“Thank you for that. I know it was the right thing to do, even if it meant that I might die…that the baby might die. I knew if you surrendered, he’d tie you up, and force you to watch…”
Jake groaned—a freshet of fear coursing through his body again—and held her tighter. “All I could think of, the whole ride up here, was that I couldn’t lose you…I couldn’t lose our baby. We have a whole life planned, and I couldn’t imagine my future without you and our child at my side.”
She pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and a hesitant smile on her face. “Our child?”
“Yes, our child.” He caressed her face, and laid his hand on her not-quite-flat belly. “I don’t care about the baby’s origin—all I care about is that when he or she comes into this world, I will be the baby’s father. We will be a family…together.”
Epilogue
April, 1891
Helena, Montana
“Oh, my goodness, as I live and breathe!” exclaimed Madeline Porter. “Lillibeth Morgan, I thought you were never going to get back from that honeymoon trip of yours!”
Jake held open the door for Lilly, who was very grateful, due to the heavy bundle in her arms. Clay Porter waited on Mrs. Perkins, while Herman Kirschner played checkers in the corner with his lady friend, the widow Agnes Johnson.
“Is this him? Oh my, he’s so sweet.” Madeline leaned over to admire the little bundle in Lilly’s arms, while trying to hang on to her own wriggling seven month old son, who was desperate to reach out and touch the younger baby.
Lilly kissed the fringe of fine hair on the top of her baby’s head. “Isn’t he though? Hey, little Jacob—wakey wakey. It’s time to meet your new friend. Jacob, this is Chandler Herman Porter. Chandler, this is Jacob Cornelius Morgan.” Lilly held her son up for little Chandler to see better. Jacob blinked, yawned, and rolled his eyes toward the grasping seven-month-old.
“Ohh, he’s such a dear,” sighed Madeline.
“How old is he?” Mrs. Perkins asked, scooting around Madeline to get a better look. She raised an eyebrow. “He’s quite a big fella, isn’t he?”
“He’s a little over two months old.” Lilly smiled at Mrs. Perkins without blinking.
“Oh!” She looked up at Jake. “He takes after his Pa then, doesn’t he?” She leaned over and smiled down into Jacob’s blue eyes. “Gonna be a big boy like your Pa then? Help out in the smithy, will you? Gaa gaa? That’s right! Yes, that’s right!”
Jake rolled his eyes at Lilly over Mrs. Perkins’ baby talk.
When Mrs. Perkins was done fussing over the baby, she took her package of pork chops from Clay and bid them all goodbye.
“Let’s give these folks a chance to talk, Agnes,” Mr. Kirschner said to his well-groomed companion.
“Oh, but I wanted to see the baby too,” she pouted, smoothing back a grey hair that had defied the elegant-but-severe knot arranged on the back of her head.
“Just a turn around the block, first. What do you say?” He gave Mrs. Johnson a look, and she relented. “Don’t leave until we come back!” she called over her shoulder as Mr. Kirschner guided her out.
“He doesn’t know…?” Lilly asked, horrified.
“No,” assured Madeline. “Just the four of us. Clay just gave him a little nod, and Herman knew Clay wanted a minute alone with you two.”
“Oh, good.” Lilly breathed. “I just don’t want anything getting around town.”
“So when was his real birthday?” Clay asked.
“January third,” answered Jake. “He was born in Dallas. We stayed there for the month before and the month after the birth. We were lucky, he actually came a couple of weeks late, and he very much takes after Lilly’s side of the family—her brother was on the small side, too.”
“Ha!” chided Lilly. “You say we were lucky that he was born late…but you weren’t the one carrying a baby past the expected time, in Texas heat.”
The Porters laughed.
“So he’s three and a half months old, instead of a little over two?” Madeline asked.
Lilly nodded. “I don’t think you can tell, too much.”
“How was Texas?”
“Oh we loved it, though the insects there were enormous!” Lilly shuddered. “And Salt Lake City and Wyoming were fascinating, too. We were able to visit a few cities before we had to settle down in Dallas for the duration of my confinement. The railroad is tough when you’re expecting—but I’m so glad I was over my morning sickness by then. It was an incredible trip.” She elbowed her husband. “But Jake couldn’t get back fast enough—he was sure Edgar was going to run the smithy into the ground.”
“We lost a few customers,” Jake cut in, “because they didn’t like that I was gone for six months, but there were a whole bunch more waiting for me to come back so they could place custom orders, because they loved the Crowley’s fence. And I have to admit, Edgar didn’t do too bad of a job keeping things going.”
Lilly slapped him on the shoulder. “He did a fine job, and you know it. He deserves a raise.”
Jake nodded grudgingly. “Alright, alright, he does, I can’t deny that.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How goes the mail order bride business?”
“My marriage correspondence business is going just fine, thank you,” Madeline corrected.
“Yeah, if by ‘fine’ you mean a thorn in your side!” Clay laughed.
“Clay.”
“Let me tell them—I don’t get to tell anyone anything!” he teased. “It’s not like the Morgans don’t know about how these things can go…uh…a little bit awry.”
“Oh no!” Lilly laughed. “What happened?”
“Well, first, there was the whole mess with Adelaide—or should I say—”
“Clay.”
“At least let me tell them about Mollie—they’re going to hear that story from around town, anyway. Although actually, I think the Adelaide story is better, and that’s still being talked about…”
“Clay, really! And you say Mrs. Perkins is a gossip!” Madeline sighed with irritation—then she paled, and turned to Lilly and Jake. “I mean…not that Mrs. Perkins isn’t a wonderful person! She is, of course…”
Lilly giggled and nudged her husband. “We understand. It sounds like it’s been a very hectic six months for you.”
“You have no idea. Honestly, I pride myself on taking great care in the selection of brides and bridegrooms, but if people keep hiding things from me, my professional name will be in tatters!”
“I’m so sorry I kept the truth from you.” Lilly blushed, feeling chagrined.
“Oh, I’m not talking about you, dear. I understand your situation, I truly do. But the last two girls…” Madeline sighed. “I don’t know what they were thinking.”
“But it all ended up happy, didn’t it?” Lilly knew how terrifying it was to come so far, and fear that the “happily ever after” you’d hoped for might not ever come. She hated to think that other girls didn’t get the same wondrously happy situation that she had found.
“Well…I’ll have to tell you about it all another time,” Madeline said, nodding toward Mr. Kirschner and his lady friend as they came back into the shop.
“Oh good, you’re still here. May I?” Mrs. Johnson held out her hands, and Lilly placed her wiggling son into her arms. “Oh, he’s just precious! You must be so proud.”
Jake touched his hand lightly on Lilly’s back, where no one could see, and she looked up to see her handsome husband smiling down at her.
“We are,” he murmured. “Very proud, and very happy.”
###
If you enjoyed Mail Order Promises, watch for Julianna Blake’s third book in the Montana Mail Order Brides series, Mail Order Runaway, now available!
Read on for two-chapter excerpt of Mail Order Runaway…
***
October, 1890
Montana
The horse galloped at full speed down the main road. Hot tears course
d down Elinor’s cheeks, turning icy before they even dripped off her chin. The wind against her face was frigid, and she realized too late that the weather had become too cold for the way she was dressed.
No matter, she thought. The brisk air would clear her mind. She was so furious, humiliated, and heartbroken—her heart ached as her mind replayed his words over and over again.
She hadn’t decided where she was going, only that she had to get as far away as she could. Perhaps she’d ride into town and see the pastor. He’d know what to do.
As the minutes went by, snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Soon, they whirled in a vigorous dance, and fat white flakes that coated her hair, then melted into frigid drops that seeped through her clothing. It wasn’t long before she could scarcely see the road in front of her.
The wind blew harder, and her hands were freezing, curled over the reins.
Endless minutes crawled by, and it only got worse. At last she pulled the reins, bringing the horse up short, scanning the world of white. She wasn’t even sure how far she’d gone toward town.
She wasn’t going to freeze to death for the sake of her pride. She tugged on the reins, turning the horse around. At least…she thought she was. The snow was melting not long after it touched the ground, but beyond her the world was nearly obliterated by a curtain of white.
She didn’t want to overwork the horse in the cold weather—a cold, sweaty horse could end up being a sick one—so she rode back at a fast trot. The wind was less harsh at the slower pace, but it still seemed even colder.
The wind whipped her skirts, exposing the bottom of her legs. Her calves were ice cold, and her fingers were numb. That can’t be good, she thought. The snow was finally beginning to stick to the ground, obscuring it.
Now Elinor truly felt fear—she was lost. She had no idea how far she had wandered, or how far from the road they were. She wasn’t even sure that she and the horse were going in the right direction.
Tears blurred her vision once again, but it didn’t matter—she couldn’t see anything but her horse and the curtain of snow. She drew the lapel of the sacque around her neck as tightly as she could, but with the wind pulling at it, it made little difference. All she could hear was the crunching of snow beneath the horse’s hooves, and the sound of labored breathing—both her own and the horse’s. Do horses freeze to death as fast as humans? If he gave out sooner than she did, she had little chance of survival.
She was so tired. Tired of lying, tired of hiding who she was. Tired of trying to sit, twisted upright, in the stupid side saddle. Tired of trying to keep her eyes open. She let go of the reins, leaning forward, clinging to the horse’s mane as best she could.
Then she closed her eyes.
***
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER…
Charlestown, Massachusetts
July, 1890
“How did you become the luckiest girl in the world, Addie?” Elinor rolled onto her back, laying across Addie’s bed. She held the letter above her head with both hands, reading the words again, even though they were already seared in her memory.
“That’s ridiculous,” Addie chided as she slid the last pin into her copper-colored hair. “You’re the one about to marry a textile baron.”
“Bah! He’s no more a textile baron than I am the queen of England. His father owns a small, run-down textile mill, which is the only reason my father thinks I should marry him. It doesn’t matter to him that Walter is a bore, or that I’ll be miserable every moment for the rest of my life.” Elinor sighed, letting the arm that held the letter flop over her head to cover her eyes. Hot needles of tears pricked at her eyes. I will not cry. Not here. Not now.
“You’re exaggerating.” Addie rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “And you’re also wrinkling my freshly-made bed.”
Addie’s pinched expression coerced Elinor to raise herself up off the bed quilt. “Oh bother, one of your six-dozen siblings will be along to mess it up for you in a second or two.”
“Exaggerating again. And if you must mess up a bed, choose Margaret’s.” Addie flicked her hand toward the other two beds in the small room. “She makes a terrible bed, to begin with.”
“Six siblings, six-dozen, what’s the difference?” Elinor sighed and got off the bed, smoothing the quilt in a half-hearted gesture. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d go mad living in such chaos.” Even though I always wished I had brothers and sisters of my own…just maybe not quite so many.
As if to prove Elinor’s point, a crash sounded from below, in the general direction of the kitchen, after which, squalls and crying ensued. The disapproving tones of Addie’s harried mother followed.
“I am going mad,” Addie complained. “Why do you think I’m becoming a mail order bride? I need to get out of here. I’m ready to start a life of my own. I don’t want to be trapped working in the shirtwaist factory forever. And the boys around here aren’t standing in line to marry a bookworm like me.”
“That’s preposterous. You’re a terrific girl, and any man would be lucky to have you.” Elinor grabbed Addie by the hand, squeezing it. “But I do wish you wouldn’t go. You’re my best friend! How will I survive my boring, endless life with Walter if I don’t at least have you by my side?”
“I don’t want to leave you behind, but we both know that even after you’re married, your parents will do everything they can to keep us apart. You had to sneak out just to come here today! What are you going to do, sneak around and lie to Walter after you’re married, the way that you lie to your parents? That’s not an ideal way to start off a marriage.”
“I know, I know!” Elinor sighed, covering her face with her hands. “It’s not like I want to lie—but what choice did they give me? Just because Papa inherited some money and moved us to the Back Bay, I’m supposed to leave my best friend—my whole life—behind?” She paced, flailing her hands as she talked, the beloved letter crinkling with every movement. “The last two years since my family moved away from Charlestown have been miserable for me. It’s not fair! I just want to be friends with you, find a man that I love—and who really loves me—and live a normal life.”
Elinor sagged onto Addie’s bed again. “I’m tired of Papa’s ambitions…and Mama’s, too. She makes me take painting lessons, piano lessons, French lessons…all so I can fit in with the other ‘accomplished young ladies’. Bah!” She held up the letter, shaking it. “This is what life is about! Love. Marriage. Babies. A farm, and a barn full of chickens and horses and adorable little wooly lambs. Most important, a life with a real man—not one who equates marriage with a business proposition!” Elinor flopped backward onto the bed again. “I’m tired of having to play a role. Embroidery. French. Piano lessons. Ugh! Why can’t I just make my own decisions?”
Addie crossed her arms. “There are far worse things in the world than having to take piano and French lessons. I have to take violin lessons, from my mother. And I have to work all day at the shirtwaist factory. Plus there’s helping around the house. When was the last time you had to change a diaper, or take a sister to the park, or do the dishes for a family of nine, or—?”
“Fine, fine, I get it. I’m an only child, and lazy to boot.”
“I wouldn’t say lazy. You get done what’s expected of you. And before you moved and got a whole staff to wait on you, I always saw you work hard whenever your mother asked you to. But now, you’re just very…unsatisfied.”
“You act like I’m a spoiled brat. Believe me, I’m not! Mama and Papa have spent almost all the inheritance on the new house, and buying their share in the factory, and the servants. They can barely make ends meet, because they’re trying so hard to maintain a lifestyle that they can’t afford. There’s no room for any extravagances for me, beyond what is necessary to show off to their Art Club friends. So believe me, I’m not showered with trinkets. They might have to let half of the staff go.”
“I didn’t realize they’d let it get that far. How awful for the staff, losing their jobs lik
e that.”
“Mama and Papa think I don’t know, but I’ve heard them arguing. They think my marriage to Walter will bring Papa new business connections that may help keep us afloat.” All it will bring me is misery. Elinor imagined herself standing before Walter in the church, and a panic swept through her. Her head spun worse than it ever had from a tight-laced corset. She fanned herself with the letter and tried to push the image away by filling her mind with happy things. Green fields of alfalfa. Fluffy white sheep. Baskets of home-grown vegetables.
Gideon Cartwright.
“I’m sorry.” Addie’s voice intruded. “Honestly, I’ve never thought you were spoiled. You just seem so unhappy, and even though things aren’t perfect, you still have quite a grand life.”
The panic receded and Elinor took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky puff. “It seems that way, doesn’t it? But it’s not. I’ve done everything my mother has expected of me—including sacrificing the rest of my life, all for her ambitions! I know it sounds shallow, but you just don’t understand, Addie. My life seems perfect on the surface, but I’m miserable.”
“Elinor, your perspective is skewed. You should see the hardships that the girls at the factory have to live through. Some of them have lived through terrible accidents, being orphaned, nearly starving to death. They’d all give anything to have the life you have.”
“I’d rather work in a factory than live this way. I feel like a prisoner. A pretty prison is a prison nonetheless. All my choices have been taken away from me. I had hoped to escape my parents’ expectations when I married, but I fear I’ll be doing their will long after they’re gone. I think Walter is just like them. He cares about appearances. Not love. Not family. My life is not my own. I thought my best friend, of all people, would understand that.” Elinor thrust herself from the bed and stalked over to the window, looking down at the children playing in the street.
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