Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4)

by Julianna Blake

  His mother laughed, tears still shining in the corners of her eyes. “You bet I did! That was an experience I never, ever wanted to repeat itself.” Her laughter died away, and she reached forward, covering his hand with hers. “Don’t you see? Those five minutes were the worst in my whole life. Worse even than watching your father pass. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t go on until I found you. Mollie has been suffering the most excruciating torture a mother can face, for ten months straight! Not knowing where your baby is? Whether she’s hungry, or cold, or crying out for you? Whether she’s with kind people or cruel people? If she’s even alive?”

  She held her fingers to her lips again, to staunch another sob. “Mollie Quinn Jamison is far stronger than I ever knew. Stronger than me. Stronger than you. She may not have gone about things the right way, but as a mother, I can’t say I blame her. I can’t say I’d do different in her shoes, either. She may have a lot of things to make up for, especially to you, but for doing right by her baby? That isn’t one of them. And you,” his mother pointed at his chest, “you have some things to make up for, too. I understand why you’d be angry. But after all she’s been through—losing her baby, traveling across the country to marry a strange man and commit her whole life to him, just to get near her child, then being turned away without even so much as getting to see her baby, and then getting arrested on top of it all—don’t you think she deserves a little compassion? At the very least, she deserves a husband who’ll sit down and hear her out—not run off because it’s too much for him to deal with.”

  “I…I just didn’t want to make things worse.”

  “Noah Jamison, that’s a lie and you know it! I’ve raised you up, boy, and I know when you’re avoiding an unpleasant situation. You’ve hardly had to suffer a day in your life. You’ve never known the struggles most people go through. I’ve tried to protect you from all that, and maybe that’s not a good thing. You’ve grown up strong anyway, though. I’m grateful for that. You handled your father’s death well, stood by my side, and kept his business running without missing a step. But you’re not as strong as you could be, and you’re nowhere near as strong as that wife of yours. So you go back home and beg her forgiveness and fix things, before she decides that she has nothing left to stick around for.”

  “Wait—you think she’ll leave?” A churning rocked Noah’s stomach.

  “That’s what I would do. I’m a God-fearing woman, despite my dislike of established churches. I believe marriage is forever, and I believe you shouldn’t let the sun set on your anger. But if I’d lost my child, and then my husband turned his back on me, I’d find it hard enough to go on at all, much less to go on in a town full of strangers, when I’d already lost everything.”

  A searing pain squeezed through his heart. She can’t go! I can’t let her go. Despite all of Mollie’s actions, and the pain they had caused him, she was still his wife. He still wanted her. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t imagine life without her. He still loved her.

  And he’d never even told her.

  “I have to go!” Noah launched off the stool. “Telephone Clay Porter, have Herman walk you home!” he yelled as he ran through the shop, unlocking the front door and thrusting it open.

  He was a block away before the cold settled into his bones, the icy wind numbed his face, and he realized he’d left his coat and hat behind. He didn’t care. Getting home in time to stop Mollie was the only thing that mattered.

  Chapter 25

  The minutes it took to run several blocks home were the longest of his life.

  Each block seemed to stretch on for a mile, and his chest burned from the icy air. He worried that he would be too late, and the agony of it took a toll on him--he felt a token of the same pain his mother must have endured for those minutes when he’d disappeared as a child, and a tiny sliver of what Mollie must have endured for ten long months, separated from her child. The cavernous hole in his chest that was left behind when he thought of a life alone, without his wife, was unbearable. He couldn't imagine feeling such pain for a day, much less for months on end.

  I have to stop her!

  At last he was half a block away from the house. It was still a little too early for oil lamps to be lit, and though smoke rose from their chimney, the wood that burned could have been laid in the woodstove over an hour before.

  Certainty flooded him…he was too late. He knew it. Too late…

  He ripped open the gate and dashed up the sidewalk, bursting through the front door, anticipating a cold, empty house, sure that his Mollie was gone.

  But she wasn’t.

  Her head whipped toward him as she stood, framed by the doorway that led into the kitchen, nearly dropping the plates in her hand as she gasped in surprise. “Noah! You’re home! I was just setting the table. I know how much it bothers you when I’m late—”

  He crossed the room in only a few steps, walking into the kitchen and taking her into his arms. “Don’t ever leave me!” he begged, whispering into her hair as he crushed her to him, kissing the top of her head. “No matter what, no matter how much of a fool I am, no matter how much we argue. Don’t ever doubt that I love you, and don’t ever leave me.”

  “You…love me?” Her lips trembled, and tears shone in her eyes.

  He grasped her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “I love you more than anything in this world. I don’t care about my reputation or the mistakes you’ve made. I’ve loved you almost since the day we married, and I’ll love you as long as I love. So don’t you get spooked and run off, you hear?”

  She set the plates on the table with a rattling clatter, then her arms stole timidly around his waist, hugging him close. “I won’t. I promise. Where would I go? I love you, Noah. I want to spend the rest of my life here, with you.”

  Squeezing her even tighter, he leaned down to tenderly kiss her on the lips. Then he let her go with great reluctance. “You do?”

  She nodded, blinking back tears.

  “But what about Nell? The Demings won’t let her go. How can you live here in the same town, knowing you can’t see her?” He didn’t want to voice his greatest fear—that her love for her child would motivate her to do something rash, like stealing Nell back and going into hiding.

  “I don’t think Mr. Deming will stay here, especially not when he finds out I’m out of jail. He’ll either have me locked up for sure, or he’ll move the family back to Boston. Maybe both.”

  “We’ll fight it. I won’t let you go to jail simply for trying to see your own daughter.”

  “I was told it’s a minor charge, so it wouldn’t be for long, anyway. But it would give him ample time to move away—perhaps to a new city altogether. Time enough for them to move and settle down, without any chance of me tracking them.”

  “Mollie…I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair. I wasn’t being fair. I was hurt, and I lashed out at you. None of this is your fault—”

  “My actions and my choices are my fault. The rest might not be, but I have to take responsibility for the things I’ve done. But I swear, I never meant to hurt you. Even before I loved you, I had sworn to myself that I would make you happy. That I’d make myself worthy of being loved by you.”

  “Mollie! You’ve always been worthy. A few mistakes don’t change that. I love you because of who you are. Exactly how you are. You’ve lived a difficult life, and if you made one or two bad choices along the way…who am I to judge you? I’ve had it easy—just ask my mother.”

  She giggled. “Your mother does like things to go smoothly for you.”

  “I suspect that may have come to an end. She wants me to toughen up some.”

  “You’re plenty tough when you need to be,” she smiled coyly, poking him in the chest.

  He grinned, enjoying the teasing. Then he sighed, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “How are you going to cope if the Demings take Nell away?”

  Mollie shifted her gaze, tears springing to her eyes again. �
�I don’t know. I’ll…just have to, I suppose. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “If you want me to fight for her, I will. She’s your daughter. Our daughter, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Thank you for that,” she whispered, patting him on the chest. “It means more than you’ll ever know. But we can’t do that. I can’t do that to Nell. Or to the Demings. They are just as much the victims in this as I am, and as Nell is. I can’t cause them the same kind of pain that I’m going through. I’d be tearing Nell away from her home. I couldn’t wreak that kind of havoc on her. I’d die first.”

  “You’re a good mother,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head again. “Alright. If that’s what you want, we’ll leave her be. And who knows? Maybe somehow you’ll cross paths with her again. You know her adopted name. You might even be able to track her down when she’s an adult. She’ll want to know more about you by then.”

  “Maybe,” she said, leaning into him and nestling against his chest. He heard her struggling against the tears that wanted to flow. “Or maybe it would be best to just let her lead the happiest life that she can. For all I know, they might never tell her about me. How could I just saunter into her life and turn it upside down, not knowing if she knows about me or wants to meet me?”

  Noah sighed, feeling powerless. He’d give anything to take away her pain—even the smallest bit of it. Instead, he had to stand by and watch her suffer on and on, for the good of her daughter. It wasn’t right. “Whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll always be here for you.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, clutching at his lapel with one hand. “I honestly don’t know how I’d go on without Nell, if I didn’t have you.”

  “Oh, you’d find a way,” he murmured, remembering his mother’s words. “You’re a strong woman, Mollie Jamison. You’ll always find a way to go on.”

  Chapter 26

  Monday, March 9, 1891

  Noah had spent the last few days watching the light fade from Mollie’s eyes. She pasted on a smile, but the smile never reached those beautiful blue eyes. He knew she was putting on a brave face, but inside the loss of her daughter was eating away at her.

  He hoped to lift her spirits in some small way, so he’d asked his mother to watch the shop while he went to look for a gift for Mollie.

  The days were finally warming up, with the sun peeking through the clouds a bit more each day. The worst of the ice on the streets and sidewalks had mostly disappeared, but the ruts in the road were still hardened with frost for all but the warmest hours of the day. But it wouldn’t be long before the Main Street turned to mud, as it did every spring thaw.

  Noah was so occupied trying to decide which shop he should try first that he almost bumped right into Clay Porter, who was spreading rock salt on the last bit of ice in front of the butcher shop.

  “Hey there, Noah, where’s the fire?”

  “Huh? Oh, hey there, Clay. Just have a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

  “I heard.” Clay lowered his voice. “Word spreads fast around here. Sorry for your wife’s troubles.”

  Noah knew he was referring to Mollie’s arrest. More than one woman had come into the shop, trying to fish for information. His mother had skillfully changed the subject each time, and shamed the women into buying something, rather than admit they were shopping more for gossip than for material goods. Fortunately, he could always count on men to keep their curiosity under their hat, and talk about the weather.

  As if on cue, Clay looked up at the sky. “Nice to finally see the sun, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is. I’m eager for spring. Then I can take Mollie out and show her all of Helena. Maybe have a picnic or take a ride out across the valley.”

  “She’ll love that. It’s one of Madeline’s—”

  The sound of loud voices interrupted them.

  “What’s that?” Noah asked, looking around. At first he couldn’t identify where the voices were coming from. Then he looked over his shoulder and realized they were coming from the saloon across the street and a few doors down. A wagon parked out front kept him from seeing the two people involved in the argument.

  “Darn saloon, again,” Clay muttered. “I wish the town would put in a stronger zoning law, and try to keep those places on the south end of Main. I hate that there is so much ruckus right across the street from where my children live.”

  “Makes me glad I bought a house away from the shop.”

  “Believe me, I’m thinking you were very smart with that decision. It’s not bad most of the time, but all it takes is one drunk trying to start trouble.”

  The door opened to the butcher shop and Madeline stepped out, shivering in the chilly air. “What’s all the noise about? Is it the saloon again?”

  “Yep.” Clay nodded, craning his head. “Can’t see much from here. It sounds like one of them is a woman.”

  “It is.” Madeline raised up on her tiptoes. “I think that’s Sadie Morgan’s hat I’m seeing over the wagon.”

  “Again? Didn’t she just have a loud argument outside the saloon last week, when they asked her to leave?”

  Madeline pursed her lips. “What is that woman thinking, going into a saloon, much less getting drunk in public? I’m glad Jake and Lilly are away, and not forced to witness this. If only she’d go back to Billings.”

  “Not likely, now that her beau—or whatever you want to call him—has jilted her.”

  “She should have seen that coming. But turning to drink won’t solve her problems.”

  “It’s getting a little loud over there,” Noah said, becoming concerned. “Do you think she’s alright?”

  “It’s probably just the barkeep, making her leave,” Clay said. “This isn’t the first scene she’s caused—”

  Madeline stepped to the side, peering at the spectacle. “Clay!” she gasped. Her face had gone pale, and she reached out for her husband, trembling.

  “What?” Clay grasped her arm with a steadying hand.

  “It’s Samuel Croft!”

  Clay moved so fast, everything was a blur to Noah.

  “Lock the door,” he said, dragging Madeline toward the shop, “get the children upstairs, and don’t come outside, no matter what.”

  “No, come inside with me—” she clutched at his sleeve.

  “I’m not leaving any woman to face that man alone,” Clay disentangled his arm, and opened the shop door, pushing her inside. “Now go! And have Herman telephone the police.” He pushed the door shut, ignoring her protests. After a moment, she complied with her husband’s orders, and the lock clicked into place.

  Noah didn’t know why Madeline Porter seemed so afraid, but he himself could hear the tone of the argument across the street taking a turn for the worse. The woman wasn’t being ejected from the saloon. Something more sinister was afoot.

  He stepped off the curb, crossing the street with a mere glance at the oncoming wagons.

  “Wait for me!” Clay called. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. He’s probably armed.”

  “That mean you’re going to stand by and do nothing?” Noah asked, without stopping. As they came around the wagon, he could see a woman yelling at a man to let her go. Her arm was being held fast by a short, heavy-set, scraggly looking man, about twenty years her senior.

  “Hell no,” Clay snapped. “But we need to—”

  “Croft!”

  Both men were startled, stopping in their tracks beside the wagon that had blocked their view of the saloon. A voice had erupted, loud and angry, over the din of the city street.

  “Let her go. Now!”

  Noah took a step forward, coming around the wagon, and saw the man who had called out. He stood just to the right, past the saloon—legs slightly apart, and his hand ready to draw his pistol. He was dressed like a farmer, with dark hair that was greying at the temples.

  Croft whirled at the man’s orders, his hand still gripping the woman’s arm. Both he and the woman—Sadie—were dru
nk. But her eyes were filled with terror, and his sparkled with malice.

  “Don’t know who ya are, but mind yer own business, before you live to regret it,” Croft snarled.

  “You’ve manhandled enough women. I won’t let you harm another.”

  Croft barked out a laugh. “Oh? Well then, you must have an urgent desire to die, my friend. You think you’ve got the upper hand, but there’s a saloon full of my ranch hands in there, and you’ll be dead before your pistol leaves the holster.”

  “Today’s as good a day as any to die,” the man announced, his face impassive. “As long as I take your rotten hide down with me.”

  Croft laughed again, pulling Sadie to his side. “Go home, man, before ya do something you’ll regret.”

  “I’ve already done something I regret. I let my daughter come work for you.”

  Croft’s face went slack as something sparked in his memory.

  Noah stepped forward to take advantage of Croft’s distraction, but Clay held him back. Then everything happened at once.

  Croft drew his weapon first. Despite being drunk, the man must have been keen with a firearm, because he got off a shot before the other man had his pistol in hand. It did him no good—the shot went wild—and then the other man returned fire. In a flash, Sadie stood alone, screaming. Croft had released his hold on her, staggering back and crumpling to the ground, pistol still in his hand.

  More screams erupted around them as the people on the street around them reacted to the shots. Men grabbed their wives, while women pulled their children close and shielded them. Others ducked into doorways and behind wagons.

  A small crowd that had gathered several doors down from the saloon curled in on itself, screams and cries punctuated by loud voices.

  Noah and Clay ran toward Croft. Noah got there first, mashing his boot down onto Croft’s hand, pinning the pistol to the ground. Clay bent down to wrench it from the man, and tucked it into the back of his waistband.