A Mail-Order Christmas Bride

by Livia J. Washburn

  The station owner’s grin spread, splitting his face. He thumped Rocky’s back. “Well, by golly, congratulations! You gonna introduce me to the new missus? Aw, heck, I’ll introduce myself.” He put his big paw out to Melanie and shook hers carefully. “I’m Silas Marlow, owner of this here station.”

  “Melanie duBois, Mr. Marlow. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Don’t you mean Melanie Taylor?” He quirked a gray brow at her.

  “Oh, yes…silly of me—”

  “Well, come on up to the fire, Mrs. Taylor, and get yourself warmed up. Saw that fine coach and team drivin’ in and never dreamed—” He broke off and scratched his head. “Rock, what’re you doin’ drivin’ a rig like that, anyhow?”

  “I couldn’t ask my bride to ride sidesaddle all the way from Ft. Smith, now, could I?” Rocky forced a jovial note into his words. Watching Melanie, he could see how much this hurt. If things had fallen into place as they should have, he would not be lying—she would truly have been his bride. A bride he’d known nothing about before yesterday.

  At the very least, he should’ve come up with a plan they both agreed to—a presentation to the world that they’d both been aware of. Too late for that, now. All her hopes, dreams, and plans for a future with Deputy Marshal Rocky Taylor had died yesterday when he’d told her the truth—and here he was, asking her to resurrect them and pretend again.

  “Why, hell—uh, heck—no. You sure couldn’t do that! Too hard on a lady to spend them long hours in the saddle. I bet y’all are hungry as two bears. Let me git in there and rustle up some food. Rocky, go on up to the fire with the little woman and get thawed out. It’s cold as blue hell out there! Uh…pardon me, ma’am.”

  As Silas shuffled off to the kitchen, Rocky walked toward where Melanie stood with outstretched hands, soaking up the warmth of the blaze.

  She didn’t look at him as he came to stand beside her.

  “Feels good to stretch my legs,” he murmured, casting a quick glance her way. She continued to stare into the fire.

  Rocky sighed. “I had to tell him that for your own protection, Melanie. I don’t want you to worry…I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then quickly returned her stare to the fire.

  “I want you to know, you’re safe with me.” Dammit, why hadn’t he just left her in Ft. Smith? The way she was acting, she’d have been happier with him completely out of the picture…

  Then, she turned toward him, and he could see tears shimmering in the firelight in her blue, blue eyes. He pulled her to him and she came into his arms.

  For a brief instant, their eyes met, and he saw all the yearning and pent-up desire Melanie carried in her heart—for him. Before, he had only been some stranger who had, supposedly, asked her to give up everything and come west. And she had done it on faith…only to discover that the promises that had been made were empty, and that he’d never written those letters in the first place.

  He thought of Mike Ferguson, laughing it up in his cell, and for the millionth time, wondered why Mike had been a party to this. But then, Melanie’s lips pressed next to his softly, in uncertain questioning, and his answer was swift and sure.

  The whisper-soft touch of her lips unleashed desire in him he’d tried to push to the back of his mind ever since he and Eleanor had divorced. Now, he could tamp it down no longer.

  Melanie’s inexperience was inflaming to him; her sweet naïvete a pure contrast to his jaded spirit. She let him take control of the kiss she had initiated, and it made him hungry for more.

  Her mouth opened under his, her fingertips moving to his cheek, stroking his skin with a gentle caress. A sweet touch he didn’t think he could ever get enough of.

  Behind them, Silas entered the room, the dishes rattling. “That’s the way newlyweds all are,” he announced as he set two steaming bowls of chili on one of the long trestle tables. “Y’all can’t keep yore hands off’n each other for two minutes.”

  At the sound of the old man’s voice, Rocky slowly lifted his mouth from Melanie’s. She had not jerked away from him in embarrassment. She’d kissed him long and hard and hot—and if Silas hadn’t come back in when he had, there was no telling where that kiss might have led.

  Thinking about it gave Rocky a shot of hope for the future he’d never thought he’d have again. Eleanor had made a fool of him—she’d taken his love and trust and dragged it through the mud before she’d walked out on him. Jessaree had done her damnedest to make herself available at every turn. Though he’d known Jessaree for a long time, he had a feeling that, should he fall prey to her advances, history would repeat itself if he offered marriage.

  Was that what made him believe he “wasn’t the marrying type”?

  As Melanie duBois gazed up trustingly into his face with a secret smile only for him, he tried to slow his hammering heart. He was beginning to believe he’d told himself the biggest lie ever.

  Maybe he was the marrying kind, after all.

  ****

  “Sure you won’t stay the night here?” Silas asked as Rocky handed Melanie into the carriage again.

  They’d eaten and given their horses a rest before having to start out in the cold afternoon once more.

  Melanie smiled at Silas. “We’re headed home for Christmas,” she said. “It smells like snow is in the air.”

  “That, it does,” Silas agreed. He gave her a nod. “Sure was good to meet you, Mrs. Taylor.” He leaned close, conspiratorially. “Now, you take care of this one, here,” he said with a nod in Rocky’s direction. “He’s a awful good man.”

  Melanie forced herself to smile in return. “Yes…I know.”

  Rocky glanced up at her in surprise. She turned her smile his way, and he returned it.

  “Better get on, then,” Silas said, stepping away from the door so Rocky could close it. Melanie gave the old man one last wave before Rocky slammed the door, shutting out the cold.

  In a moment, the carriage shifted, and Rocky called out a farewell to Silas as he set the team in motion and they headed west once more.

  By the time the evening shadows began to fall, another stage station was only a few miles ahead, and Melanie was looking forward to another hearty meal and a bed.

  How long had it been since she’d slept all night through in deep, restful slumber? She couldn’t remember it. Not since Mama had re-married Stuart Whitworth. Years of sleeping with one eye open and an ear to the ground. She shuddered.

  Would she ever feel safe again? Oh, yes. She’d felt perfectly safe enclosed in the fortress of Rocky’s arms earlier when she’d so brazenly kissed him. Why had she done it? And what must he think of her?

  She must be prepared for anything, now. Even knowing he had not been the one who had sent for her, she had thrown herself at him. Kissed him!

  A delicious shiver and warmth wound its way through her. He had kissed her right back, too. Most thoroughly. And…it seemed like he’d meant it—not like he’d just been taken off guard. She shook her head at her own forwardness.

  He had kissed her back. And it seemed as if he’d enjoyed it—it hadn’t been an obligation. She’d felt his reluctance to let her go when Silas had come back with their food.

  Somehow, she would have to make her own way in this world…but could she dare to hope there might be a future with Deputy Marshal Rockford Taylor after all?

  He had invited her to come home with him for Christmas—and Christmas, it was said, was a time for miracles.

  She bowed her head. Please, God. Grant me a small one. Just this once, let something go right.

  ****

  Well, it was bound to come to this. He couldn’t very well go around announcing that Melanie was his new bride and expect for them to sleep in separate beds, could he?

  And that was just what had happened at the station where they’d be spending the night.

  Rocky watched Melanie’s face at the inevitable moment when Erik Helstrom, the
station owner, had jovially boomed, “And as for our special suite—that will go to our newlyweds, Deputy Marshal Rockford Taylor and his beautiful blushing bride, Miss Melanie!” The other guests had clapped and laughed, calling out their well-wishes.

  Melanie had smiled in return, blushing, and reached for Rocky’s hand—oddly enough, at the same instant he’d moved to take hers.

  They’d followed Erik down the hallway to the last room on the right. The “honeymoon suite”, as Erik laughingly called it, was not fancy. It was marginally larger than the other rooms, with a spacious bed.

  Erik made a show out of patting the mattress and waggled his eyebrows at Rocky.

  Rocky ignored Erik’s antics and the station owner sobered, directing his stablehand, John, to set Melanie’s trunk against the wall before the young man left to fetch Rocky’s saddlebags.

  “I’ll let you two lovebirds alone, now.” Erik gave a low chuckle. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour, if you don’t get busy and forget all about eating.”

  Rocky raised a brow in warning.

  “Uh…no disrespect intended, ma’am,” Erik muttered hastily as he reached to close the door behind him.

  They were both silent for the space of a heartbeat, and then Rocky turned to look in Melanie’s direction.

  She stood uncertainly, watching him.

  “I—there was no choice about a room—” he began.

  Melanie shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I understand.” She took a step toward him.

  “There’s just one bed—”

  “We can share the—”

  They both began talking at once, then stopped. Melanie smiled.

  “I trust you,” she murmured.

  Rocky put his hand out to her and she stepped toward him until they stood close.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he breathed, thinking of the earlier kiss they’d shared, trying to still the sudden acceleration of his heart.

  She put her arms around him and he slowly pulled her to his chest. Could she feel his heart racing? Or was that her heart?

  He smiled as she laid her head next to his cheek. She was tall, for a woman. He liked that. It made for easier dancing…kissing…lovemaking.

  “Melanie—I’m not sure what this night will hold for us—what this…journey…will hold.”

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it?” She drew away from him, looking up at him with shining eyes. “I feel safe with you, Rocky,” she confessed. “And—I want to thank you for inviting me to come home with you for Christmas. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t—” She broke off, looking down.

  “Aw, Mel...you do me the honor, lady. You’re gonna brighten up my Christmas better’n any lighted tree ever could.”

  Her tears started, then, and Rocky hugged her close. “Shh…I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

  “It’s not you—it’s everything.”

  “Tell me?” He smoothed back a strand of her hair, then lifted her chin. “You said you feel safe with me. Safe from what?”

  “My—my stepfather. He had—plans for me.”

  Rocky’s breath hissed inward at her meaning.

  “He had my mother institutionalized…then—she died under suspicious circumstances.”

  Rocky’s eyes narrowed. “You think he had her killed?”

  Melanie nodded. “Yes. I’m sure of it. Of course, I have no proof, but—she died only two weeks after he had her committed. I wasn’t permitted to visit her. After she died, he had her buried with no funeral.”

  “And you think he’s after you?”

  She nodded, looking down. “I accepted this marriage offer because I was desperate.” Melanie walked to the bed and sat down. “A friend showed me the ad, and I answered it. Not long after, I received a response, and we—whoever was pretending to be you—corresponded for a few weeks.”

  “To leave everything…to take a chance on a man you didn’t know—”

  “Oh, but I thought I did.” She raised her gaze to his. “I had your picture, so I knew what you looked like. And your letters—his letters, whoever he was—were so kind and caring. He was what I needed. A safe haven to run to.”

  “What kinds of things did he write in his letters? Any details of my life?” It didn’t figure that Mike Ferguson would have come up with this as a practical joke. Was he in on it alone? Mike was stubborn—Rocky had thought to let him cool his heels in jail for a few days before he went back for more answers, because when he’d left Mike’s cell with the picture, he’d known there’d be no more forthcoming from the stubborn cuss on that particular day.

  Melanie’s smooth brow wrinkled in thought. “Stories of arrests you’d made…chasing criminals. Mention of Kevin and Maria and their new baby.”

  “Did he mention any names of the criminals I caught?”

  “Oh…no. I’m sorry, but he didn’t. But, I would say it is someone who knows you. Knows what kind of man you are…some personal details…”

  Rocky rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Would you…allow me to read the letters, Melanie?”

  She lowered her head, humiliation seeming to wilt her like a flower on a hot summer day. “I—I suppose. If you think It might help figure out who did this. And why.”

  “I think I have an idea—”

  Just then, there came a knock at the door, and Rocky opened it to allow John inside with his saddlebags.

  “Thanks, John.’

  The young man nodded. “Where do you want these?”

  Rocky pointed out a place, and John set the saddlebags down, then headed for the door once more. “Dinner’s on.”

  “We’ll be there shortly. Thanks.”

  John shut the door behind him, and Rocky retraced his steps to where Melanie still sat on the bed. He held his hand out to her.

  “Let’s go eat. You’ll feel better then, and maybe we can…look at those letters afterward.” She didn’t ask about what he’d been going to say before they were interrupted, and for the time being, he decided it might be wise to keep his own counsel.

  ****

  The eating area was packed. Melanie was glad for Rocky’s steady presence beside her as they entered and Erik motioned for them to come to the far side of one of the tables where he stood. Two empty seats awaited, and he pulled the chairs out for them to be seated.

  “Business is doing well,” Rocky commented, looking around the room.

  “Yes. I’m not sure where everyone will sleep.” Erik was unruffled. “We’ll figure it out. This happens sometimes when we feel snow in the air—and with people in a hurry to get home for Christmas. It didn’t help that one of the later runs had a coach with an axle they were limping in on. Gotta be fixed tomorrow.”

  Melanie took her seat across the table from a man wearing a cleric’s collar.

  “This preacher-man is goin’ the same way y’all are,” Erik said. He turned to the cleric. “These two lovebirds just tied the knot. They probably won’t even know you’re here.”

  “Good evening,” the man said, as Erik walked away.

  “Good evening,” Melanie answered.

  “I’m Reverend Ben Townsend.”

  “I’m Melanie…Taylor.”

  “Rocky Taylor, Reverend.” Rocky put out his hand across the table and the two men shook.

  The reverend nodded at Rocky’s badge. “Lawman, I see.”

  “Yes, sir. On our way home for Christmas.”

  The preacher gave Rocky a measuring stare. “Just left Ft. Smith, I take it?” At Rocky’s nod, he said, “Guess you were married there.”

  Melanie sensed Rocky’s tension.

  “No,” Rocky answered. “Sallisaw.”

  The preacher slowly laid his fork down. “When did you say your vows?”

  Rocky’s eyes narrowed. Melanie was glad for the diversion when their food arrived and the conversation stopped temporarily.

  “This looks delicious. Thank you.” Melanie glanced up at the woman who had just delivere
d their meals.

  “Be back in a jiffy with your drinks,” the woman said with a friendly smile.

  Once she’d gone, Rocky said quietly, “Why are you so interested in our wedding, Reverend?”

  The preacher opened his napkin and spread it over his lap. “I rode in a stagecoach for the past couple of days with a very odd man. Rather frightening, really.”

  “How so?”

  Cold dread crept up Melanie’s back. Could it be her stepfather had discovered her destination? It wouldn’t have been difficult, she realized. He could have intercepted her correspondence and steamed the letters open…then re-sealed them.

  “He spoke of a young woman who was on her way here to marry someone. A ‘grave mistake on her part’, he called it.” The reverend took a bite of his cornbread.

  Rocky and Melanie both remained silent.

  “The woman he talked about fit your description, Mrs. Taylor.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Truthfully, I got the feeling the young woman he was describing was running away from something. And after listening to his ravings…well, I can understand.”

  “Takes all kinds,” Rocky said dismissively.

  “Yes. But I can assure you, there have been no weddings in Sallisaw this past week.”

  Rocky stopped eating, laying his fork on his plate. “How do you know that?”

  The reverend smiled. “I’m the circuit preacher there. The only one. I would know.”

  The two men stared at one another until Melanie finally blurted, “It’s true—we aren’t really…married.”

  “I thought as much,” Reverend Townsend stated softly. “I can perform a nice quiet ceremony right here, tonight, if you like.”

  “No—”

  “Yes—”

  Surprised, Melanie looked at Rocky. “I don’t want to force—”

  He interrupted, turning quickly to face her. “Mel, you’re in some danger here, from what the reverend is saying. Let me protect you. You’re in this mess because—”

  “Don’t say it.” She put a staying hand on his arm. “You had nothing to do with this. This is all someone else’s fabrication. Why should you have to pay for it? Take part in a marriage of convenience?”

  “Look, let me do what I can. If—if you don’t like being married—we can get an annulment once the danger’s past.”