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

  Predictable. Boringly predictable.

  What he wouldn’t give for something to change. Anything.

  At the base of it all, he knew, was that he had to change first. But what was he to do? He was an accountant. He was a good accountant, but did it matter? Perhaps there was nothing to do but accept what he was, and to realize that whatever he was, he’d have to be it without Suzette.

  She was always on the move, energetic. Above all, she was funny. She could make him laugh, and that was a rare talent. He didn’t laugh easily, but around Suzette he found himself smiling, mainly secretly, but smiling nevertheless.

  She deserved someone like herself. A man who would live to his fullest, someone who could be everything she needed in life.

  It wasn’t him.

  Tears pricked at his eyes, but he willed them away. Men didn’t cry, even when their hearts were shattered.

  He took his Bible from the nightstand and opened it to where he had left off. Ah, Jeremiah, the weeping prophet. He moved forward in the book to chapter 29 and read the words that he had memorized as a child: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

  It was the verse of promise. God had a plan for Harrison Farrington. But did that mean that he was to float through life, like a leaf on a stream? He looked at the last line of the familiar passage: “And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

  That was it. He needed to look for God—and Suzette, and love. God would never leave him, but Suzette would be gone tomorrow. It was almost too much to bear.

  The next afternoon, Suzette stood with her parents at the station, waiting for the train. Her hurriedly packed trunk was at her feet, and a sturdy valise rested against her side.

  Papa told her to watch out for strangers, to guard her ticket, and to remember that a bank transfer was on its way to Fargo with enough money for a return trip home, as well as a liberal amount of money to contribute to Tom and Winnie’s household.

  Mama reminded her to mind her manners, even if it was the untamed Dakota Territory, to keep her hair tied neatly, and to always wear her bonnet to protect her face. She held on to Suzette’s arm as if she could hold her back in St. Paul.

  The sound of running footfalls echoed across the cavernous station. Suzette turned and saw Harrison. His usually neat clothing was disheveled, and his hair was no longer slicked into place. One strand fell over his forehead, and for a moment, she could imagine him on a horse, riding into the wild frontier.

  “Suzette,” he said, breathlessly. “I didn’t want you to leave before I told you …”

  His voice trailed off as he seemed to lack the words he needed.

  “Yes?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “I wanted to tell you, that is, I thought I should … you understand …” His words plummeted over each other in an incoherent jumble.

  His face was flushed—from running, or something else?

  “It’s just that—” He was interrupted by the blare of the train entering the station and drowning out the rest of his sentence.

  The stationmaster motioned her rail-side, and she looked once more quizzically at Harrison. “What?”

  He sighed. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

  Her father hugged her and kissed her forehead, and her mother wrapped her in an embrace moistened with tears.

  Impulsively, she opened her arms to Harrison. He reached for her, and as he held her to him, he murmured in her ear, “Suzette.”

  The time had come. She had to get on the train—and say farewell, for at least a while, to everything she’d known.

  Her life was just beginning.

  Hours later, Suzette sat next to the window, her nose pressed against the glass. A touch of early homesickness touched her, but she focused on the scene in front of her, pushing away the odd good-bye with Harrison.

  She sat up straighter. He was nothing to her, she told herself. Instead, her future was ahead of her. The prairie flew past as the train chugged its way to the Dakota Territory, and the wheels on the tracks seemed to say one word, again and again.

  Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.

  Chapter 2

  Suzette stood on the platform, her knees shaking from the long ride. All around her, people scurried, each one knowing his business. She, on the other hand, had no idea what to do.

  None of them looked like Tom. The other passengers disembarking were greeted by family and friends, and soon she was left quite alone with her bags.

  It would be all right, she assured herself. Tom would come and pick her up. Soon. He would be there soon.

  She looked around at her first vision of Fargo. It was much bigger than she’d expected. There were substantial, squat brick buildings, and the station itself was really quite lovely. Planters bloomed with late flowers, and small trees surrounded the little depot.

  She tugged her trunk closer to the bench that was provided, and she sank onto it.

  What if Tom didn’t come get her? What if she’d have to go into the station and right away buy a return trip ticket? Harrison would gladly come and get her. He always did the right thing, unlike her.

  She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. If necessary, she’d find a nearby hotel and put herself up for the night, and the next day she’d find employment. Doing what, she had no idea, but at least it was a plan.

  She shut her eyes for just a moment. She hadn’t slept at all the night before she left, and she’d only napped for brief periods on the train. She was so tired, and the late afternoon sun was so warm.

  “Suzette?”

  She sprang to her feet, which was a mistake, as her legs had completely gone to sleep. She tumbled right onto the man standing in front of her.

  Tom. She might not have recognized him if she hadn’t known he was coming for her. It had only been a bit over a year since she’d seen him last, at his wedding, but he had aged a decade. A set of wrinkles creased his forehead, and what her mother called “worry lines” wreathed around his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, giving her a quick hug and reaching for her trunk and bag. “The baby was so fussy, and Winnie …”

  His voice faded as he turned away. “Do you mind if we hurry on back? I don’t like to leave them alone.”

  She trailed after him to the wagon he’d pulled up near the depot. He deposited the trunk and her bag in the back and helped her onto the bench beside him.

  “How is Winnie doing?” she asked as he guided the wagon away from the station.

  “She’s doing fine.” His mouth was set in a narrow line. After a pause, he added, “Ah, who am I fooling? She’s doing the best she can, but the baby takes a lot of care. We’re both so glad you’ve come to help out.”

  Neither one of them spoke much, and they rode in uneasy silence out onto the prairie. The wind picked up, and she struggled to keep her bonnet on.

  “It’s always windy out here,” he said. “There’s nothing to stop it, and it gathers force as it heads across the open plains. It just blows and blows and blows, and the dust it carries seems to come right into the house.”

  As far as she could see, there was nothing except the occasional tree line. Tiny farmhouses dotted the landscape, most of them red. Small speckles moved across land, which was still green in the golden sunshine.

  Overhead there was nothing but sky. No towering oaks. No lofty buildings. No smoke plumes from factories.

  It was the clearest, purest blue sky she had ever laid eyes on. On the far horizon, three dollops of white hung suspended, distant clouds that held no threat of rain.

  She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  “I should tell you,” Tom said, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, “that Winnie doesn’t know I ask
ed for help.”

  She spun around in the seat, losing the battle to keep her bonnet on. The ties cut into her neck, and impatiently she untied the hat and stuffed it into her lap.

  “What do you mean? I thought—”

  He looked miserable. “She is so set on us doing this on our own that every time I broached the idea, she shot it down. But there’s Annylee. I’d do anything for her. And for Winnie. Maybe we could have managed on our own, but the way things are now …”

  His voice trailed off.

  “Does she know I’m coming?” Suzette’s throat, suddenly dry with fear, contracted.

  His face sagged. “She thinks you’re coming to see Annylee.” He paused. “Which you are, so that’s not exactly a lie.”

  “Not exactly a lie?”

  “I told her that you were coming for a visit and you wanted to see the baby.” He looked at her, clearly begging for her understanding. “All that’s true. You do want to see Annylee, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. But I’m not comfortable at all with some kind of charade about why I’m here, Tom. She doesn’t know that you contacted my father?”

  “No.”

  Suzette chewed on her lip. There was no way she was going to go along with this pretense. “Tom, I can’t. If you won’t tell her, I will.”

  He nodded. “I’m no good at keeping secrets anyway. Not even at Christmas.”

  “Christmas is a long time away, but this is different. Promise me you’ll tell her.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Meanwhile, tell me about how things are going. How did Winnie get injured?”

  “She fell.” He took a deep breath. “The house isn’t in the best of condition, to be honest. We’re just starting out, you know, and it’s sort of, well, ramshackle. I built it quickly, and it’s very different from what you’re used to. Not everything is done.”

  “I can understand that.” For the first time since she’d volunteered to go, she thought about what awaited her. In her mind, Tom and Winnie and Annylee lived in a charming little house, with flowers around the perimeter and productive fields surrounding the homestead.

  “We’re almost there. You’ll see.”

  She made some valiant—if unsatisfying—efforts at putting her hair to rights, but the wind that blew across the prairie undid it all. Her valise was at her feet, and she dug into it to find a clean handkerchief. She quickly scrubbed her face, trying to clear away the cinders from the train and the dust from the plains.

  He laughed. “After a while, you get to realizing that it’s useless. As long as the wind blows, which is daily, you’ll be a bit grimy.”

  Within minutes, he pulled up in front of their home. Suzette tried not to be horrified at what she saw.

  It was much smaller than she’d imagined. In fact, it wasn’t much larger than her mother’s new solarium. How could two people and a baby live in it? How could three people and a baby live in it, now that she was here?

  The wooden exterior was unpainted, and in the windows she could see only pieces of cloth hung in lieu of real curtains. No flowers surrounded the home. Instead of a grassy lawn, there was only bare dirt with occasional scrubs of prairie grass.

  An outbuilding stood to the side. It was no more than an obviously constructed hut, with a wide-open door hanging at a rakish angle. She could see inside it from the wagon and noted that there were some large machines in there and a makeshift stall. It must be what served as a barn.

  The door to the house opened, and Winnie hobbled out and waved with her uninjured arm. Tom leapt from the wagon and ran to her side. “Winnie, honey, you shouldn’t be up! Where’s Annylee? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, and I’m fine,” Winnie responded with the same laugh that Suzette remembered, and that cheered her immensely. Whatever was wrong here, her childhood friend had kept her sense of humor. “And look who’s here! Suzette!”

  Suzette ran to her side and hugged her. “Winnie, I’m so glad to see you again! It’s been so long, and we have much catching up to do. And, of course, I must see that beautiful baby girl.”

  Winnie held Suzette tightly with her free arm. “I’m delighted you’re here. As you can see, our accommodations aren’t what you’re used to, but you are so welcome. How long can you stay?”

  Suzette looked at Tom over Winnie’s shoulder, and said, “Christmas, maybe.”

  “Christmas! Why, that’s months away! Three months!” Winnie grinned. “You were always such a prankster. Well, come on in. Annylee is asleep but, honestly, she looks like an angel when she’s in dreamland.”

  Suzette’s heart sank when she saw the interior of the house. The furnishings were minimal and quite worn. Tom and Winnie must have gotten them used, perhaps as cast-offs from other settlers.

  There were two upholstered chairs, with the cloth so threadbare that the white stuffing shown through, and an unpainted rocking chair was placed in the far corner. A tiny table sat in the middle of the room, and she realized as she saw the stove next to it that the single room served as both the parlor and the kitchen.

  A cloth hung over a doorway, hiding what must be the sleeping quarters.

  But in the middle of the room was the centerpiece of the home—a bassinette draped with netting, and from inside it came little sounds, like a kitten mewing.

  Tom walked over to it and pulled back the netting. He reached inside and gently lifted out the baby. Suzette’s heart swelled when she saw the complete tenderness in his expression as he lifted Annylee to his face, kissed her gently, then held her against his cheek.

  “The Bible says, ‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ Suzette, meet our treasure, Miss Annylee Longmont.”

  He shifted his shoulder so the baby faced her. Her cheeks still rosy from her nap, she smiled faintly and looked at Suzette with eyes as blue as the Dakota sky.

  Suzette felt herself being drawn toward the baby. She’d never had much to do with infants. They slept quite a bit, and when they were awake, they were either being cleaned or fed or getting ready to sleep. She much preferred toddlers, who had clear personalities and were mobile and could play.

  However, with that single look, Annylee had changed Suzette’s opinion.

  “Can I hold her?” she asked softly.

  Annylee snuggled against her father’s jacket and blinked shyly at Suzette.

  “Of course,” he said, and cradling his daughter in his hands, he offered her to Suzette.

  Annylee came to her easily. It was almost as if she knew what to do more than Suzette did, as the baby adjusted her length against Suzette’s, curling her knees up against Suzette’s chest until she found the softest part in the crook of Suzette’s neck to nestle in.

  And then Annylee sighed.

  With that single exhalation, Suzette was won over. How could a single breath carry such comfort, such happiness, such peace? And yet it did.

  The baby’s head rested against her own skin. Suzette ran her fingers through Annylee’s hair, as pale gold as an early morning sunbeam and as soft as a whispered promise. She was so tiny. Her delicate little fingers closed into tiny fists, and then her arms reached out and she yawned.

  Suzette had never seen anything or anyone as simply and purely beautiful as Annylee.

  Then Annylee’s miniature face crumpled and she let out a cry.

  “I think you’d better let me have her,” Winnie said. “I imagine she’s hungry.”

  Reluctantly, Suzette handed the baby back to her mother, who sank into the rocking chair by the window.

  “Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you around the farm, such as it is,” Tom said, and they left Winnie and Annylee to give them some privacy.

  All Suzette knew about farming was what she’d seen in books and the occasional magazine, but this looked nothing like those pictures. The horse, which Tom had neglected to unhook from the wagon, grazed as well as it could in the same spot it had been left in.

 
A horse. A real prairie horse. It looked stockier and more muscular than the ones her parents had. And much, much bigger.

  Carefully she reached out and tentatively patted its neck. “Good horse,” she said weakly.

  Tom laughed. “This is Whirlwind. He came prenamed. He used to belong to the neighbors, and their seven-year-old son named him that. He hasn’t quite lived up to the moniker.” He unhooked the horse from the wagon and led it to the shed.

  She followed him, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she tried not to show her dismay.

  “This is what passes as our barn,” he said. “I’m not sure—I don’t know what we’ll do when the cold comes. It was touch and go last winter. We were blessed with a rather warm season, or so they tell me.”

  “How do you protect the horse when it’s cold?” she asked.

  “We put bales of straw up along the inside walls, and that worked fairly well. I also added bulwarks along the lower parts of the outside, and that helped, too. Of course, that also meant that we had visitors all winter long.”

  “Visitors?”

  “Mice mainly, but the occasional skunk and raccoon came in, and the squirrels took advantage of it, too.”

  “Ah.” She tried not to shudder. It was worse than she’d thought.

  He looked at her squarely. “Suzette, this is the prairie. We don’t live here alone.”

  She watched from the safe distance of the doorway as he made sure that Whirlwind had water and hay, and then the two of them walked out into the farmyard.

  Again she was struck by how scruffy the land looked. Where were the orderly fields of grain? The neat green of the grassy expanses? Wagons filled with the wealth of the soil?

  “We have a garden,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Ever since the baby and Winnie’s accident, we’ve let it go somewhat, but I have a great wife, and she got quite a bit put up for the winter.”

  “You have to prepare for winter in ways we don’t,” she said, mainly to herself, but he answered.

  “Indeed. It’s not easy. We were poorly prepared for our first winter here, and I can’t say we’re much better off for our second one. But we have time.”