Wilhelmina, A Winter Bride (Brides for All Seasons Book 1)

by Hildie McQueen

  While his father, Tobias and James worked with the cattle and such, he’d spent the last two months building his home. Every day when he arrived at the new house, pride filled him at seeing the results of his hard work.

  Furniture would have to be built and those things that he couldn’t make had to be purchased. During his last trip to town, Marcus ordered a wood burning stove from the mercantile that were due to arrive any day. His sister and mother made curtains and pillows after he’d given them money to purchase fabric.

  Currently, they worked on completing a quilt and pillow cover set. There was still much to be done. Strange that until having to build a home, Marcus had not considered how many items were needed to fill it.

  Thankfully, his parents and Eleanor were a godsend. Somehow, his sister made the money stretch. She’d brought back from the mercantile not just the needed fabric for bedding and window dressings, but also pots, pans and other items he’d not thought about.

  “You’ll need a few chairs, dining table and such, still.” His father rode up. “I’ll help you build them if you wish.”

  Marcus nodded. “According to Mama, I also need to make a couple chests, a wardrobe and a cupboard for the kitchen.”

  His father took in the house. “You did a great job on the house, Son.”

  “To be honest, I’m surprised. Although I’d helped build houses before, I wasn’t sure how this would go.”

  They walked through the front door of his new home to a large open space that would be a combination kitchen, dining and living room. Straight back from the front door were two bedrooms with an indoor privy between them.

  Inside the kitchen, he’d installed a larder and another small room that could be used for storage. Overall, Marcus was proud of the house and hoped his new bride would find it acceptable.

  He’d yet to add a porch, but it would be done before winter set in.

  “You’ve got a letter.” His father pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Your Ma insisted I bring it out to you. Not sure why it couldn’t wait until supper.”

  Marcus eyed the letter not reaching for it. “Not sure I want to read it until then.” Finally, he took it and shoved it into his back pocket then pushed it further down with his handkerchief. “Sometimes I wonder if Mama and Eleanor want Tobias and me to get married just so they can have women friends.”

  His father chuckled. “You know, come to think of it, that may be one of the reasons.”

  Marcus let out a breath and looked from the surroundings to his father. “What’s it like, Pa? Being married.”

  A slow smile lifted the corners of his father’s lips. “It makes you a real man fast. Sharing life with a woman is hard to explain, Son. At once, you are not just a provider, but also a protector. You are the one who is responsible for not only stability in her life, but also any children that come after. Life is never the same after marriage and, yet, it’s so much better.”

  Marcus nodded, waiting for his father to continue.

  With a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, Jacob ensured he met his gaze. “Listen here. A woman can make you stronger, while at the same time so very vulnerable. All I know is that, although it’s not an easy thing, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  More confused than reassured, Marcus wanted his father to continue. “You knew Mama before you married her. I don’t know about this.” He pointed to his back pocket. “Marrying someone I never met. What if we don’t get along? She could hate me at first sight.”

  “True,” his father replied. “I’ve thought of that. The best advice I can give you is to listen. You’re a rash man, Marcus, act first—think later. That sort of personality will bring you more heartache than not.”

  It was too late to change his personality, so he resigned himself to hoping he’d manage to do better, once the bride arrived.

  His father’s hand dropping from his shoulder brought him out of his musing. “Don’t worry, Son. Things will work themselves out. Now, how about we use some of this wood and make a couple chairs before supper?”

  “What did she say?” Eleanor and his mother looked to him with more than obvious curiosity. “When is she coming?”

  It was then that he realized what they were talking about. The letter was in his room, unopened. He’d looked at the envelope several times, the neat penmanship spelling out his name and the return address somewhere in Pennsylvania.

  “I haven’t read it yet.”

  “My goodness, Marcus. Why not?” Eleanor replied with a disappointed frown. “Go fetch it. You should read it at once.”

  “Eleanor, let the boy be,” his father said, not looking up from his plate. “It’s his business when he reads it and he does not have to share the contents with us. Respect your brother’s privacy.”

  Instead of being properly chastised, his sister narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “If we don’t push him, he’ll just leave it unopened for days. What if she’s headed here and we have no idea when to expect her or greet her in Billings?”

  His mother’s gaze went from Eleanor to him. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. Will it, son?”

  Marcus let out a slow breath. “I’ll read it and make sure it doesn’t.” Mentally, he calculated. The days were colder, the smell of snow in the air. Soon, very soon, everything would be coated in white. Bitter temperatures would make being outdoors unbearable and most travel to the region would be put off until spring. He allowed a slow grin at his sister. “I’m sure she will not be arriving for a few months yet.”

  “There’s still time. I am sure if she booked her travel right away, she will arrive within days.”

  His blood ran cold and his eyes rounded. “I haven’t built a table yet. The stove hasn’t arrived.”

  No one listened to him, they had returned to eating. He looked at Tobias who’d also turned a ghostly shade of white. His brother’s brows were creased. “You think they move out here that fast?”

  Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll go read the letter and see what she says.”

  Minutes later, Marcus leaned back against his headboard and stared at the blurred lines on the paper he held. His bride was on her way. She’d thanked him for the money he’d sent for travel, insisted she was not in need of any additional funds and informed him of her estimated arrival date.

  He jumped from the bed, rushed into Tobias’ bedroom and verified what the current date was before returning to his room and locking the door. She would be there in a matter of days.

  He mentally inventoried what had to be done at the house. Marcus followed that with thoughts of how he planned to greet her. Finally, he lost his train of thought upon realizing he’d not installed a bed yet, nor any living room chairs. There wasn’t a wardrobe or cupboard, either.

  The woman had to be mistaken. It was not possible that she’d arrive just as winter set in. All this time, he’d relied on the knowledge he’d not have to marry until spring, giving him at least a three-month reprieve.

  Wilhelmina Wilkins informed him she would appreciate it if he arranged for them to be married immediately upon her arrival. Otherwise, she would be forced to find accommodations until they were husband and wife.

  The line that took his attention most was her informing him she was traveling without a maid companion, as she did not wish to bring her “lady” with her. What type of upbringing did she come from that she had maids and such? Did she expect him to provide for a handmaiden or some sort of lady-in-waiting?

  He scratched his head and let out a long breath. His sister and mother were responsible for this. Insisting he and Tobias get married.

  Granted, he was a grown man and could have fought them on it. Therefore, it was not all their fault.

  Two knocks on the door were followed by Eleanor’s whisper. “Marcus, open the door.” She knocked again and let out a loud huff. “For goodness sakes, let me in.”

  It was useless to not let the nosy woman in, so he stood and opened the door. She rushed to his bed and looked down at the letter.
“What does she say?” Her eyes were bright, lips parted with anticipation of whatever he would say.

  “She’ll be here in a few days. I am not ready, we don’t have a stove or a bed…” he paused and cleared his throat. “She’s probably already traveling here.”

  Eleanor laughed and clutched her hands together. “How positively exciting! I can’t wait to meet her.”

  When she noticed he frowned, her eyebrows rose. “Please don’t tell me you are scared.”

  “I am not scared. What I am is not ready. I don’t know why I let you and Mama talk me into this.”

  Her smile returned. “You’ll thank us as soon as you are settled into your new life.” She glanced at the letter again. “What else did she say?”

  “Something about not traveling with a companion or a maid.”

  At this, Eleanor scowled. “Maid?”

  “That’s what she wrote.”

  “Oh goodness. I wonder if she is some sort of high born. It could be hard for her to adjust to our style of life.”

  He blew out a long breath. “And that, Sister, is why this entire idea is probably a mistake. I can’t give her anything close to a pampered life.”

  Refusing to lose her positive outlook, Eleanor smiled widely. “I think she will be perfect. She’s pretty by the picture she sent and, according to her introduction letter, wishes to start a new life.”

  That night, the bright full moon shined through the window across his bed. Marcus remained awake, listening to nature’s nocturnal symphony as he went over everything that he had to do to prepare for his wife’s arrival.

  A wife. Very soon, he’d have a winter bride.

  Chapter Five

  The train chugged along at a fast pace, the cars jostling side to side. The movement lulled its passengers into a fitful slumber as mile after mile was traversed.

  No matter how Wilhelmina shifted, it was virtually impossible to get comfortable on the hard bench. One more day, just another long day, and she’d arrive at her destination. From Laurel, she’d be traveling by either coach or… Wilhelmina frowned. How would she be traveling to her new home? Did people out in the west own coaches?

  From what she’d been informed by Lady Price, the way of life in the west was very different than the city. She’d have to learn to preplan things she took for granted, like shopping for essentials. Often times, trips to purchase necessities meant traveling long distances to reach the local mercantile and such.

  Additionally, many households did not hire household help. Or if they did, the workers were local, indigenous people who may or may not speak English.

  She peered out to the passing landscape, but it was much too dark to see more than the blurred outlines of whatever they passed. The cabin of the train was rank, stale and in much need of fresh air to clear out the lingering smell of unwashed bodies and packed food past its prime.

  A man snored somewhere in the space. His loud exhalations mixed with the sounds of other, softer sleep noise.

  Wilhelmina jerked awake when her head fell forward and she rearranged a folded blanket to make a pillow. Once morning arrived, it would be time to worry about all that she faced. For now, she was in dire need of sleep.

  As her eyes closed, a picture of a tall, handsome man formed. His hand reached up, assisting her down from the train. Once Wilhelmina touched the ground, he gallantly bowed in welcome.

  Upon the formal greeting, he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. He assured her he would be a gentleman and allow her time to get to know him before they became intimate.

  His kind eyes were warm as he placed her hand into the nook of his arm and guided her away from the noise and ruckus of the crowds at the platform. Then ensuring she was properly ensconced in a plush coach, he climbed in beside her and instructed the coachman to carry them away to their romantic destination.

  Wilhelmina’s lips curved as a yawn escaped and then sleep claimed her.

  “Laurel Station!” a conductor called out for the tenth time it seemed. The train slowed to a crawl as the passengers scrambled to put all their belongings together. The windows were lowered, allowing in cold fresh air. Wilhelmina sat primly in her seat. At her feet, sat the trunk filled with her belongings and her oversized carpetbag rested atop that. Her other things were being mailed to her by Lady Price. They would arrive in another week or so.

  The landscape outside was not much different than it had been for the last day. Instead of buildings and roads, there were long expanses of rolling hills and meadows flanked by tall mountains.

  Wilhelmina couldn’t get over the difference between Montana and where she came from. Although she spotted buildings in the distance, this was nothing like Philadelphia.

  There were fields with small groupings of trees in the wide expanses of land. The scene was dotted with cattle grazing. People traveled by horseback and open wagons more than coaches.

  She wondered how women traveled when alone. Were there coaches for hire? It had not occurred to her to ask so many things when writing Marcus Hamilton. Now, it was through experience that she would learn the answers, it seemed.

  A crying child ran past where she sat as a woman chased close behind. “Jimmy, stop this instant! You’re going to fall.” The harried woman gave her an apologetic look before finally grabbing the boy’s arm. The kid was red faced at this point, mouth wide open as he shrieked in protest.

  While the woman attempted to comfort the toddler, Wilhelmina could only watch and relate to the boy. It would be wonderful to get away from the chaos and noise of the passengers attempting to gather their belongings and wits after so many days on a cramped, just as noisy train.

  Wilhelmina’s lips curved at remembering what awaited her. A man who would court and romance her, knowing they would share a lifetime together. Her husband-to-be was handsome and, by his letters and penmanship, a complete gentleman. Although his letters had been brief and to the point, she was able to glean from reading between the lines a deeper message of courtship and restraint.

  Finally, the train heaved to a slow stop. The resonances of screeching along with reverberations and jolts were a most glorious occurrence, indeed. Excited passengers on the platform side lowered windows and looked out, some already waving and calling out at recognizing those waiting for them.

  Wilhelmina searched the sea of people on the platform to see if any looked familiar. Several men were gathered along the wall of the station and she slowly scanned every face until giving up. It was pointless. With so much commotion, she could not get a clear look. The doors opened and people began moving while lugging or dragging their possessions.

  Her trunk was much too large for her to carry alone. Wilhelmina peered out and noticed that young men rushed to and fro helping passengers disembark. Some carried suitcases and such to the platform, placing them in neat piles and standing by them until paid.

  Once again, she looked to the line of men along the wall. They’d diminished in number as some had moved forward to greet someone disembarking or worked on some sort of railroad job. Of those that remained, none looked like the man in the photograph. Letting out a huff, she stood and moved to the doorway. Upon catching a young man’s attention, she waved him over. “I require assistance with a large trunk, please.”

  Finally, a long while later, Wilhelmina found herself settled onto a bench with her possessions neatly placed beside it. She stood once again and searched the platform for someone who seemed to be looking for her. Other than a few meandering people and passengers waiting for transport, the crowd had shrunk to only a few stragglers.

  “Sir, where can I get something to eat?” she asked an older man who was sweeping the platform. “And can I pay someone to watch my things?”

  The older man’s face creased when he smiled widely. “I am Bert Simpson. I work here at the station. I can get your things put away in the box office where no one will bother them.” He whistled and motioned for a young man. “Billy, git over here and move the lady’s thi
ngs into my office.”

  Bert turned back to her. “If you like, the local dining establishment is just over there. Just walk on this side of the street, ma’am. There is a saloon on the other side and you don’t want to walk in front of it. Always some commotion in there.”

  “Oh goodness. I’d not considered that.” Wilhelmina looked to where the man motioned. “Mr. Simpson, do you know Marcus Hamilton? He was supposed to meet me here.”

  “Marcus? I know that young man and his family. Fine people, those Hamiltons. They own land about a couple hours away. Jacob Hamilton, Marcus’ father, is a personal friend.” The man scratched his head. “I thought to have seen Marcus earlier when he rode past towards town just before your train arrived. He’s here in town.”

  “Thank you.” Wilhelmina lifted her skirts. What could have kept the man from coming back upon hearing the train arrive? She was not happy at the fact that he left her alone to fend for herself. Although not a huge town, Laurel was much too unfamiliar of a place for her to find him. She’d go to the eating establishment and get a meal. After that, she’d inquire about a room and send a note to the Hamiltons announcing her arrival. Perhaps, the letter she’d sent had not arrived. Now that would be troublesome.

  It was a short walk to the main street and she watched with interest as people bustled to and fro. Riders on horseback rushed past as did several wagons either laden with items or people. It was curious not to see many carriages. Instead, families seemed to travel by wagon, sitting precariously on a bench next to whoever handled the reins.

  Her skirts dragged on the dirty road and she tried her best to lift them to keep from catching on nails or the wooden planks of the walkway. Finally, she caught sight of the eatery.

  Just then, a commotion broke out across the street.

  Men yelled and several people rushed from the front of the saloon as a pair of men crashed out through the front doors. A whirlwind of punches and growls, the two rolled around into the middle of the road, oblivious to passersby. A wagon veered around them, barely slowing as one of the men lifted the other by the shirt collar and hit him so hard that the hapless victim flew a few feet, landing with a loud humph.