Lone Pine Bride (The Brides Of Lone Pine Book 1)

by Sylvia Damsell

  Lone Pine Bride

  by Sylvia Damsell

  Copyright: Sylvia Damsell

  Published: December, 2016

  The right of Sylvia Damsell to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  PLEASE NOTE:

  Lower Pine and Middle Pine are fictitious villages a few miles from Lone Pine.

  Historical events are as accurate as possible. A few hours in the timing is inevitable because different accounts of the events in California in 1872 vary.

  Any Bible verses come from the World English Bible.

  All references to God in any way have a capital letter.

  Cover by Nerys Wheatley

  Chapter 1

  “Dear Mr. Grant. Thank you for your letter and for showing an interest in me. I found it very inspiring.

  “My background is not impressive. I have had to fight for what I have because my parents died three years ago. My father was an important member of local society and my mother entertained and managed the house very well, which included the servants. Our house was quite large though not the largest by Boston standards.

  “However, that is in the past because after they died I had to fend for myself, which has not been easy. In view of that I feel I could be invaluable as a helpmeet for someone in California. I knit and sew. I enjoy cooking and particularly enjoy making up new recipes. I am not afraid of hard work.

  “Life here is reasonable but often boring and I would like the adventure of living in the area you live and of being an active part in the life of the community. Because I have no real home I long to be part of a relationship which is mutually beneficial and where I can feel I am a part of it. In return I would do everything I could to make sure whoever I was with was happy.

  “My appearance is hard to describe because when a person does that it sounds a bit vain. I have dark hair which curls on its own, brown eyes and what some people describe as a pretty face. I don’t know about that because I don’t spend hours in front of the mirror. My figure is what has been termed petite. As far as I know, nobody has fainted when they looked at me. I would like to send you a photograph but cannot afford a photographer. I am nineteen years of age.

  “My accomplishments are not vast but I can play the piano, paint and do needlework. I also am proficient at needlepoint and do a lot of knitting for those in more need than myself when I can afford the wool. I am a Christian and love God very much. I attend a large church nearby and take part in its activities, which includes feeding the poor.

  “The way I support myself is to sell my needlework. My needlepoint is particularly popular. I make my own dresses but have not got round to replacing the ivory dress I loved so much which I had to sell after my parents died. I also play the organ at funerals and weddings and that brings in some income.

  “Please let me know a bit about yourself. What you have said already sounds very interesting but I would love to know what kind of things you like and a bit about your life.

  “May God richly bless you. Rachel Barwell.”

  Chapter 2

  “Dear Miss Barwell. I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for sending a reply to my last letter and for telling me a bit about yourself. I am sorry about your parents dying. That is really sad. I think you are very brave the way you have done everything to keep yourself going financially.

  “I’m not sure how to describe my features and don’t have a camera to send you a photograph. We did have a photographer here but he has left the area now. I am fairly tall though not excessively. My face is not one that would turn crowds but I suppose it is alright. I dress smartly and am fussy about my appearance though on the farm, of course, I sometimes get a bit dirty. I bathe regularly, however, and always when I reach home in the evening. No-one that I have noticed has fainted after looking at me though, of course, there might have been a delayed action.

  “My house is a good one and built by the best builders who have paid a lot of attention to detail. I do have some standing in the community because I’m a member of the local ruling council. I also am quite well off therefore can employ the best and know that the service I receive is good because I am respected. This carries some responsibility but that I am willing to accept. In return I try to treat people in the way I would want them to treat me. I am twenty one years of age.

  “My farm is a few miles from Lone Pine which is a town with a population of nearly three hundred people. They have a post office so we can get supplies when we need them. However, that is not the community to which I referred because there is a sizeable village nearer to me where there is a large church and a couple of stores.

  “I do not expect you to feel you have to work hard when you get here. I have farmhands to help run the farm and I employ a cook who produces excellent cuisine. I can cook quite well myself but don’t have a lot of time for that. I don’t have anyone to knit me cardigans so if you knit me one that would be nice. However, that is not essential because I can buy them. Your dresses we can order or else a local dressmaker can make them.

  “I will naturally pay your fare to travel here and will send it if you agree to marry me. I hope you will because I already feel that I love you.

  “I hope that gives you a little idea of what I am like and of where I live. The community is not a large one but people are friendly. We do not have earthquakes, if anyone has told you or you have read that we do. They only occur quite a distance from us and do not affect us.

  “I look forward to hearing from you soon.

  “Yours sincerely, Seth Grant.

  “P.S. I attend church regularly and love God.”

  Chapter 3

  “So what do you do to prepare for your future bride?” Seth Grant asked the man who was lifting bales of hay with him to take into a nearby barn.

  “You’re asking me?” Jason screwed his nose at his friend. “I have no idea about women and what they want or need. If you require any information ask someone who’s already hitched.”

  “Hitched? That sounds awful. I’ve got to make a good impression. She must think I’m alright or she wouldn’t have agreed to come here. She’s a real lady and I have to treat her well because she’s had a lot of sadness in her past, I also need to give her what she was accustomed to before he parents died.”

  “What was she accustomed to?” Jason asked.

  “Good living. Family. People who treated her with respect. She lost that after their deaths. She told me in one of her letters that after they went she had to work hard to pay off debts which had been left by her father which he accrued when he wanted to help some neighbours who were down on their luck. She had to sell the house but that didn’t raise enough. She’s had a hard time.”

  “That sounds sad,” Jason asked.

  They set the bale of hay down and walked back out into the field. “Yes, I want to make it up to her.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I don’t know. She says
she’s average. She couldn’t send a photograph because she can’t afford it.”

  “I would want someone pretty,” Jason said.

  “I’m no oil painting. She says nobody faints when they see her or runs away. If she’s as interesting as she sounds in her letters I will be blessed.”

  “I think I’d rather see someone before I decide to marry them.”

  “Then you’ll probably never marry because no self respecting lady is going to come to live here without being invited and that has to include marriage.”

  “Good luck to you. When is she arriving?”

  “Tomorrow at ten fifteen. The journey is a long one and includes trains and a stagecoach. A few ladies are coming and we’re going straight to the church in Lower Pine to be married.”

  “Is she happy to marry someone she hasn’t seen?”

  “She says she is. We’ve fallen in love through our letters.”

  “I’ll come to the wedding. What time?”

  “Midday. The ladies are going to the Reverend’s house before we marry to freshen up.”

  “Midday then. Goodbye, Seth.”

  “Goodbye.” Jason walked away and the nervousness which seemed to consume Seth nearer to the time Rachel would arrive returned. He was sure he loved her and the bond between them had grown over the months they corresponded. But now the time of actually meeting her was imminent and what would she think of him?

  He was tall and his friends said women liked tall men. He was fairly muscular but then weren’t all farmers? Nobody had fainted when they looked at him either. He chuckled as he thought of it. He had a farm but it was nowhere as luxurious as he had portrayed it nor did he have a great deal of money. He was definitely not on any ruling council. There was a committee in Lower Pine led by the Reverend but they had never approached him to join it. He had not employed people to build his house and had taken ages to do it while he stayed in his barn. He only employed people when absolutely necessary.

  He also had no idea how to treat a lady and his father died when he was young so he had no example to follow. His mother had married again recently but he did not see them often because they lived some way away.

  Where personal matters were concerned he would go slowly, of course, so she had time to get used to him. He had already cleaned the house from top to bottom so that could go in his favour. He didn’t expect her to wait on him hand and foot which he knew some men expected. He didn’t get drunk or gamble and was quite happy with the social events which were held at the church. He followed God as well as he could though he wasn’t sure what He thought about the embellishments he had made.

  So would that make her happy or was there more he didn’t know about? He had told her everything he could think of in his letters to her and she had told him a lot too. Quite a bit they seemed to have in common and he had read with interest the things she did associated with her church and community.

  But he had also exaggerated because he wanted so badly to impress her and she would catch him out, he was sure. Respected by the community? Maybe to a degree but probably to most of them he was just a young man trying to eke out a living. Pay for someone to clean the house and cook? That was just a dream so he would have to do it himself or somehow earn more money to employ someone.

  But she sounded as if she could do things. Feeding the poor, visiting orphans, knitting warm clothes for the needy. She loved knitting, she told him, and would bring him the nice warm cardigan he wanted. That was, if the weather wasn’t too hot for that sort of thing. Boston was quite different from California climate wise. She also knew how to cook because her mother thought that important to teach her daughter.

  But he had exaggerated more and more in his letter about himself and his habits, he had to admit. He was tidy, he told her, but the house had been a mess until he cleaned it recently. He could cook well, he continued, but really all he could do was eggs. The meat he just threw in the oven and the potatoes he never peeled though he did clean them thoroughly before cooking them. He was excellent with needle and cotton but all he had ever sewed was a sock and that turned out to have such a lump after he pulled the needle and cotton through innumerable times that in the end he just threw it out.

  Maybe he should be practising all those things but time had caught up with him and he didn’t have enough hours left before tomorrow to do so. There was also nobody to teach him with his mother away. She really should have paid attention when he was young to making her son ready for a wife.

  He would have liked to have her at the wedding but he hadn’t told her about his marriage. Why, he didn’t know, but maybe because he thought she might regard such a thing as risky. It wasn’t at all risky, of course, because Rachel was a beautiful person and he loved her.

  He pulled off his boots, slung them in a corner and skidded after them. That he wouldn’t be able to do after she arrived. He needed a special place for them. Maybe a cupboard and then Rachel could put hers there also if she wanted to do so. He should have thought of that before but for now he would put them in the scullery adjoining his kitchen.

  And it would be nice to have someone else’s shoes next to his because life could be a bit lonely. It would be nice to have someone with whom to communicate. Rachel sounded very intelligent in her letters and had commented on politics, among other things. She said she would have liked to start a business where she could use her needlework skills but probably she wouldn’t be clever enough, anyway. He replied that he felt she could do anything she wanted and that he would support her. How, he didn’t know, because of his own lack of funds, but somehow he would work it out and it would be added income.

  She had asked his opinion on quite a few matters and it made him feel important to be able to tell her what he thought, particularly when she told him how clever she thought he was.

  He was proud of his scullery and looked forward to showing it to Rachel. It could be a source of illness, his mother had told him, so he mustn’t have it near the toilet facilities and he must make sure the floor did not become too wet so he needed to raise it or put wooden slats on it to stand on. There were pipes going from the taps and everything was spotless. Courtesy of Jason who had helped clean up the place. He walked back into the lounge and looked around.

  He had purchased cushions from one of the stores nearby and put them carefully on the couch. Two each end as he remembered his mother would do. Two easy chairs stood nearby with a cushion on each. In the centre was a little table he had made, of which he was very proud. It was in the shape of a heart and Jason said it was soppy, but then probably a woman would like it because they tended to be that way inclined.

  Before he had just put his cups and plates on the floor, despite having another room in which he had a table, also a further room in which he had nothing. The plates when he finished with them went in the sink in the scullery waiting to be washed where they sometimes had to wait a few days. Now that sink was empty and everything had been carefully placed in cupboards he had made for the purpose.

  He was good with his hands, he had told Rachel, and that was one thing about which he was truthful. He had built his own house with a mixture of mud and wood and it looked nice enough for his mother to approve. That meant it was alright because Caroline Blair was a fussy woman.

  So what else did he need? Maybe he should try to think the way his mother did. Flowers. It hit him suddenly. That he remembered from his childhood days. Flowers in the living room. Not in the bedroom, his mother told him, because that would take up the oxygen you need to breathe. He took everything she said as gospel but he wasn’t so sure about that as he got older. You breathed in oxygen and gave out carbon dioxide. Plants gave out oxygen which meant that logically they would help you breathe. He told Caroline that but knew she was not convinced.

  If Rachel was like his mother he would do well, though maybe not some of the things she said. But his memories of how she treated him and his brother and sister were good and he liked it when she visited or he went to see
her. Which is what he must do soon, he thought, because he wanted to show Rachel off.

  So what would Rachel look like? She said average but beauty was different for different people and what was inside counted most, or so his mother said. Once again he wasn’t convinced but usually she was right so she could be right in this instance.

  She was petite, Rachel said, and that sounded feminine. Was his mother petite? Not really because she was quite tall and tall was alright. But petite had a nice ring to it and made him feel protective, which is what he would be. He would protect her and nurture her and make her feel loved. He would try to make up to her for the way things had been during the last three years since her parents died and she lost everything.

  He went for flowers and realised there was no vase. You had to have a vase and it should be a pretty one because Rachel was used to pretty things from her life before she was left on her own, and she was also artistic. You had to be artistic to do needlepoint. So what was he going to do? His shaving mug. He was very proud of that because his mother bought it for him ten years previously when he didn’t have a hair on his face that showed. They were newly out, she told him, and he would need it for his razors. He went for it, cleaned it carefully and pushed in the flowers before setting them on the mantelpiece.

  He frowned as he looked at them. That wasn’t very good, just pushing them in like that. Tall flowers at the back, he recalled his mother saying. He would do that.

  He took them all out, emptied the water away and began again. Maybe he would put the flowers in first because his first attempt had made the mantelpiece wet. He dried it, arranged the flowers as best he could, filled the mug with water and stood back to look rather critically at his handiwork.

  Not bad and that should make a good impression. Which was something he badly wanted, he had to admit, because Rachel coming was the most important thing that had ever happened to him. It added excitement to a life which had begun to be a bit mundane.