The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West

by Wanda E. Brunstetter, Susan Page Davis, Melanie Dobson, Cathy Liggett, Vickie McDonough, Olivia Newport, Janet Spaeth, Jennifer Rogers Spinola

“Papa says I am not very good at hurrying.” Eloise fumbled with fastening the flap.

  Gerald had that much right, and perhaps it explained the choice he made to send Hayden a note rather than take his daughter wherever he had gone in such a hurry himself. Finally, Eloise was bundled up and walked with a hand in Hayden’s overcoat pocket while he carried both their bags.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the newsboy hurtled in from the cold. “I couldn’t deliver your second note, sir.”

  “Which one?”

  “To the lady.”

  “Why not? The address was clear.”

  “The lady is gone,” the boy said. “Madam wouldn’t say where she went. Said to tell you it was between the two of you.”

  Hayden rolled his head back and sighed at the ceiling. First Gerald, now Belinda. He pulled out his pocket watch, though he knew what it would say. He didn’t have time to guess where Belinda might have gone.

  For a fleeting moment, Belinda thought about doing the math. How many cars on the train multiplied by how many passenger seats? The cars to Cheyenne would all be day cars. Going west on the Union Pacific from there, some of the cars would have sleeping berths—she had one reserved—while in others passengers would sleep as well as they could manage in upright seats. The line of cars snaked far enough that Belinda lost interest in the calculation. It was enough to imagine that even with transfers and meal stops, and subtracting out mail cars and baggage cars, one could journey a great distance and see only a small portion of the fellow travelers aboard.

  Belinda had given her trunk to a porter when she first arrived at the station that morning and trusted that it would be securely stowed in one of the baggage cars and safely transferred to the second train. The bag she carried held a change of blouse, a nightdress, a towel, a book, and a few personal items. Once the passengers leaving the train in Denver had disembarked, railroad employees began indicating that new passengers could board.

  As she settled into her seat, the first of the snowflakes drifted by the window. Belinda was rather fond of snow. Its appearance was so unpredictable in Denver that she enjoyed the surprise whenever the ground began to whiten. The railroads boasted that their engines could pull trains through even the severest weather. Belinda supposed that schedules might be delayed occasionally, but it was hard to see how the kind of snowfalls she had observed in the last several years in Denver would hamper the powerful engines that rolled on the tracks laid through Colorado.

  Just for a moment, Belinda removed her hat and pressed her forehead against the glass to watch the dance of snowflakes swirling on the rising wind. If all she did between Denver and San Francisco was watch the snow, she would be content. She would arrive at Vanessa’s with a clear mind and a quieted soul.

  Hayden glanced down at Eloise’s feet. In his effort not to seem as impatient as he felt, he had not been particular about the way she buttoned the flaps onto her shoes. With each step, they made a sound he found increasingly disconcerting. As little as he knew about little girls’ footwear, though, he wasn’t sure he could have done better himself even if he had taken twice as long.

  “Are your feet warm enough?” he asked.

  Eloise nodded, the brim of her brown wool hat bobbing with the motion. “Yes, sir.”

  “Do your feet get wet when it snows?”

  “No, sir.”

  Hayden was glad to hear that, though he hoped they wouldn’t be out in the snow long enough for it to matter. He raised his hand for a passing cab, but the driver shook his head, indicating he already had a fare. Hayden glanced around and decided he would have better luck at the next corner.

  “Are we going to Aunty’s house, sir?”

  Hayden wished he had a better plan, but he could hardly try to place the child with someone else—someone he didn’t know—when Gerald had trusted him.

  “We will not get there today,” he said, “but we will start an adventure. How does that sound?”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Hayden realized her feet were spinning quickly trying to match his pace while keeping her hand tucked in his pocket. He slowed down.

  “Since we’re going to be on a journey together,” he said, “why don’t you call me Uncle Hayden instead of sir?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They would have to work on that.

  A horse trotted past them, and the wheels of the carriage it pulled threw slush at them.

  “My coat!” Eloise removed her hand from Hayden’s pocket.

  He turned to see her struggling not to give in to tears. Reaching under his overcoat, he extracted a handkerchief before setting down the bags and stooping in front of her to dab at the moisture. Horses’ hooves and wheels in the street did not take long to soil fresh snow, and the splotch that had landed on her chest was half mud.

  “We’ll clean it up. I promise.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  “You’re being very brave. I’ll tell you what. I’ll carry the bags in one arm and you in the other. If any more carriages come by, I’ll be sure to turn away so your coat won’t be soiled. How does that sound?”

  She nodded but didn’t meet his eyes.

  He would have carried her anyway. It was their only chance of being on time.

  Chapter 3

  At the sound of the whistle, Belinda sank back in her seat. Around her the car had filled up while the snow mesmerized her, but the whistle meant that anyone intending to depart with the train should be aboard.

  Belinda smiled at the middle-aged couple sitting across from her. The woman rested a hand in the crook of the man’s arm and laid her head on his shoulder. He turned his head and glanced down at her. Envy shot through Belinda. She had always imagined she and Hayden would be like that twenty or thirty years from now. Comfortable, tender, content. Now she didn’t know what to think.

  “It’s a lovely day to travel.” The woman caught Belinda’s eye. “The sun and the snow are so beautiful.”

  “I’ve been admiring the day for quite some time,” Belinda answered pleasantly. “The sky does seem to be clouding over though.”

  “The snow may continue in Denver,” the man said, “but we’ll be long gone.”

  “We are the Barrows,” the woman said. “Amanda and Ellsworth.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you. I am Belinda Michaels.”

  “Are you traveling alone?” Ellsworth raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” Belinda infused her tone with brightness. “I’m going to spend Christmas with my cousin in San Francisco. And you?”

  “We are only going to Ogden to our daughter’s,” Amanda said. “We have a new grandchild.”

  “After we change trains, that still gives us the whole of Wyoming to share the journey.”

  The train lurched in response to the brakeman’s pull on the release. The whistle spurted its last warning and the train began to move, gradually gaining speed and finding the rhythm of moving parts collaborating to produce steady motion. A few more minutes of chatting with the Barrows yielded to companionable silence. When Amanda opened a magazine, Belinda reached for her book. The train stopped intermittently along the northbound route, and Belinda watched the exchange of passengers at the series of stations. The car took on additional riders who arranged themselves, as she had, to be as comfortable as possible. Eventually, though, she had to admit that a cramp was creeping up her calf and only a walk would work it out. Leaving her warm wrap but taking a shawl, she walked forward in the train through one car and then another. A porter held the doors as she stepped from one platform to the next.

  Now that she was up and about, Belinda craved a cup of tea and wondered how long it would be before the train stopped to take on water or coal and whether there would be time to sit down and enjoy some refreshment. Newspaper accounts of rail travel lauded the dining cars—but only east of Omaha. Westward travelers had to plan their own menus. Belinda had a small tin of sandwiches and a bag of apples but planned to rely for most of her meals on
the restaurants that served travelers in the small towns along the rail routes.

  Belinda made her way up the aisle of a car. The little girl caught her attention because of the bright red-and-white plaid dress she wore. Black velvet cording trimmed the panels, and Belinda found the effect quite festive, particularly for train travel just before Christmas.

  The girl sat alone across the aisle from a woman who could well be her great-grandmother. They glanced at each other a few times but didn’t speak. Belinda wasn’t persuaded they truly were traveling together—but surely the girl was not alone. Even the orphan trains carried chaperones for the children.

  Hayden was at a loss to know what to feed the girl. In the morning rush, he had stopped for a half dozen rolls to take on the train. The elderly woman across the aisle seemed to be far better prepared, but no doubt she had been planning her journey for more than just the last twelve hours. Eloise already had accepted two cookies from Mrs. Stromberg, who seemed quite eager to play the role of doting grandparent. Once she discovered the delightful little girl sitting nearby, Mrs. Stromberg introduced herself, produced her stash of cookies, and suggested that the young woman traveling with her—a paid companion, it seemed to Hayden—might like to move about the train while the opportunity presented itself. Leaving Eloise in Mrs. Stromberg’s casual supervision, Hayden got up to seek information he had not had time to assemble before boarding the train.

  The conductor in the car forward of Hayden’s seats punched tickets gruffly, but Hayden was undaunted by his demeanor.

  “I wonder if you can answer my questions about meal stops,” he said.

  “First one is Cheyenne,” came the reply. “Plenty of time there.”

  “I’m escorting a little girl on this journey. Are the restaurants along the railroads going west suitable for a child?”

  The conductor shrugged. “I suppose that depends on how hungry the child is.”

  “Thank you.” Hayden was being polite, which was more than he could say about the conductor. He was going to offer Eloise a roll soon and perhaps insist that she eat it before consuming any more sweets. He suspected sugar cookies were not the extent of Mrs. Stromberg’s selections.

  He turned to go back to his seat.

  “My goodness, what a pretty dress.” Belinda grinned at the girl as she approached. On the one hand, it was none of her business who was looking after the child. On the other hand, whoever it was had not made a convincing effort with the girl’s hair—another reason Belinda did not think the older woman was ultimately in charge of the child. The woman was too tidy herself to suggest she would have left the girl’s hair in such a state.

  The child beamed and swung her feet in the empty space between the bench and the floor. “My papa had it made for me. I have three other dresses, but I am nearly too tall for them.”

  Belinda saw the cookie in the child’s fingers now. “And you have a treat as well. What a lucky little girl you are.”

  “The lady gave it to me.” The girl glanced across the aisle. “I can’t remember her name.”

  Belinda followed the gaze. The lady. She was right. They weren’t actually traveling together.

  “Mrs. Stromberg,” the woman supplied. “I’ve just met Eloise this morning, but I am sure we shall get along famously.”

  “I’m quite certain.” What little girl wouldn’t get along with an older woman with a tin of cookies? But who was escorting the child? Belinda offered a gloved hand, and Mrs. Stromberg took it. “I am Belinda Michaels.”

  “Are you sitting in our car, too?” Eloise hummed several random notes while she looked around.

  “No, I’m not, though if I had known such a pretty little girl would be here, I might have asked for a ticket in this car.” The child was enchanting, and Belinda imagined Eloise could be just the diversion she needed.

  “Uncle’s going to take me to Aunty’s house.” Eloise pulled on a curl.

  “Where does your aunt live?”

  Eloise sucked in her lips. “I forget.”

  “I believe your uncle mentioned it was San Francisco,” Mrs. Stromberg said.

  “Yes, San Francisco. That’s it. My papa is going to be there.”

  “Then it seems we shall be traveling all the way together,” Belinda said. “What is your destination, Mrs. Stromberg?”

  “San Francisco also. My home is there. I’ve been visiting dear friends in Denver.”

  “I’m going to visit my cousin in San Francisco,” Belinda said.

  “I don’t have any cousins. I don’t have a mama either.” The girl was matter of fact and took another bite of her cookie. “I wanted to ride in a car with a sleeping berth, but Uncle says he already bought tickets for regular seats. Have you got a sleeping berth, Miss Michaels?”

  “I will after we transfer to the Union Pacific in Cheyenne.”

  Eloise’s eyes widened. “Can I see it?”

  “I’ll tell you what. We’ll ask your uncle about that when he gets back. First we have to change trains, but we can make sure to find one another. And we can’t see the berth until the porter makes up the beds when it’s time to go to sleep.”

  “Oh! There’s Uncle now.”

  Eloise pointed over Belinda’s shoulder, and Belinda turned.

  Hayden Fairbanks moved quickly toward her.

  “Belinda! How did you know I would be on the train?” A glance at Eloise and Mrs. Stromberg provided Hayden the restraint required to keep from embracing Belinda in public. “I was told you didn’t receive my note.”

  Belinda straightened and held her hands stiffly folded together in front of her. “No, I did not receive a note.”

  “But you’re here. I don’t understand.”

  “I am on my way to spend Christmas with Vanessa.” Belinda balled her fists and moved her hands to her sides. “That you are here is merely a matter of coincidence.”

  “Or God’s good blessing that we found each other.” Hayden wanted to kiss her right there in the train aisle. “We might have traveled all the way to San Francisco and never realized we were on the same train.”

  “It will be a long train out of Cheyenne. I’m sure we need not run into each other again.”

  Her tone stung.

  “But you said you would show me your berth,” Eloise said. “You said we would be sure to find one another.”

  Hayden recognized the fluster that crossed Belinda’s face. “We’ll have to talk about that, Eloise.”

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Stromberg said, “it seems the lady and the gentleman have a previous acquaintance.”

  “Uncle,” Eloise said, “is Miss Michaels your friend?”

  Hayden met the girl’s large brown eyes and then turned to Belinda’s steely blue eyes. “Yes, she is. My best friend.”

  Was it his imagination, or did Belinda’s eyes soften?

  “There’s room for her to sit with us, isn’t there?” Eloise reached into the aisle for Belinda’s hand. “Please, Miss Michaels? Sit with us.”

  “Please do, Belinda,” Hayden echoed.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Belinda tugged on the hem of her traveling suit jacket.

  Hayden lowered his voice. “But it would give me a chance to explain what happened last night.”

  Her terse reply matched the drop in volume. “This child calls you ‘Uncle,’ but your only brother died of the flu when he was fourteen. You can’t manage to get to our engagement dinner, but you are taking a train across the country.”

  “That’s what I want to explain.” He took a step toward her.

  Belinda pressed her lips together and looked away. “I’m not interested. I only want a peaceful journey and a pleasant visit with my cousin.”

  Hayden bit back his words. Mrs. Stromberg had an amused expression on her face that perturbed him, and Eloise furrowed her brow in confusion. Others seated nearby had begun to turn their heads. Hayden didn’t want to make a scene.

  “Perhaps later,” he said.

  “Ah, here is my c
ompanion,” Mrs. Stromberg said.

  A young woman, not more than nineteen, pushed past Hayden and sat beside Mrs. Stromberg.

  “This is Virginia,” Mrs. Stromberg said.

  “I am pleased to meet you. I hope the journey finds you well.” Belinda shook the young woman’s hand and then pivoted and flounced down the aisle. A porter opened the door for her at the rear of the car.

  “Miss Michaels is going to have a berth,” Eloise informed Hayden. “I’m supposed to ask you if she can show it to me later. If she is your friend, why can’t I see it?”

  Belinda’s heart pounded.

  Hayden. On the train. With a child. All the way to San Francisco.

  Her imagination ran wild. Was this the first of a string of secrets he had kept from her? How much of his chronic tardiness could be explained by a part of his life he had chosen not to share with her, even though they had promised to have no secrets between them? Caught red-handed, he could hardly say that he didn’t wish to explain, but under the circumstances why should she believe any explanation he offered? There was no telling what he would have conjured had she taken the seat next to Eloise.

  Eloise what? Was her surname also Fairbanks?

  Belinda forced herself to slow her breathing and regain her composure by the time she reached her seat. Ellsworth and Amanda Barrow looked as content as they had when Belinda left them.

  Amanda raised her eyes from her magazine. “I imagine it is difficult to take much of a stroll on a moving train.”

  “I felt the need to stretch my legs for a few minutes.” Belinda settled back into her seat. “I feel much better for having done so.”

  Except that she did not. The cramp in her calf had released, but a vice squeezed her stomach, and every thought turned the bar tighter.

  She had behaved abominably. Hayden looked genuinely relieved to see her. Astonished but relieved. He didn’t look much like a man who was trying to dodge an awkward encounter. And he said something about a note she didn’t receive.

  Still. He promised to be at the restaurant last night, and he hadn’t come. He was well aware that she dreamed of that faultless intimate dinner with her parents before the holiday parties. He knew she wanted a perfect memory of that night, how eager she was to tell her friends about their coming nuptials, how badly she wanted to show him off, how much she wanted joy to overflow.