by Amanda Boone
“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do that,” she said, still panting slightly from the exertion.
“It didn’t take much convincing,” he replied. “I hate to say this, but we need to dress—in case somebody comes home.”
Once Moya was back in his nightshirt and Elise had redressed, she brought a chair from the kitchen table and set it by the bed, determined not to make the mistake of lying down with him again.
Now she needed to be his nurse. To concentrate on that, she untied the bandage from around his head and worked in silence to check his wound. It was fine, so she replaced the dressings and sat on the chair.
“Is everyting all right there?” Moya asked.
“Fine,” she replied shortly, uncertain how to react now.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you dis time, Elise. I hadn’t planned for dat to happen.”
“That’s okay.”
“Are you angry vit me?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. “I am worried about you, though.”
“Vy?”
“Your hands. One hand is stronger than the other. Have you told Dr. Frey about it?”
“No.”
“You must. I’m going to get him, and you’re going to explain every ache, pain, or other issue that might have a connection with your injury. That includes telling him about your hand strength.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a sharp salute.
Chapter 16
With Elise out of the room, Moya explained his problem to Dr. Frey. He didn’t know, however, that Elise was right outside the room listening.
“I can no longer do tings vit my left hand,” Moya said sadly. “I can’t hold anyting heavy. I couldn’t swing an axe or use a saw. I don’t know how I vill support a vife.”
“This may be temporary, Mr. Sten,” Dr. Frey told him, “just like I told you that your memory loss might be temporary.”
“And if my strengt never comes back? Vat vill I do?”
“When you first came to, you couldn’t speak English, either. Now listen to you. You’re doing quite well. I’m confident that you will regain your strength.”
“Until den, I can’t take a bride.”
“Is that what you want?”
“More dan anyting, but I can’t burden her.”
Elise wandered to the kitchen. Their conversation was making her nervous. Undoubtedly, Moya was speaking about her, and Dr. Frey probably knew it. Moya, however, had never spoken of marriage with her, and she couldn’t get her hopes up. Besides, Lars was courting her, as well; and Lars would undoubtedly fight for her hand. After all, he had asked her to come to Forestville so he could marry her—at least, that’s what he had told her.
But she didn’t want to marry him; she never had. He’d asked her to come and bring friends in his letter, but he’d not mentioned a thing about her marrying him in it. What bothered her most is that he intended to marry her without mentioning love.
Moya, on the other hand, told her that he loved her but hadn’t mentioned marriage.
A knock at the door startled her, and Elise went to answer it. To her dismay, Lars stood on the porch. She turned from the door as he entered.
“I went to Dr. Frey’s office earlier, Elise. I wanted to see how Moya was feeling. Dr. Frey told me that he’s come here to recuperate.”
“That’s true. Dr. Frey is with him right now.”
“Would you mind if I visit with him privately for a few minutes when Doc is done?”
“That would be Moya’s decision, not mine. When Dr. Frey leaves, I’ll ask Moya if he’s up to visitors.” Elise paused as Lars took off his coat and sat on a kitchen chair. “Would you like coffee while you wait?”
“Sure.”
Elise busied herself with the coffee to avoid talking to Lars. After what happened with Moya at the river and that afternoon, she wasn’t certain she wanted to so much as converse with Lars. If she didn’t, though, he would wonder what was wrong, and she definitely couldn’t tell him.
Taking some cream from the icebox, she set it and the mug of coffee before him, then she sat down on another chair and crossed her forearms on the table. They chatted about inconsequential things, with Lars telling her about how hard it was to saw through giant redwood trees without one of the strongest men on the crew. If Moya was gone much longer, Lars claimed, almost every man on the crew was going to be too sore to work.
Lars continued talking until Dr. Frey came out of her bedroom. Elise scrambled to her feet to greet him.
“How is he, Dr. Frey?” she asked in concern.
“Weak on one side, and he still can’t remember anything. I keep telling him that, if he does remember, he needs to let the sheriff know.”
“Why?” Lars asked.
“Because Moya was assaulted, and he needs to report it.”
“I thought a falling limb hit him.”
“That isn’t possible. He had no bark in his wound, and he would have if a limb had hit him.”
“Really? That’s odd because I threw a limb away from his head when I found him.”
“That’s why I know he was assaulted. No bark.” Dr. Frey turned to Elise and said, “He smelled the coffee you made and would like some—with cream and a spoon of sugar, he said.”
“All right,” she said, rising. “I’ll see if he would like to talk to you while I’m in there, Lars.”
“Thanks,” Lars replied.
Elise was gone only a couple of minutes when she returned to tell Lars that Moya would enjoy seeing somebody other than herself and the doctor. Lars went into the room alone, but Elise stayed out. For some reason, she had a bad feeling about his visit, and she didn’t want to be in the room to limit their conversation. She wanted to hear what they had to say to one another. With the doctor gone, she stole over to the bedroom door.
Lars started the conversation on a light note, saying, “How are you feeling, pal?”
“Tanks to de laudanum,” Moya replied. “I don’t have a lot of pain. It makes me tired and makes my mind muddled, but dat’s better dan hurting like I did.”
“I understand you’ve lost some of your strength. Does Doc think it will come back?”
“You aren’t here to ask about my healt,” Moya said. “You’re here to see vat I remember.”
“I understand you don’t remember anything. At least, that’s what Doc just told me.”
“Dat’s because Doc doesn’t know dat I remember. I remember very vell dat you argued vit me and told me dat somevon saw me at de river vit Elise. I remember dat you carried a board.” Moya paused before he announced his most damning memory. “Most important, I remember dat you said you vould kill me if I didn’t leave Elise alone.”
“You must have dreamed that,” Lars said. “Or it was a hallucination. Either way, I didn’t say it.”
“You said it, Lars. After you did, I told you dat I would never leave Elise. Dat’s ven I turned avay. Dat’s ven I saw you bring up the board. I tried to duck, but you still hit me. Yust before I blacked out, you said, ‘Die, you bastard.’ I remember it all.”
“But you didn’t die,” Lars said.
“No, I didn’t. Now you vill tell Elise dat you can’t court her anymore.”
“Why do you think I would do that?”
“Because if you don’t,” Moya replied firmly, “I vill tell de sheriff dat you tried to kill me. Dat vould be attempted murder. You vill tell Elise, and you vill never see her again. If you don’t, I vill have you arrested. Attempted murder has a yail sentence vit it.”
“That would alienate Elise completely.”
“I don’t know alienate, but I tink she vill tank me. Now leave, and leave de door open. I vant to hear you tell her.”
Elise hurried back to her seat in the kitchen. When Lars came out of the room a few seconds later, leaving the door open, he joined her.
“I hope you aren’t too upset, Elise,” he said. “I know I asked you to come all the way here, and you did it thinking w
e would marry, but I’ve found someone else.”
“Actually, Lars, I already suspected that,” she replied. “We’ve been growing apart for some time now. All I’ve ever wanted for you is for happiness, and if you’re happy with another woman, I’m happy for you.”
Chapter 17
“Vill du gifta dig med mig, Elise?” Moya asked, holding her hand as she sat beside him on the bed. Then he repeated the words in English. “Vill you marry me? I love you more than life itself, and I vant to spend de rest of my life vit you.”
She smiled. “I know for sure now, Moya. I love you, too. Ja, jag kommer gifta mig med dig. I will absolutely marry you. I don’t have a single reservation about it.”
“But I can’t use my hand vell. I can’t support you right now.”
“Then I’ll support you until you either heal or learn a new trade. You told me that you wanted to be a woodworker. Surely, you wouldn’t need nearly as much strength in your hand for that profession. Why don’t you try it?”
“Before we marry, dere’s someting you should know.”
“About Lars?” Moya nodded, and Elise added, “I already know. He is the one who attacked you. I won’t say anything about it because he released me. As long as he never bothers you again, I will keep silent on the matter. But, I’m warning you, if he tries to hurt you again, I will report it to the sheriff and Dr. Frey.”
“Tank, Elise.”
“You’re welcome. As soon as Dr. Frey gives his permission for you to be mobile again, we’ll get married in a small service, right here in this house. We’ll start our life where our love bloomed.”
“But Stina and Karin?” he asked in concern. “Vat vill become of dem?”
Pouting in the extreme, Elise teased him. “You’ve become a different man since your accident, Moya. You’re not nearly as cheerful.”
Apparently, he didn’t understand that she was taunting him, because he answered in a serious tone. “Does dat bodder you? If it does, you should know dat I can’t help it. The laudanum does funny tings to my mind. I sleep a lot, too.”
“You need that sleep to recover. Besides, I was just teasing you. You’ll get back to yourself someday. I have no doubt. Now, as to Stina and Karin, they can find their own man. The one lying in my bed is taken.”
THE END
Bridget and the Company Man
A Mail Order Bride Western
Book 2
(Can be read as a standalone book)
By: D.D. Boone
Bridget and the Company Man
Prologue
Bridget O’Riley was happier than she could have believed possible. Herb Clement had just told her that his cousin and her fiancé, Matthew Clement, wanted to show her the home he wanted to purchase for them to live in after their marriage.
Ever since she had chosen Matthew over Herb, Herb had shown her little attention, but Bridget assumed that was because she had hurt his feelings. She believed that he would come around and talk to her again. Apparently, that was the night he had changed his mind.
As he took her to the house in his family’s carriage, he chatted with her, explaining that Matthew wanted her to look over the building before he talked to her about it. He wanted to know her honest opinion of the place before they discussed buying it.
“He’ll be waiting for you upstairs in one of the bedrooms,” Herb told her as he pulled the horse to a stop in front of a two-story, narrow, red brick building. “I hope you like it. I’ll wait here to take you home.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Herb got out of the carriage and helped her from it. Bridget was confused. Why would Matthew want her to tour the house alone? She would still give him her honest opinion. And why would Herb wait for her? Why wouldn’t Matthew take her home? This was all very mysterious.
“Just walk on in, Bridget,” Herb said. “Matt said he would leave the door unlocked.”
“All right.”
Bridget mounted the brick steps and opened the door. To her surprise, the building was furnished. Did that mean that Matthew had already purchased it? Was this a wedding present to her? After a night in a hotel on their wedding day, they’d planned to live with her parents, although Matthew hadn’t been very happy about that. Maybe that’s why he was looking for a home of their own.
Making her way through the parlor, the dining room, and back to the kitchen, Bridget took in the small rooms. They were painted white and had furnishings appropriate, but Bridget wasn’t impressed. Still, it would be their home, which meant they wouldn’t be living with her parents. That in itself was nice.
She ascended the stairs off the foyer and went in search of Matthew. There were three open doors, two across from each other in the hallway with the doors open, and one at the end with the door closed. She peered into the two as she passed them. Again, they weren’t anything special, just a couple of small rooms already furnished with a bed, an armoire, a nightstand and a washstand. Even the quilts were basic.
Maybe he had furnished their bedroom nicer. Maybe that was why Matthew waited in it with the door closed.
As she approached the last room, she heard noises. Unsure of what to do, she opened the door slowly. There, on the bed before her, lay Matthew—completely naked and pumping into a woman lying beneath him with her feet planted firmly on the bed, her knees up and her legs spread to give him access.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, her heart breaking in that instant.
She raced from the building as Matthew called her name. She had no intention of ever talking to the man again. In her heart, she knew that Herb was aware of what was happening in that house. Why else would he have offered to wait for her? But she didn’t care. He was going to take her home, and she would have him tell Matthew that she never wanted to see him again.
***
At home, she wrote Matthew a letter calling off their engagement, and after crying about what happened with her mother, she asked that Mary take care of canceling the wedding plans.
Matthew had deceived her, had cheated on her, and had embarrassed her beyond belief just three weeks before their wedding. She would never marry a man who could cheat on her.
Her heart breaking, she sat down to write a letter to her best friend, who lived in Illinois. She couldn’t tell Elise everything, but she told her enough to let her know that the wedding was off and she no longer needed a maid of honor.
Chapter 1
Tearing into the envelope, Bridget could hardly wait to see what Elise Anderson was doing. It had been several weeks since she’d heard a word from her best friend, and she was anxious to find out how Elise liked Forestville, California. She’d never met anybody who had lived in California, but she’d heard it was really nice—no freezing cold weather like New York City and many sunny days. Now that Elise had been there for the change of seasons, Bridget wanted to know if what she’d heard was true.
“My dear friend,” the letter started.
Life in California is much different than in New York or Illinois. Autumn is more rainy than cold, and I understand that snow is a fluke in Forestville. It happens very rarely.
I am engaged now but not to the man I followed here. I’m engaged to a wonderful Swede, Moya Sten, who treats me like a queen. He is kind and giving and wants only the best for me. I would like to set a wedding date, but I can’t quite yet. I want you to be my maid of honor, just as you wanted me to be yours. We will make arrangements for a date after I know when it’s convenient for you to come.
Now that I’ve asked you to come, I have another announcement. My employer, Jared Coleman, has asked if I know of any women who might be interested in moving out here with the purpose of marrying him. He is 28 years old and has a 5-year-old daughter, whose mother died in childbirth. She is the sweetest, smartest child you could ever want to meet. (I’m teaching her Swedish, and she catches on right away.) Jared is kind and gentle. I can attest to this because I’ve seen him handle his daughter’s occasional temper tantrum. I truly think you t
wo would be a good match.
Please come to Forestville to stay. I would dearly love to have my “sister” near me again.
Elise had signed the letter, “Your sister in life.”
Bridget was thrilled for Elise, but she wasn’t sure her father would pay for her to go to California. That would be quite a sum of money, and as rich as he was, he did have his limits. Since she’d never had a job other than as a volunteer for the suffrage movement in New York City and had always helped her mother around the house, she depended on her father to support her. Despite her involvement in women’s rights, she needed her father’s permission to move.
At dinner that night, she broached the subject with trepidation.
“Da,” she said, “I need to ask you for a favor.”
“What is it, Sparky?” he asked, using her pet name. He called her that because, as he’d said many times, she always brought a spark of sunshine into his life.
“I got a letter from Elise today.”
Mary O’Riley interrupted. “How is she doing?”
“Well. She’s getting married, but she won’t set a date until she knows if I can be there.”
Patrick O’Riley smiled at his daughter. “Say no more. That is the favor, isn’t it? You want me to pay for you to go to your best friend’s wedding.”
“Would you, Da?”
“That’s a long trip for an unmarried woman. I understand rugged, uncouth men travel around to rob trains. There and back also costs a lot of money.”
“I know. I wish I had my own money to pay for it, but I don’t. I wish I could just pack up and go. I don’t know how I could repay you.”
“If one of your brothers will accompany you, I’ll agree.”
Bridget hated to bring it up, but she knew she must. “Um, there’s one more thing. I, uh, want to, um, stay there.”
“What?” Mary exclaimed. “Never! I can’t let my only daughter leave forever.”