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

by Nathan Adams

  Michael was already at the bank, his eyes terrified as he reached out for Rebekah. Asha hauled the child up, and Michael grabbed her, pulling her onto dry land before turning back around to grab Asha. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her up to the shore, but the water made her hand slick and difficult to hold.

  As his fingers started to slip, one by one, their eyes met and Asha saw the regret in them. She could have died happy knowing he didn't blame her for the death of his wife anymore. She could die happy now that Michael knew and believed that she was a kind, loving person who would happily give up her own life for a child. She could have died happy, but today wasn’t her day.

  Michael lunged forward, half falling into the river himself in order to grab her and pull her up out of the water. When the wind hit her, it was worse than the water could have ever been. It burned her skin and seeped into her core, causing her to cry out when she fell over on top of Michael. He’d only been half submerged, so he was still warm to some extent. She curled up against him, shivering violently as he rubbed her arms.

  “Asha, Asha, can you walk?” he asked, glancing over at his daughter nervously.

  It took every bit of her strength, but Asha managed to push herself up into a standing position. Michael lifted Rebekah over his shoulder and put his free arm around Asha to stabilize her. They stumbled up the snowy path together, Asha’s teeth chattering so hard she was afraid they might shatter. The walk to the house felt like it was miles even though it was probably only a few yards.

  They finally stumbled into the house, and Asha fell forward, her entire world going black as she finally gave into the sweet, warm arms of unconsciousness.

  When Asha woke up there was a warm, wet cloth being pressed to her forehead. Her eyes shot open and she gasped, jolting forward, eyes wide and arms stretched out into the darkness.

  “Rebekah!”

  Michael put a hand on her shoulder and gently urged her to lay back. “Rebekah is fine. Thanks to you,” he said with a gentle smile.

  “She’s OK?” Asha whispered, slowly lying back onto the bed she’d been sleeping in every night since her arrival.

  Michael didn’t trust her, but he’d allowed her to share his bed, knowing that he was a light sleeper, and if she tried anything funny, he’d wake up and catch her long before she could hurt anyone. She looked around the room, finding the window in the darkness. It was nighttime, and the only light in the room was a candle that sat on the bedside table, casting a yellow glow across Michael’s handsome face. She couldn’t help but admire him.

  He dabbed the cloth over her forehead and sighed. “You’re finally starting to break your fever.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say. There seemed to be an awkward tension between them.

  “I was scared, Asha. I’m not the type of man to readily admit that I’m frightened, but I was really scared for a minute.”

  Her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, taking him in. “You were scared?”

  “I was afraid I wasn’t going to get a chance to tell you thank you, and that I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for saving her. I care about her, too, you know.”

  “No, I mean thank you for being patient with me.”

  She smiled a little and nodded. “I’ve lost loved ones, too. I know it’s different, but I still know that it hurts.”

  He nodded and watched her closely. “I misjudged you, Asha. I should have been more accepting. I’m ashamed of myself that it took me nearly losing you and my daughter to realize that.”

  Asha reached up and touched his check, his beard feeling warm and soft under her cold fingers. “That means a lot, Michael. I only ever wanted you to see me as a good woman. I know this situation is just a business transaction, but I wanted us to at least care about each other.”

  Michael paused a moment and then nodded slowly. “I think I would like that. I know I need to learn to let her go. I know that. I just hope that you can be patient enough with me and give me the chance I never gave you.”

  “You are too hard on yourself Michael. Now come lie down. It’s late, and it’s been a long day.”

  Michael nodded and crawled into the bed, blowing out the candle. They settled beside each other silently, both staring into the darkness. Asha was as far to one side as she could be and so was Michael. A moment of silence passed, and his hand creeped down her arm until their fingers were twined.

  Asha’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she smiled softly, squeezing his hand and allowing herself to finally doze off, happy and elated at the reassuring contact. Maybe things were going to be different.

  Chapter Seven

  Asha’s life after the incident at the river was far better than she could have ever imagined. At first she’d been afraid that the conversation was a dream and that when she awoke he would be angry with her for allowing Rebekah that close to the river in the first place. She’d been afraid that being sent back to Iron Mountain was going to be a very real possibility.

  When the sun came up the next morning, however, she found that Michael wrapped himself around her in the night, his nose buried in her soft, black hair as he slept peacefully. It offered her a safety and reassurance she’d never thought she’d ever feel.

  Christmas was creeping closer and closer, and Michael and Asha found themselves spending more time together. When there was nothing to do in the house, Asha would go outside to help Michael with the livestock, no longer afraid that she might make him angry or drive him further away by trying to be more involved in his life.

  She proved to him that she could care for a farm just as well as he could, and when they finished feeding and herding the cattle for the night, they’d sit down as a family and Asha would read to them from one of her books. Michael would by her a new one every time he went into town, praying that it was a good one (he’d never learned to read beyond the basics).

  It was Christmas Eve, and everyone was settled in for the evening, wrapped in blankets and sipping melted chocolate with a touch of cream. A rich stew boiled on the fire, and they ate and drank happily as Asha read A Christmas Carol to her gathered family. She liked to consider them her family now. Michael never said that he wasn’t going to send her back, but she felt like it was a promise that was unspoken.

  Even though they still weren’t technically married —they’d never signed the marriage certificate—Asha felt like they were a family and that she and Michael were slowly falling in love. Neither of them spoke of it, but when they looked in each other’s eyes, there was a silent adoration and what she thought might be romance.

  Asha sighed and closed the book, the pad of her thumb running along the gilded pages. Rebekah was curled up by the fire, her mess of golden hair splayed around her as she snored softly, clinging to a stuffed rabbit. She was curled up underneath the small Christmas tree that they’d decorated only a few days before.

  Michael scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed, laying her down and stroking her hair and smiling softly as he kissed the top of her head and covered her up, protecting her from the chill of the night. As he climbed back down the ladder, he offered his hand to Asha and smiled.

  “We should go to sleep so that Christmas morning will come sooner.”

  Asha took his hand, their finger tangled together as the warmth of the fire surrounded them. “I think that sounds lovely, Mr. Sanders.”

  As the climbed into bed together and snuggled underneath the blanket, Michael wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight enough that she knew he was never going to let her go. As she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, she knew that she was in love.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Asha and Michael woke up early enough to sneak a few presents under the tree for Rebekah. They crawled back into bed and barely slipped back into sleep before the little girl launched herself between them, gasping.

  “Papa! Asha! Santa came last night!”

 
; Asha sat up and rubbed her eyes, pretending to be sleeping and disoriented. “Did he?”

  “He did! There are presents under the tree!”

  Rebekah jumped off the bed and ran into the living room, her grey eyes sparkling with excitement as she jumped up and down, squealing happily and pointing to the small pile of presents that appeared under the tree, carefully wrapped with shining bows placed atop the packages. Rebekah was jumping up and down, looking over her shoulder at her father and Asha, who were still in their pajamas and wrapped in blankets to fend off the cold that was leaking into the cabin through tiny cracks.

  Michael walked over to the fireplace and lit the fire, nodding towards Rebekah once the flames were roaring and warming up the small cabin.

  “All right, child, open your presents. Let’s see what Santa brought you.”

  Rebekah tore into her presents with the veracity that only a child would have, tossing the foil wrapping on the floor as she opened her presents one by one. Asha made sure the girl got a few books and a new dress. Her father was a bit more practical and bought her a new winter coat. The present she was most excited for, however, was a bow and arrow set she’d been looking at in the window of a local hunting shop.

  When she pulled the final pieces of wrapping paper off the bow and arrow, her eyes lit up and she held it out to show Asha and Michael.

  “Papa, I can go hunting with you now,” she gasped, her eyes wide as she cradled the bow to her chest, running her hands along the smooth, lacquered wood.

  “You sure can. Santa must have known how bad you wanted to go duck hunting this year.”

  Rebekah beamed and ran over to Michael, throwing her chubby arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks.

  “I can’t wait to start practicing, Papa.” She released Michael and went to Asha, hugging her close as well. “You’re going to help me read better, aren’t you? That’s why you bought me my very own books?”

  Asha smiled and rubbed her back, nodding and kissing her temple. “Of course I will,” she said with a nod.

  Rebekah pulled away and started to clean up all the pieces of paper that were scattered around the room. She gathered all of her presents, settling at her father’s feet to flip through the books as Asha stood to start breakfast.

  Before she could get too far, Michael reached out and took her wrist gently, smiling up at her. “Wait,” he said gently, pulling her back down to sit. “There’s one more present.”

  Asha blinked, clearly confused by his statement. Michael walked over to the tree and pulled a rolled up paper from the branches, walking over to Asha and handing it to her. Asha blinked but took the paper and carefully untied the silky, red ribbon. It fell to the ground, and she unrolled the paper, her heart stopping as her eyes widened.

  The paper was the marriage license they never filled out. One line was already signed with a masculine scribble. She immediately recognized it as Michael’s signature, and her eyes filled with tears as she covered her mouth, lips shaking. She dropped her head and turned to wrap her arms around him, sniffling softly.

  “You aren’t going to send me back?”

  “Not a chance. I want you to be my wife, Asha, and not just on paper. I want you to be my wife because you want to. This isn’t a business arrangement anymore. I want my daughter to call you her mother, and I want you to be with me until the day I die.”

  Asha pulled back and her eyes widened, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realized what Michael was trying to say.

  “Michael. I … ”

  He put a finger to her lips and smiled. He dropped his finger, but Asha remained silent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Her heart fluttered when they kissed, and as his hand came up to cup her cheek she threw her arms around him and held him tight, grinning into the kiss. It was like fireworks going off, and she knew this was love.

  As he pulled away, slowly he smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, Asha.”

  “I love you too, Michael,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

  She pulled away and took the paper, signing her name with a string of curly, flowing letters. She stared at it for a moment, and it felt unreal, but when she turned her head and he caught her lips in another gentle kiss, she melted into him, her eyes fluttering closed.

  This was real, and it was hers. She was finally home.

  THE END

  Return to the TOC for Bonus Content

  The Widow’s Heart

  Chapter One

  Frederick Howard Fitzpatrick was where he could always be located on a Thursday afternoon: sitting on a little bench beneath the old weeping willow tree with its branches stretching downward sorrowfully toward his late wife’s grave and the few flowers that poked their heads out bravely against the cold wind. After a long and arduous illness, Elizabeth Fitzpatrick, a beloved wife, mother and daughter, passed away peacefully exactly seven months prior.

  Even though time had passed, Frederick still couldn’t get accustomed to the idea that his wife would never again greet him bright and early in the morning with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. He would never hear her sweet laughter ringing through the house again. She would never tend to their garden, which was now overgrown with weeds.

  The little ones, Angelina and William, were adjusting to the new situation in their own way. William was still too young to remember much of his sweet mother’s countenance, but Angelina was stricken with a sorrow that brought heaviness to Frederick’s heart. She would miss her mother for a long time, and he knew exactly how that felt because he shared her state of mind.

  As the wind howled through the trees, rustling the branches, Frederick remembered his sister’s latest letter and how she reminded him that, even though he was a bereaved husband, he was also a father who needed to provide for his children. However, there was only so much he could offer himself, which was why his sister’s suggestion was to find a new wife, one that would be good to both him and the children.

  “You all need it,” her letter stated gently, without urging or pushing for something that he wasn’t ready for. But at the same time, he also knew that the longer he waited, the more time his children would spend without a mother, an essential figure in bringing up two little ones.

  He buried his face in his hands and wished his wife were here to comfort him. She had always been a great source of comfort in dire times. Her sweet countenance, her strength of character and her faith always kept him on the right path. Now, without her guidance, he felt lost in the world, as if there was nothing left for him but to lead a solitary life, waiting for the sweet Lord to take him away and reunite him with his beloved Elizabeth.

  However, he knew that his sister was right. So that night when the rest of the house was soundly asleep, he took to his pen and paper. Under the soft glow of his candle, he wrote a personal advertisement to be sent the following day and published in the biggest county newspapers.

  He described himself as he was: in his late 40s, hard-working, a man of God who had been widowed and left to take care of two young ones by himself. He continued by stating what kind of a woman he was looking for, though in reality, he wasn’t sure. He’d like Elizabeth to come back, but since such thoughts were blasphemous, he decided it would be best to mention a few basic character traits that Elizabeth herself had: a pure heart, love for those around her, a profound sense of faith and a willingness to move to Texas, provided their correspondence leads to a fruitful and blessed union.

  Normally, he wouldn’t even dream of undertaking such an endeavor, but he knew time was of the essence. His children needed a mother. He was convinced when William, in his childlike naivety, said that this Christmas, he’d like to have a mother who would love him, play with him and take care of him, together with Frederick.

  It almost broke his heart. He hoped that in all her mercy and unconditional love, Elizabeth would understand why he decided to take another wife.

  Chapter Two

  A few days later, on t
he other side of the county, a young woman was sitting at her breakfast table with nothing but a cup of coffee. She knew she had to have something for breakfast, but her current state of mind refused any thoughts or desires of food. In an effort to forget about her troubles, she was leafing through the morning papers, mostly trying to find people in worse situations that she.

  Namely, Christina Rose Hubbard was all alone in the world. Even this house she was residing in would be hers for only a while longer, and then, seeing that she had no means to pay for the loan that was taken while her father—God rest his soul—was still alive, the bank would take it.

  She and her father were left to their own devices from an early age. Christina never remembered her mother, who died while Christina was still an infant and barely able to stand on her own two feet, let alone be cognizant of any memories that could prove to be of much emotional value later on. The only item she had that reminded her of her mother was a tattered old black-and-white photograph showing a lovely young woman, who, despite not smiling, appeared warm and affectionate.

  “She was the sweetest person you could ever meet,” her father always said. “Always helped others before helping herself. I guess the good Lord decided to call her upon himself sooner than we’d like him to, but his will must not be questioned,” he’d add sorrowfully. “Now she is waiting for us up there,” he said, pointing up at the skies, “and looking upon us and keeping us safe.” There was always a tinge of melancholy in her father’s voice every time he spoke of her mother.

  Later on, she wondered why he never remarried, but she dared not ask him. She always found it too personal, as if such a question might hurt him, and that was the last thing she’d ever want to do, especially after he had gotten ill. It all started mildly enough, just a simple loss of appetite, fever and chills, and they had all thought that his condition would improve in a few days.