside Annabelle. “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Miss Isadore Hanson.”

  Miss Hanson’s manners as well as her attire exhibited wealth, etiquette and social standing. She likely came from an influential family back east.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hanson. My name is Annabelle Collins. I am from...” She almost said Chicago, but paused. She didn't want anyone, even strangers, to know of her past and where she hailed from. “Detroit,” she finished.

  Being cast out back home was bad enough, but to be judged by strangers would be her unraveling.

  “Oh my, you are a long way from home, my dear.” Miss Hanson cooled her face and neck with a bamboo fan.

  “Yes, I am. I am ending my journey in Fort Dodge.” Annabelle supplied her destination. The woman's traveling dress was of high quality, leading Annabelle to know the woman came from high society.

  “Oh, why in wonderment would you go there? All they have are mines of gypsum, and you know what goes along with mines...” Miss Hanson leaned in closer and whispered, “Miners. The scoundrels they are.” She tsk-tsked, clucking her tongue.

  “Oh.” Annabelle clutched her cape closer to her throat. “I hadn't known of such indecencies.” Hearing her father and his partners discussing the prospects of the area made Annabelle believe the town was a place to settle. Now she was having second thoughts about residing in Fort Dodge. But she couldn't waver from her plan. She had her stage ticket landing her in Fort Dodge.

  “You’d best turn around and find a better destination,” Miss Hanson warned Annabelle. “It would be dreadful for you to be unattended there without a male chaperone.”

  “I am not sure.” Annabelle almost told the woman to mind her own business, but thought better of being rude to the only other passenger on the long journey. “I’ll take your advice into consideration.”

  “A young lady of your regard should not be traveling alone, but be it as it may, you are. Someone must look out fo
r your well-being. Heavens knows I would feel guilt to my grave if you happened upon a less than honorable consequence,” Miss Hanson chided.

  “I thank you for your concern for my well-being,” Annabelle replied, a slow grin evolving on her lips. Miss Hanson returned the gesture and tucked Annabelle's arm under her own.

  “Let's settle back into the conveyance, shall we?” Miss Hanson led Annabelle back to the improvised stairs leading into the stagecoach. “We have a long road ahead of us and plenty of time to get to know one another.”

  The women settled into their adjacent seating as the elderly gentleman traveler rejoined them. Once all were seated, Annabelle glanced at the man across from her. He frowned. Annabelle smiled smugly at him, then silently scolded herself for being bad-mannered. Another disturbing state of conduct Mama would lecture Annabelle for, but Annabelle need not worry as Mama was hundreds of miles away and in no way in accordance to reprimand her.

  Instead of fretting over her ill manners, Annabelle smiled at Miss Hanson, as the woman dictated anecdotes.

  ***

  Reed Lewis threw the papers onto his mahogany desk. This was unbelievable.

  His solicitor and best friend, Archer Donovan, squirmed in his chair, an unwilling witness to Reed’s tantrum.

  “The audacity of the old codger,” Reed shouted.

  “He was a crotchety kind of a man,” Archer agreed.

  “Crotchety? No, the man was senile.” Reed began pacing the floor behind his desk. “He was a fool's fool, listening to the old woman.” Reed cursed at the thought of his step-grandmother. She despised Reed and any other family member.

  “He signed his testament of rightful mind, Reed,” Archer reminded his friend.

  “Rightful mind? That man hadn’t been in his mind since marrying that...”

  “Stop, Reed. What's done is done.” Archer stood up and walked to the rosewood side table where Reed kept his selection of liquor and glasses. Archer poured two glasses of scotch and handed one to Reed. “Quiet down and let's finish going over the papers.”

  Reed grumbled, accepted the glass, and swallowed the contents. “How am I supposed to meet these expectations?”

  “We’ll find a way.” Archer sat back in his chair.

  “Can it be contested?” Reed's voice sounded hopeful.

  “Not according to any jurisprudence I know of,” Archer replied.

  “Damnation, that old man.” Reed roared and slammed his empty glass onto his desk.

  “Reed, stop.” Archer jumped to his feet. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “You had better hope so, Arch. I need that money. Without it, my enterprise is failed, and I cannot let that happen. My reputation is too important.”

  “I know, Reed.”

  The two men sat across from each other with the large desk separating them. They paged through the last will and testament before them, debating the finer points, looking for loopholes. Hours later, the only possible solution was for Reed to meet the required bequeath set forth by his grandfather.

  “Oh, Lord.” Reed scowled. “So, that's it? No other possible ambiguity?”

  “None that I can see,” Archer replied, wiping his brow, hoping the flourishing pain in his head would subside.

  “Oh grand day!” Reed said.

  “I know it may seem improbable, but it will all work out for the best.”

  “How do you figure?” Reed stood and walked to his window's office. It overlooked Waterloo's main street. He lost himself and his worries for a brief moment as he watched cowhands rambling into the saloon across the street. He wished he had only the worry of refilling his whiskey bottle like the cowpokes did.

  “We will find a young lady and explain it all, with her to agree to a faux marriage.”

  “Do you really believe a woman would concur with such an arrangement?”

  “You will have her understand it all. You will pay her handsomely in the end, after the year of marriage is proven. It’s really a handsome scheme.”

  “I don't know, Arch.” Reed turned his attention back to his office and away from the goings-on of the street below.

  “It is infallible.”

  “I trust you. Let's start with potential ladies in town and see where that takes us,” Reed refilled the glasses with more scotch and they settled into making a list of eligible women.

  ***

  The stagecoach rambled to a stop at the Waterloo station. Annabelle held onto the edge of the wooden plank seat with all her might. The last few hours of the journey had become unbearable as it seemed every rock on the route was hit by the conveyance wheels. She had been jostled more in the last hour than in her entire life prior to this endless jaunt.

  She had been deep into a short slumber when she had been awakened by Miss Hanson praying for comfort and an end to the current travel conditions.

  The gentleman across the stage had his hand tightly gripping the window of the conveyance. Annabelle could hear the driver guiding the horses. Every few seconds the man on the driver seat would yell and command the horses to follow their leads.

  “What in tarnation!” Either the driver or his lookout guard cursed.

  “Oh my,” Miss Hanson exclaimed at the curses.

  The male passenger dared to stick his head out the window to see what the commotion was about. Annabelle held onto her seat tighter and shut her eyes. Every time the wheels hit a rock, she feared that the entire coach would tumble over and be nothing but splinters.

  “What is happening out there?” Miss Hanson gasped, one of her hands clutched to her chest.

  The man returned his head back into the stage. “I rightly can't see around this wagon. I wish it to be over, though.”

  “Oh, Lord, save me from the depths of an inferno. Relieve me of the pain in which I am suffering,” Miss Hanson continued her prayer as Annabelle and the male passenger quietly said their own prayers.

  “Waterloo, coming up!” one of the stage drivers hollered down to the passengers.

  “Thank you, my Lord.” Miss Hanson smiled and looked to Annabelle.

  “Yes, thank you,” Annabelle echoed.

  Minutes later, the stagecoach came to an abrupt halt and Annabelle wanted to escape the confines of the stage and fall to the ground, thankful for her safe arrival in Waterloo. Instead she exited the stage with grace, taking her small satchel carrying her most treasured possessions, and made her way across the stage office's boardwalk. She knew they had an overlay in Waterloo of an hour, so she had time to find an eating house for a fresh cooked meal. The dry biscuits she had gathered before the stop in Dubuque were hardly a meal. She had been having visions of fried chicken and boiled turnips smothered in thick gravy.

  Annabelle left Miss Hanson resting in the conveyance and headed toward the main street. If Waterloo was similar to other towns, there would be an eating establishment nearby the stage office. She moseyed down the boardwalk, sidestepping townspeople. Eventually she found Nellie's, and knew it was a place to find home-cooked meals. The aroma of fried foods, coffee, and other edibles wafted outside the bar netting hung over the main doorway.

  Stepping up to the mesh, Annabelle pushed it aside and walked into the establishment. The smells of food permeated her nostrils and her stomach growled, as if on cue. Looking to see which other patrons may have heard the rumbling of her empty belly, Annabelle was relieved no one seemed the wiser.

  She took a seat at an empty table and looked at the chalkboard near the pot belly stove in the corner. The specials of the day didn't entice her as she had her heart set on a chicken meal, but she decided to take the offering of roast beef with boiled potatoes and carrots. When she placed her order with the hostess, she asked for a few slices of bread as well. She opened her satchel and retrieved her money purse. If she spent wisely, she could perhaps gain entry into a decent hotel room once she arrived in Fort Dodge, and she’d still have money left for a few days’ worth of meals and a nice, luxurious bath.

  As she waited for her meal to
arrive, she contemplated the errands she’d need to do after she landed in Fort Dodge. She needed to settle in and get her bath. Then the next morning after a sound sleep in a real bed, she would search for employment. Maybe she could become a hostess in a reputable eating establishment—it seemed to be an honest day's pay, or perhaps she could find work within one of the other businesses along the main street.

  Before she knew it, her meal was delivered. Forgetting her manners, she dove into the food. With every bite, she moaned at the deliciousness. She had not had a solid meal in weeks and this one was definitely worth it. After the first few mouthfuls, she slowed her eating down to really bask in the delightful food.

  When she was finished, she set her fork and knife aside, wiped her mouth and set the cloth napkin down on the table. The hostess approached and accepted her payment for the meal. She thanked the young woman and picked up her satchel to head back to the stage office. If she had timed it correctly, and she was sure she had, she had about ten minutes before the stage sped off toward its final destination, Fort Dodge.

  She strolled down the boardwalk, taking a moment to see the storefronts' window displays and imagine being able to patronize one of the stores herself and purchase new fabric for a dress, or a hat. Her daydreams seemed to take her further away from the moment and before she knew it, she heard the holler of the stagecoach driver.

  “Oh heavens,” she gasped. Clenching her satchel closer to her bosom, she hiked up her skirt hem and began running toward the stage office. By the time she arrived, out of breath and scared, she saw the dust left behind the stagecoach's departure. “Oh, no.” She was too shocked to even cry.

  “No, no, no.” She sputtered the simple word. “Now what will I do?”

  In moments of despair and emotion, she really missed her father. She wished he were here to help her. He would know what to do. He was always full of wisdom and common sense. Sucking in her lower lip to keep the tears in her eyes from escaping, Annabelle tried to think about what her father would say or do. Shutting her yes, she imagined her father standing next to her. She strained and listened for his voice to enter her thoughts.