Mail Order Bride: Montana Bride (A Clean Inspirational Historical New Adult Romance)

by Nathan Adams

   Copyright 2016 by Nathan Adams - All rights reserved.

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  Montana Bride

  Clean Western Mail Order Bride

  By: Nathan Adams

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  Introduction

  Thank you for purchasing my short story, all of my books contain bonus stories. You may locate these in the Table of Contents. Don’t forget to sign up for my email list for weekly free books.

  Table of Contents

  MAIN STORY:

  By: Nathan Adams

  Montana Bride

  Bonus Books

  The Heart Series

  Western Mail Order Brides

  Mail Order Brides with Babies

  Regency Romance

  BestSeller Bonus Bronson’s Bride

  Montana Bride

  Chapter One

  There was a crystal chandelier that hung just above the dancing couples, casting them all in diamond rays of light. It was a beautiful scene, framed by clusters of flowers and mirrors that looked as though they were ten feet tall. It was an elegant visage, and yet, despite Rachel’s direct gaze, it could not hold her attention.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” Miranda asked as she came up behind Rachel.

  Rachel shrugged as she passed her mother a cursory glance. “I don’t want to.”

  “Don’t shrug,” Miranda said severely. “A lady does not shrug.”

  “Oh mother,” Rachel sighed. “No one cares.”

  Miranda shot her a stern look. “I’ll thank you to conduct yourself with propriety in the company of our friends.”

  Rachel couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped her. “Friends?” she said sceptically. “They are hardly our friends.”

  “Lower your tone,” Miranda whispered. “Or someone will hear you.”

  “I really don’t care,” Rachel shot back defiantly.

  Miranda moved in front of her, concealing the dancing couples that Rachel had been watching. “What is wrong with you this evening?” she asked in her no-nonsense tone.

  “I didn’t want to come tonight,” Rachel said flatly.

  “And why not?” her mother asked.

  “Because I have to endure the same monotonous evening over and over again. I’m tired of it. There’s nothing… new to see, there’s nothing interesting. It’s the same old people, saying the same old things. Gossip, gossip, and more gossip, that’s all anyone ever does at these events. That’s all people ever do in this society.”

  “Really Rachel,” Miranda said in shocked whispers. “Is that any way to talk?”

  “It’s the truth,” Rachel said, looking directly at her mother for emphasis.

  Her mother fixed her with a stony gaze. “Once you have married and settled down, all this silly talk of monotony and boredom will cease, and you will at last become a part of society.”

  Rachel shook her head. “You don’t understand mother,” she said wearily. “Even if I were to marry, it would change nothing. My life would be exactly the same, I would manage the house and the staff, and I would wear pretty dresses and go to dances and dinners and partake in the gossip of the night.”

  Miranda all but raised her hands in frustration. “And what on earth is the matter with that?”

  “There’s nothing here mother,” Rachel said gently. “There’s no real living to be done here. There’s no adventure, no sense that life means something.”

  “You are being very silly,” Miranda said with a shake of her head. “And ungrateful. You’re father and I have done everything to make sure you want for nothing.”

  “And while I appreciate all that you and papa have done for me, I long to venture out on my own, and live my life.”

  Miranda reached out and pushed back a loose lock of Rachel’s hair. “It is not proper for a respectable woman to ‘venture out on her own’. While you are unmarried, you’re place is with your father and I. And once we have found you a suitable partner, then you will be able to have the adventure you crave.”

  Rachel gave her mother a look of disbelief. “Adventure?” she repeated. “It will be the same life in a different house. It will be your life mother.”

  Miranda looked at Rachel carefully. “I think it is high time you were married. What you need is not adventure. What you need is a husband.”

  She turned and walked away before Rachel could respond, her rust-colored satin dress catching the lights from the chandelier overhead. Rachel knew that she would never be able to make her mother understand where she was coming from. There was no way to explain to her parents that the life they had lived and loved was not the one that she desired for herself. She saw her future if she stayed where she was, and she could almost feel the color draining from her life.

  It was while she was standing there in the shadows of the ballroom, that Rachel considered the possibility that her mother may be right about one thing; perhaps she did need a husband. Not a man like those who stood before her, men who attended dances and courted young ladies and cared about their clothes. No, she would need a different man, a man who could liberate her from the claustrophobia of her current situation and give her the freedom she craved.

  Rachel stared around the crowded ballroom and the scene before her faded away as a new possible future took shape before her. It was a bold decision, but Rachel understood that she would never achieve what she desired if she wasn’t willing to be bold. Adventure had never been for the faint-hearted.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel had never set eyes on a place like Montana before. It stretched on for miles and miles without end. The sky seemed bigger, the air seemed cleaner, and the colors seemed brighter.

  “Can I give you a ride somewhere ma’am?”

  Rachel turned in the direction of the drawling older gentleman that stood before her. He was wearing dirty grey trousers and suspenders that looked as though they had seen better days. He had a brilliant handlebar moustache that hid a kind smile.

  “No, no thank you,” Rachel said hurriedly. “I’m waiting for someone actually. His name is Cole Dalton.”

  “Why, you must be his new bride,” the man said as his eyes lit up with delight. “And as pretty as a picture you are.”

  Rachel inclined her head at the compliment but she couldn’t summon the usual delight. She was starting to feel the heat and her legs had begun to ache. “Do you know how far Mr Dalton’s ranch is?” she asked, wondering if she would be forced to make the journey there alone.

  “Too far for walking ma’am,” the man replied. “I can take you there in the evening.”

  Rachel was considering the offer when a horse and buggy pulled up a few feet away from where she stood. The horse’s hooves kicked up such a storm of sand that Rachel had to shield her eyes and take a step back. She was wiping the dirt from her eyes when a high pitched little voice called her name.

  “Are you the Parker woman? Rachel Parker?”

  Rachel felt herself bristle at the undignified manner in which she had been addressed, but she straightened herself up and looked towards the rider. Where she had expected a young man with a high voice
, she was faced with a small boy in dirt-stained trousers and a straw hat. She composed herself quickly and masked her surprise, a trait that she was glad her mother had so effectively ingrained into her.

  “Yes,” Rachel nodded with dignity. “I am Rachel Parker.”

  “Hop on then,” the boy said abruptly. “We best be getting on.”

  Rachel moved towards the buggy and looked at it with panic rising in her breast. There was no way she could get into it with anything close to dignity. She maintained an air of unconcern, as she turned to the seated boy who was regarding her with a steely blue-eyed gaze.

  “You will need to help me with my things,” Rachel said.

  He rolled his eyes without bothering to mask the expression and jumped down from the carriage. His hat flew off mid jump and a tumble of dark brown hair spilled free. Rachel felt her breath catch as she realized that he was not a boy at all.

  “Dear Lord,” Rachel exclaimed. “You’re a little girl.”

  “There ain’t nothing little about me,” the child snapped at her, her blue eyes blazing as she stepped forward and grabbed Rachel’s bag. She threw it unceremoniously into the trap and looked at Rachel threateningly, as though daring her to make another observation.

  Rachel heard a chuckle behind her and the older gentleman who had spoken to her earlier stepped forward.

  “Don’t mind the chikkabiddy,” he said. “She may look wild, but she doesn’t bite.”

  “How would you know?” the girl asked, as she grabbed a hold of the horse’s reins and jumped back into her seat with catlike grace.

  He ignored the comment and offered a hand to Rachel to help her into the wagon. She accepted his help gratefully and managed to climb into the shaky cart and onto its sand strewn seat. “Thank you so much for your help sir,” Rachel said.

  “The name’s Isaiah Pickett ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat. “It was a pleasure indeed.”

  Impatient with the exchange, the girl spurred the horse forward, kicking up another whirlwind of sand as they made their way through the main town. Rachel swallowed back her thirst, wishing that she could lean back into a cushioned backrest without fear of smudging her dress.

  “It was right stupid of you to wear white,” the girl said without bothering to turn her head.

  Rachel’s journey had been long and hard and her patience was at its end. She wasn’t sure why her new husband had thought it fit to hire a child to work on his ranch, but if it were to be so, she would have to take it upon herself to teach the child respect.

  “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” she said curtly. “Now how much longer to the ranch?”

  “Awhile,” the girl replied.

  Rachel sighed but didn’t insist upon an elaboration. She was too tired to attempt discipline at that particular moment. The journey to the ranch took longer than she had anticipated, but when they finally turned a sharp bend in the road, Rachel saw miles and miles of green grass, enclosures, and cattle grazing in the furthest field.

  It was so picturesque that for just a moment, she forgot her fatigue and gave into admiration. The ranch house was smaller than she had expected, but it looked sturdy and full of character. Rachel managed to get off the wagon by herself and she was dusting off her skirts when she heard someone approach.

  The man coming towards her was tall, broad-shouldered, and lean. He had a long face that hollowed in at the cheeks and sharp blue eyes that pierced Rachel at first glance. He was younger than she had expected and more handsome than she had dared hope. The only thing that unsettled her was his lack of smile. He gazed at her with unblinking curiosity, making her blush under his scrutiny.

  Rachel was suddenly painfully aware of her own appearance and she felt the need to run her fingers through her hair or pinch her cheeks for color. She stayed her hand and thanked God for her golden hair and her ash-grey eyes. They were features that didn’t require grooming or highlighting to be considered beautiful.

  “Good evening ma’am,” he said, stopping short a few feet from where she stood.

  “You may call me Rachel,” she said. After all, he was to be her husband.

  “Rachel then,” he nodded. “I’m Cole.”

  “Yes, I know,” Rachel said with a smile.

  A large thud drew Rachel’s attention as her bag was thrown to the ground from the wagon. “Dear Lord, be careful with that,” she exclaimed to the girl. “Everything I own is in that bag.”

  The girl jumped out of the wagon and looked at her with those too-blue eyes. “You can take it in yourself then,” she said before running toward the stables at full speed. Rachel took a deep breath and turned to her new husband, hoping to hear him reprimand the child in some way. Instead, he was gazing after her with some expression that Rachel found difficult to decipher.

  “This is a big change for her,” Cole said quietly. “I’m sure you understand.”

  Rachel looked at him in confusion. “Understand what exactly?”

  “She’s used to it being just the two of us,” Cole went on as he continued to stare after the girl. “She’s finding it hard to adjust to my re-marrying.”

  Rachel turned her head and saw the child disappear into the stables. Slowly, realization dawned.

  “My wife died two years ago,” Cole went on as though he were talking to himself. “Jane was only seven.”

  The child was no ranch hand; she was Rachel’s new stepdaughter.

  Chapter Three

  Her room was small, tiny compared to the one she had been used to back at home, but Rachel welcomed the change. It reinforced the fact that she was no longer nestled in the bosom of a predictable life. Her mind flew fleetingly to her parents but she pushed away the memory of their parting and prayed that one day they would be able to forgive her.

  Rachel had one small window nestled in the very centre of her room, but it let in a stream of bright light that threw everything into high relief. She settled her bag beside the chest of drawers that stood next to her dressing table, and took a seat in front of the mirror. Her face looked pale and her grey eyes seemed lacklustre. A moment later, there was a knock on her door and Rachel rose from the chair.

  “Yes?” she called.

  The door opened and Jane walked in. She was dressed in the same dirty trousers and her hair was well and truly matted from wearing the hat. She skulked into the room and looked at Rachel’s possessions as though they had no right to be there.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  “I am yes,” Rachel replied.

  Jane nodded and turned to leave.

  “Wait Jane,” Rachel said quickly. “Please don’t go just yet. I wanted to talk to you.”

  The child hesitated for a moment as though she were not sure whether or not to ignore the request.

  “Please Jane,” Rachel said gently.

  Slowly, Jane turned back around.

  “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how things started between us,” Rachel began tentatively. “I was tired and I thought –"

  “You thought I was a servant,” Jane interrupted.

  “No… I… well… you were dressed-” Rachel stuttered.

  “This is how I always dress,” Jane said defiantly.

  “May I ask why?”

  “You can’t work in a dress,” Jane replied, casting her eyes over Rachel’s skirts with contempt. “You’ll hardly get anything done in that fancy dress.”

  “This is my simplest dress,” Rachel said and she saw Jane’s eyes go round with disbelief. “Well,” she continued trying to infuse some sense of enthusiasm into her tone. “I know that I don’t exactly fit in here just yet, but you will just have to teach me.”

  “I got no time to teach you,” Jane said immediately.

  “Well I suppose you will have to teach me through example then,” Rachel said brightly.

  “What?” Jane looked at her in confusion.

  “It means that I will watch you work and copy what you do,” Rachel explained
.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Jane said bluntly.

  “Come now,” Rachel said struggling to keep the smile on her face. “We must try and get along for your father’s sake. I’m sure in time we’ll be the best of friends.”

  Jane looked unimpressed by these words. “There’s food in the kitchen,” she said sourly before she turned on her heel and left.

  Rachel walked over to her window and peered outside. The ranch spread out before her, serene and rustic. She could see a few ranch hands in an enclosure with some horses, and in the middle of them all stood Cole. He approached a brilliant grey horse and stroked the animal gently. Then, in one graceful move, he mounted the horse without any assistance. There was no saddle or bridle, no rein or spurs, just the animal’s tan mane for support.

  He started off at a slow trot and before long he was cantering around the enclosure as his ranch hands scattered. Rachel watched the way he handled the horse. It appeared almost effortless. Then she saw a smaller figure running toward the enclosure and she recognized Jane immediately. The child jumped over the fence, landing nimbly on her feet, mounted a horse in much the same way her father had.

  It was a foreign world Rachel found herself in and the people in it were equally puzzling. There was a hardness in them borne out of hard work and difficult circumstances, and Rachel had never been more aware of her own closeted lifestyle, nestled in the heart of luxury and comfort. Panic rose in her gut as she wondered how she was going to survive here. Perhaps she had overestimated her own capabilities. Perhaps she had been so blinded by the monotony of her life that she had made a hasty decision.

  Rachel stared at father and daughter, galloping on their horses in the distance. She could not deny the connection she sensed between them. They were a family and she wondered momentarily if there was any room for her within it.

  Chapter Four