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

by Hildie McQueen

  Wilhelmina stood with her back against the wall, unable to look away from the spectacle. She’d never witnessed such a brutal display of animosity. Just then, the man who’d been punched got up and rushed the taller one and both began to hit one another with renewed vigor.

  A third man rushed over, pulled a gun and shot into the air. Wilhelmina and several other women screamed at the loud sound.

  It startled the brawlers to stop. Both men lay on their backs, their chests heaving. It was then Wilhelmina noticed the man who’d shot wore a tin star pinned to his chest. A sheriff had come and would surely drag the troublemakers away to jail. A much-deserved spell behind bars would serve them right.

  Wilhelmina was finally able to lower her hands from her chest where she’d clutched her small reticule as if it would protect her. With wide eyes, she watched as the sheriff scolded the men who looked to be properly chastised, their eyes downcast and boots scratching at the ground.

  “Brutes.” A young woman came to stand next to Wilhelmina. “I don’t know why these men don’t expend all their energy doing something useful.” She shook her head, blonde, tight curls bouncing, and smiled at Wilhelmina. “You must be new in town by the pale, frightened look on your face.”

  “Yes, I just arrived. I’m Wilhelmina Wilkins.” She held out her hand.

  The blonde took her hand. “Isabel Ward. My father is the preacher here in Laurel. There he is now.”

  They watched as a clergyman neared and took one of the fighters by the arm and pulled him towards where she and Isabel stood.

  Isabel laughed. “Looks like Marcus is in big trouble now.”

  Just then, the tall man who allowed the preacher to guide him toward her looked up. His bright hazel eyes met hers. Wilhelmina lost her breath and looked to her new acquaintance. “What did you say?”

  “I said that Marcus Hamilton is in trouble. He’s such a hothead. Like a bull in a pen.”

  Wilhelmina looked to the man again. Her soon to be husband had a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. The cut expanded when he grinned at her.

  Lord help her.

  Chapter Six

  Marcus wasn’t sure why he grinned other than the preacher’s words made him want to laugh. That he’d forgotten all about his troubles for a few minutes while brawling helped clear his head.

  The grin left when his lip ached and upon meeting the gaze of disapproval of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Annoyed at the thought he’d never be able to get to know her, he was instantly reminded that his soon to be wife could have been on the train that arrived moments earlier.

  “Pastor Ward, I do apologize for my behavior and understand you wish to speak to me about it. However, I have to go to the station and see if my bride arrived.” He’d already met with the man about marrying him as soon as Wilhelmina Wilkins arrived. As much as he didn’t want to marry a total stranger at first sight, it would not be a good idea to take her home without being married.

  “Have you considered the picture you will present upon meeting her? Your right eye will swell shut and your mouth is cut open.” Pastor Ward didn’t raise his voice while speaking, yet every word seemed loud and clear. The clergyman released his arm. “Mind your manners, there’s my daughter and another lady.”

  The fact the pastor felt such a warning was needed annoyed him. But under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame him. “Yes sir.”

  The woman who stood next to the pastor’s daughter had turned some sort of green shade. Her eyes widened more and more as he and the pastor walked closer. Maybe his face was a fright. He looked down and wiped at his mouth with his torn sleeve. “I should probably go wash my face.”

  “Hello, Father,” Isabel Ward said, looking from her father to him. “Marcus.” It was evident she was not impressed by what she’d seen.

  There was a beat of silence before Pastor Ward looked to the pretty woman who’d yet to look away. Her study of him made Marcus want to shuffle his feet. “I am George Ward, Isabel’s father.” He motioned to Marcus. “And believe it or not, this man is not as he presents himself. Marcus Hamilton.”

  If possible, the woman paled further. “N-nice to meet you…I am Wilhelmina Wilkins.”

  The ground shifted and Marcus reached out with both arms to steady himself on the nearby porch post. He first searched the pastor’s face and then looked to Isabel who frowned back.

  Isabel crossed her arms and peered at him with both eyebrows lifted. “Whatever is wrong with you, Marcus? Fist fighting in the middle of town in bright daylight. Your mother will hear about this and she will be most displeased.”

  He finally met Wilhelmina’s gaze. The woman was dressed in finery from the top of her head, where a small hat was perched, to her fitted jacket over an obviously expensive gown.

  Clutched in her hands was a small bag of sorts that matched her dress. She squeezed it tighter upon his inspection.

  The pastor looked from him to Wilhelmina. “Don’t tell me this is the woman you are here to meet?” He seemed to find humor in the situation as his eyes twinkled with barely hidden mirth. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “What?” It was Isabel’s turn to stare, her eyes and mouth wide. “Oh no.”

  Finally, Wilhelmina blinked and let out a soft breath. “Mr. Hamilton, I expected to be greeted at the train station.”

  He swallowed and looked to the pastor who didn’t offer any help. “I apologize…I was…”

  “Otherwise detained?” She lifted a perfectly formed eyebrow and glanced toward the saloon. “I am not sure we are suited at all. I will make arrangements to return home at once.” She turned to the other two people and gave them a polite smile. “Can you instruct me as to where I can find accommodations for a few days?”

  Pastor Ward nudged Marcus.

  “I will escort you to a meal and make arrangements for your belongings to be picked up.” Marcus motioned toward a small eatery. “If you would give me a moment, I need to wash up before I will be fit to be seen with you.”

  “Why don’t we have tea while we wait?” Isabel thankfully added. “I’m sure this will all work itself out.” She shook her head and gave Marcus a pointed look. “You will learn life is much different here. And although Marcus has not made the best of impressions, he has some redeeming qualities.”

  The pastor’s daughter, once again, looked to Marcus. “Join us after you clean up.”

  Being Isabel had never been friendly to him, but preferred Eleanor’s company, he was intrigued to hear what those particular redeeming qualities were. His intended looked at him for a moment then offered a reluctant nod to Isabel.

  “Very well. Although at the moment, I am not so sure any quality could redeem what I just witnessed.”

  As Wilhelmina and Isabel walked away, both turned to look at him. Neither expression made him feel good about the situation.

  Pastor Ward remained next to him. “I’d also suggest you find a clean shirt and perhaps some very cold item to press against that eye.” The pastor tapped his shoulder. “Not a good first impression, Marcus.”

  Whistling, he followed after the women.

  Truer words had never been spoken. What had he been thinking, going to the saloon to wait for the train? Instead, he could have used the time more wisely and purchased some needed things at the mercantile. He blamed the situation on his being on edge, unsure of what would happen once his bride-to-be arrived.

  Marcus hurried to a friend’s home to fetch a shirt and wash up.

  Evan Jones looked up from where he sat reading. “Needing a few stitches today?” Evan’s gaze traveled across Marcus’ face to his bloody knuckles. “I heard the commotion outside and a pair of woman came to take refuge in here.” He smiled and shook his head, moving closer. “The lip can go without stitching. Your eye will probably be all right in a couple days.”

  “I need to borrow a shirt and wash up,” Marcus said, already moving to the man’s living quarters. “I have a…visi
tor.”

  Evan followed him. “Is that so? Who is visiting you?”

  “No one you know.” He went to a trunk, opened it and pulled out a shirt. “This will do.” After yanking his torn and dirty one off, he went to a basin and poured water into it.

  “Help yourself,” Evan said, leaning on the doorjamb, his arms crossed. “Who’s the woman?”

  He lowered his face and splashed water onto it. Immediately, a picture of the beautiful woman with Pastor Ward and his daughter came to mind. “Ma and Eleanor wrote off for a mail order bride. She came on the train today.”

  His friend’s chuckle irritated him. “Did she see the fight?”

  Marcus nodded. “And wants to go back home.” Instead of feeling relief at the thought of Wilhelmina leaving, disappointment nudged. “She can’t leave, of course.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I won’t allow it.”

  This time, Evan laughed. “This, I have got to see. Where is your not to be bride?”

  “At the restaurant down the street with Pastor Ward and his daughter.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Marcus sized up his friend. At thirty-two, Evan Jones was in his prime. With dark blond hair and bright brown eyes behind spectacles, he could have been plain of face. But no, Evan was tall, wide shouldered and attractive. A doctor, he also had education and a viable, stable income.

  “No you won’t.”

  “Afraid of competition?” Evan guessed exactly what Marcus feared. After the horrible first impression, a circus chimp would prove a better match for the fair Wilhelmina.

  “I would rather not have more of an audience than I will already with the preacher and his daughter there.” Marcus shoved Evan’s shirt into this pants. “I’ll bring your shirt back after it’s washed. Thank you.”

  “Not a problem, apparently,” Evan replied with a frown. “I like that shirt, so don’t tear it up.”

  The doctor went to another room and returned with gauze. The smell of antiseptic made Marcus cringe even before the stinging liquid was pressed to his lip.

  “Ouch,” he groaned. He attempted to remain still when Evan rubbed at another nick on his jaw.

  “There’s not much I can do about the eye. Best to press a wet cloth against it a bit before leaving.”

  Marcus was feeling a bit more prepared to meet the woman who would hopefully be his wife. It struck him as odd that immediately upon meeting her, ownership settled within. He hesitated in front of Evan’s house. He thought back and considered all this was a waste of time and she’d continue to insist on leaving.

  What would he feel if she insisted on returning home?

  Marcus smoothed the shirt and lowered his shoulders. He’d better make a better impression over the meal if he hoped to change her mind.

  The sky was clear, a bright blue. In spite of the frigid air, the sun felt warm on his back. It was still early, just past noon.

  The time of day gave him a few hours to convince Wilhelmina to marry him so they could head home and be there before too late.

  If she refused, they’d both remain the night and that meant she would have the option of the next train out of Laurel. The train would arrive the day after.

  In spite of the dread at seeing her intended again, Wilhelmina found herself enjoying Isabel Ward’s company. From what the young woman told her, life in the west was much more different than she’d expected. Everything from modes of transportation, ways of dressing and the temperament of the local society, as it was, were nothing like back home.

  From what she observed around her, the women dressed with less regalia. The men often wore thick, wool overcoats. Although most of the men donned hats, many of the coverings looked well worn, the same for shoes. She’d noticed Isabel’s shoes were more serviceable than fashionable. Her overcoat was worn to protect from the cold air and not as a fashion statement.

  Wilhelmina had thought herself prepared with a fitted jacket and cape, but the cold air had managed to seep through the clothing. She’d been shivering by the time she and her companions arrived at the eatery.

  The preacher made his excuses after finishing his coffee and informed them he’d return for Isabel within the hour. He asked that Wilhelmina take time to listen to Marcus and speak to him for a bit before making the rash decision to return home.

  Once her father left, Isabel gave Wilhelmina a soft smile. “I certainly understand your trepidation after seeing the ruckus from the saloon. But you must understand, most men here are untamed. Although their mothers try their best, there simply aren’t enough women to force them to be more polite in public.” Isabel let out a sigh. “Some are better disposed than others. Marcus is normally easygoing, although he does have a quick temper. He will fight first and then, afterwards, usually remains friends with whoever he traded punches with.”

  “Do you have a brother?” Wilhelmina asked, unable to keep from smiling. “Is he as untamed?”

  “Oh yes,” Isabel replied rapidly. “Jonas and father constantly argue over my brother’s refusal to mature. Although not as hot tempered as Marcus, he is forever trying his luck at different ventures that cost him dearly.”

  Wilhelmina wondered at the way of life in the west. Certainly, there were trades the men could do. And obviously, more and more people, especially women, came west. “I think they are clinging to the notion of the untamed west to keep from minding their manners. In my opinion, there is never an excuse for such foolish behavior.”

  “You are correct, Miss Wilkins.” Marcus Hamilton stood beside her, his bright hazel eyes taking her in. Upon closer inspection, his bruising was not as bad as she’d first thought. Although his right eye was swollen, it was still open. “I apologize for my behavior and for not greeting you at the train station today.” He hesitated and looked to her companion. “Miss Ward, how are you today?”

  He remained standing, for which Wilhelmina was grateful. At least he wasn’t totally without some kind of decorum.

  When she didn’t speak, Isabel motioned to the chair her father had just vacated. “Please join us, Marcus.”

  He pulled the chair back. Wood scratched across the floor, the sound vibrating up her spine. Finally, Marcus lowered his large frame onto the chair directly across from her and she couldn’t help but look directly at him.

  At seeing the handsome man so close, her breath caught. Apparently, she’d been so caught off guard by the fistfight and subsequent shock that she’d not noticed how attractive Marcus Hamilton was. Even with a swollen eye and cut lip, he was more than any woman could hope for in a husband. Tall and broad shouldered, he fit comfortably into the role of rancher and cowboy.

  She wondered how he would react to knowing her plans remained firm. No matter how good looking or handsome a man was, Wilhelmina could not see spending the rest of her life with a ruffian.

  “Mr. Hamilton, I must tell you I’m appalled by your behavior. Not only did you not greet me, but also you left me to fend for my personal belongings and find my way into town. I won’t even discuss your other actions.”

  Upon letting out a huff, she lifted her chin to look down her nose at him, failing only because he was so much taller even when seated.

  His brows came together and he rolled his head, stretching out his neck. To all outward appearances, he was more bored than contrite. But she’d seen the slight widening of his eyes while she spoke and the fact her words affected him, for some reason, made her feel better.

  “I apologize profusely. I understand why my behavior gives you a bad impression. However, I assure you, it is not an indication of how your life here will be.” He raked his fingers through his wavy hair and looked up just as a woman came and refilled their tea. He asked for water and nothing else then gulped down the entire contents before the woman left, so she refilled it.

  In truth, Wilhelmina began to doubt her decision to return east. Her prospects were to live alone in Philadelphia, shunned by society for doing so, or moving to live with her aun
t. The latter made her shudder.

  “If I were to stay, Mr. Hamilton, I would like a reprieve on the marriage. I need time to ensure this is not a huge mistake.”

  “No.” He leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table. “We get married today or not at all. You accepted my proposal, Miss Wilkins. We have an agreement. I will be a good husband and I will never give you cause to regret your decision to marry me. You will be treated well and respected. The one thing I ask is that you and I marry today.”

  At a loss for words, she looked to Isabel.

  Instead of being shocked, Isabel smiled, looking from one to the other. “How romantic,” she exclaimed and rested her chin on her palm, waiting for whatever happened next.

  “I do not agree, Isabel. This is must objectionable.”

  Both Marcus and Isabel frowned, obviously not sure what she meant. Wilhelmina lifted her cup and sipped, looking into Marcus’ eyes over the rim of the cup. “I am not sure how to reply.”

  “No need. We’ll go to Pastor Ward’s house, get married and, after picking up your belongings, we will go home.”

  Her face heated and she was sure it reddened, a combination of confusion and anger. On one hand, the fact he was taking charge in such a frank and open manner was quite attractive. On the other, how dare the man order her about? “You are not going to tell me what I must do. I make my own decisions.” She sat erect and scanned the interior of the restaurant. The people at the neighboring tables all watched, enthralled.

  To make matters worse, the two other women in the room looked at Marcus as if he were the most admirable of men. The man had just rolled around in the middle of the street for goodness sakes. People in polite society would be shunning him.