Mail-Order Mismatch
Brides Of Burlington County
Amelia St. James
Copyright © 2020 by Amelia St. James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Dad, for sharing your love of God, Westerns, and writing.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Mail-Order Masquerade
About the Author
Also by Amelia St. James
Prologue
Angelica Truman’s hand clung to Elly’s arm as they watched the porter load Angelica’s trunk onto the train, her heart pounding with sadness and excitement. She was going to become a bride, and if everything went well, she’d leave her past behind for good. Looking over at Elly, she swallowed hard and tried to smile.
“What’s wrong?” Elly’s concerned face peered at her beneath a colorful hat, the only concession she’d made since donning her widow’s garb. “If you’ve changed your mind, you don’t have to go. We’ll find you the perfect match.”
Angelica looked down, trying to blink back the sudden rush of tears that caught her by surprise. Finding acceptance and safety with Elly and the other ladies at her boardinghouse for mail-order brides had been a blessing. And Angelica’s future groom, Holden Jamieson, seemed like the perfect match. He mentioned in his letter that he was homely, and she hoped fervently that he wouldn’t mind the jagged scar trailing along the side of her face.
Shaking her head slightly, Angelica said, “It occurred to me that I’ll miss the birth of your babe. I wish I could meet your little one, but I know Holden is the right match for me.”
Patting her hand, Elly said, “I will miss you terribly. We’ll write to each other, and if you need to come home, I’ll help you get back.”
A tear slipped down Angelica’s cheek, the trail of moisture making her scar itch. Swiping at the jagged imperfection and resettling her blonde waves to cover it, she cleared her throat before attempting to speak. She hadn’t expected to feel like Burlington County had become home, especially after the frosty reception she received when she’d first arrived at Moorestown.
“Thank you, Elly.” Angelica stared down at Elly’s full, black skirt and tried to ignore the pang of sadness she felt welling up. “I pray I’ll see you again, but I hope this groom agrees to marry me once he sees me in person."
Elly gasped. “Why wouldn’t he? You’re one of the most darling women I’ve ever met.”
Sniffling, Angelica averted her eyes. “Because of this.” She ran her fingers along her jawline, shuddering when she recalled the night that left her scarred for life.
Elly looked up at Angelica and smiled. “You’re beautiful, for many reasons. When you feel comfortable and relaxed, that’s when your real beauty shines through. Holden will love you for that, or he’s not the right man to cherish you as you deserve.”
Knots formed in Angelica’s stomach. She had one chance to make this right or her whole world would collapse in on her. A sudden thought took her breath away. “Elly, promise me something!” She took a calming breath, trying to ease the panic out of her voice when she spoke again. “Please.”
Alarm had replaced Elly’s look of nostalgia. “What’s wrong?”
“If someone comes looking for me, promise me that you won’t tell them where I’ve gone.”
Elly gripped her arm tightly. “What exactly is going on?”
“Ma’am, we’re boarding the train now.” The porter nodded his head respectfully, then disappeared behind the throng of passengers pushing their way onto the train.
Turning back to Elly, she smiled and said, “It’s not anything to worry about. Please promise me.”
Elly nodded as a man jostled her, her hands moving quickly to her abdomen as she tried to dodge the growing crowd. “I promise.”
Tears slipped down Angelica’s cheeks again, reminding her how much she had come to care for her newfound friends in such a short time. “I’ll miss you terribly.”
Elly smiled, blinking back tears as she raised her chin stoically. “I’ll miss you, too! I’ll write to you!”
“Me, too!” Angelica paused long enough to take a lingering look at Elly before the momentum of the other passengers boarding pushed her forward. Elly’s farewell and the last comfort of home faded as she began the journey to her new life as Holden Jamieson’s bride.
Chapter One
August, 1869
Angelica watched the wild grass ripple with the wind through the small train window, excitement bubbling up as she neared her destination. Her future held a lot of unknowns, and only one certainty—her past was unlikely to follow her all the way to the Territory of Wyoming. She was soon to be Holden’s bride, and the name Angelica Jamieson felt like the new beginning she so desperately needed.
She pulled Holden’s letter from her skirt pocket, relishing the words she had already memorized. His neat handwriting was comforting, as was his description of himself. He was tall, strong, and most importantly, homely.
Almost involuntarily, her right hand reached for the scar that ran along the border of her jaw, stretching up to her ear. It was a constant reminder of what she had run from, but she’d come to a begrudging acceptance of it after a few years of surviving on her own. The scar had become a sign of her willingness to stand up for what she believed in, and she no longer regretted having it.
It was the reaction others had that gave her pause. First came the gasp of awareness, then the open curiosity. It seemed that complete strangers almost always felt as though they had a right to pry into her past.
Feeling eyes on her, Angelica cautiously glanced around. An older woman who had been napping across from her smiled.
Raising a tanned, wrinkled hand, the woman said, “It will soften with time.” She motioned towards Angelica’s face. “The scar. They always do.” She nodded, seeming to indicate that she had decided it was so, and that was final. “I’m Mrs. Lawrence Bisbee, but you can call me Inez. Mr. Bisbee passed on years ago.”
Despite her wariness, Angelica returned her smile. “I’m Angelica.”
“Pleased to meet you, young lady.” The older woman had turned her attention to a bag at her side, pulling out a pair of knitting needles. She began working deftly on a small blue sweater, looking up again once she had established a comfortable rhythm. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m getting off at the next stop, near Fort Laramie.”
Inez studied Angelica; her lips pursed for a moment as she seemed to withdraw slightly. “You’re not going to the Hog Ranch, are you?”
Shaking her head, Angelica said, “No, ma’am. I’m not sure where that is.”
Inez’s shoulders relaxed a little, and her smile returned. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. That’s no place for a lady like you. My son and grandson live near Bighorn Holler, not far from Fort Laramie. I came to live here when David’s wife died birthing Thomas. He’s three now, and David hasn’t remarried. There are not many women willing to move out to such wild country.”
Angelica’s hands gripped the letter, wondering for the first time if she had been hasty. She’d been so anxious to leave her past behind that she hadn’t given much thought to the safety of her new home.
Angelica felt comforted by Elly’s reassurance that Holden was known to have a good reputation, but she knew very little about Wyoming.
“What brought you out here? Is there a special someone waiting for you?” Inez asked.
A smile tugged at Angelica’s lips. A tingle of warmth filled her cheeks at the thought of Holden. “I’m getting married.”
Inez chuckled. “I should have guessed that. You’re glowing like a shiny new penny. Who is the lucky groom?”
“Holden Jamieson.” Angelica slipped the letter back into her pocket, wanting more than anything to hold onto the hope and excitement it brought.
Brows furrowed, Inez said, “He’s been holed up at his cattle ranch, working day and night since he settled out here, at least from what I know. How did he have time to find a woman to marry?”
Heat filled Angelica’s cheeks. She stared down at her lap, noticing for the first time how dusty her skirts had become since she’d started her journey. With dismay, she realized how disheveled her hair must be.
Suddenly, more self-conscious than intent on the conversation, she wished she had time to bathe properly before meeting Holden. Looking up, her weak smile faltered. “I’m his mail-order bride.”
Brows raised, Inez said, “I see. What do you know about Holden?”
“Well, as you said, he’s a cattle rancher. He’s young and strong and homely, and seems nice enough, from what I’ve read.”
“He’s a fine man of character, but I don’t think he’s…”
The train slowed, the shift in speed jostling them both. Inez quickly wrapped up her yarn and needles, shoving them into her bag. She stood, carefully balancing as she made her way over to Angelica and took the empty seat next to her. Speaking in a cheerful tone, she said, “You ought to straighten up a little before we get off the train. Here, I’ll help you.”
Inez retrieved a wooden-handled brush out of her bag and waved for her to turn. She gently brushed Angelica’s blonde waves, resettling them around her shoulders. The nurturing woman reminded Angelica of her own mother and sadness creeped into her tangle of emotions as the train braked. She cleared her throat, trying to focus instead on the bustle of passengers vying to leave the train.
“You seem sad.” Inez remained seated, waiting patiently for Angelica.
“I was just thinking about my parents, wishing they could be here for my wedding day.”
“Ah, I see. Would it help any if I stay with you while you wait for your intended?” Inez’s eyes filled with worry. She reached out and patted Angelica’s hand.
“Thank you, that would be nice.” Through the window, Angelica could see the crowded platform. She wondered which man waited for her, feeling awkward about not even knowing what Holden looked like. She only knew he was tall with brown hair and blue eyes. Most of the men waiting wore hats, which concealed their faces from her.
Heart pounding, Angelica gripped the handle of her carpetbag and stood, grateful Inez had stayed with her. The older woman smiled, stood, and grasped Angelica’s arm. “Come on, now. Don’t keep Holden waiting. He’s a fine man, and you’ll be glad you braved the trip.”
Her stomach did flip-flops as her shoes touched the wooden platform, but Angelica held her head high. She clung to the hope that she’d found her perfect match where no one from her past would come looking for her, and the thought propelled her forward.
Tugging on her arm, Inez pointed and said, “There’s your groom!”
The crowd had thinned enough to leave no doubt in Angelica’s mind who Inez had singled out. Tall and muscular, Holden’s sky-blue eyes met hers. He was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, and her heart dropped.
Chapter Two
Holden searched the crowd for his bride to be, smiling when he saw Inez had befriended a sophisticated-looking young woman during her travels. Not wanting to be rude, he waved and looked away, hoping to find his bride quickly before she was kept waiting after her long train ride.
He hadn’t been told much about her, except that she was a textile worker who was looking for a life away from the factory. He expected a woman who survived the long, hard shifts in a textile mill could handle life on his cattle ranch, though he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing a woman to the wilds of Wyoming.
Inez waved excitedly and smiled, pulling the woman along with her as she briskly walked toward him. The platform had cleared, leaving only the two women in front of him, and he frowned. His bride must have been delayed, or else she had taken the ticket fare and run.
Slapping his hat against his thigh to remove dust, he resettled it on his head and smiled to hide his disappointment as the women neared.
“Mrs. Bisbee, good to see you.” He grinned, knowing she would give him the usual spark of fire over his greeting, and she didn’t disappoint.
“Holden, you’re practically family, and I insist you call me Inez!” She waved her finger as she scolded him, softening her rebuke with a smile. “Speaking of family, I’ve made fast friends with your bride.”
Holden’s grin faded as he shifted his attention to the woman at Inez’s side. His cheeks warmed with the realization that he hadn’t introduced himself. He studied her soft blonde waves and gentle brown eyes, and his mouth went dry. “You must be mistaken.” His words landed more harshly than he’d intended, and the woman flinched slightly. Instantly regretting his words, he sighed. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
Inez glared at him while the woman averted her eyes and reached for her face. She towered over Inez but still seemed fragile as she stroked her cheek. She seemed too fearful to make eye contact, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d have to send her back. It was the most humane thing to do. A timid woman wouldn’t survive.
“Holden Jamieson, where have your manners gone?” Inez glared sharply as she patted the woman’s arm. “Angelica, meet Holden. Holden, say something to your bride before I cut you off from my cooking for good!”
Holden swallowed hard, his palms sweaty as he searched for the most polite way to send Angelica home. “Pleased to meet you, Angelica.”
“Likewise, Mr. Jamieson.” The woman looked up, meeting his gaze with a challenge in her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a pink, jagged scar along her jaw. The look in her eyes was hard to read, but her posture radiated a quiet strength he hadn’t noticed before.
He stared longer than he should have, certainly longer than was polite. She continued to boldly meet his gaze while Inez shuffled uncomfortably at her side. The woman had fight in her. Her spirit hadn’t been broken by whatever had left the scar, and he found himself smiling. He held his arm out and said, “Shall we gather your luggage?”
A shadow of confusion passed over Angelica’s face, clearing quickly. She nodded. “I would like that.”
Inez clapped her hands together. “Well, it looks like you both can take it from here.” She stared at Holden, her eyebrows raised. “I expect you to protect your bride’s reputation. You ought to get Preacher to make things official before you even think about taking her off to your ranch.”
She gave him a lingering, pointed glare before reaching up to pat his cheek. “I’ll drop off a meal after Sunday sermon, real quiet-like, so I don’t disturb you two.” She winked before spinning at Angelica’s gasp, giving her a brisk hug before walking away.
Holden smiled after Inez, shaking his head at her candor. It was nearly impossible to predict what the woman would say next, and she kept everyone in town on their toes. He turned to face the stranger he had agreed to marry, his smile fading when he saw how red her cheeks were. Clearing his throat, he searched for an excuse for Inez but came up empty. They had stalled long enough that the platform was empty, except for a single, battered trunk. “Is that yours?”
“Yes, it is.” Angelica walked to her luggage, her long stride natural as she confidently kept pace with him.
He smiled again. For some reason, she was keeping him a little off-guard, and he liked it. She awkwardly shifted her carpetbag as she clasped the trunk handle, his embarrassment burning hot.
“Whoa, there. I’ll take that.” He reached for the handles, his hand brushing hers. Her touch tingled like he’d gotten too close to the fire without the pain. He blew out a breath and reminded himself to stop being distracted. “My wagon is straight ahead. I’ll load this for you and take you to the preacher’s house.”
He lifted her trunk, surprised at how light it was. She’d moved across the country with what felt like very little gear. He glanced back at her, making a mental note to order her some winter clothing...if she decided to stay. She was lagging behind him now, making him wonder if she was already regretting getting off the train. “You coming?”
“I am.” She crossed her arms, her white-knuckle grip signaling to him that she had spoken more confidently than she felt.
Mail-Order Mismatch: Brides of Burlington County, Book Two Page 1