by Nathan Adams
Mary stared up at him for a long time and crossed her arms. “I was thinking about Jacob.”
His face fell just a little and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh.”
“I was thinking about how much he loved me and how much he would have wanted to see me happy no matter what. And I’ve been wondering about how I might achieve that happiness,” she mused.
Rick said nothing and watched her closely. She smiled and leaned against him, sighing.
“Were you afraid to move on after you lost your family?”
“I was very afraid,” he admitted. “I was afraid that if I moved on it would somehow be a travesty to their memory.”
“You were afraid?” she asked. “But you aren’t anymore?”
“I’m not.”
“What made you not afraid?”
He paused a moment, looking past her before he finally met her gaze. “Well, I prayed, and I asked God and I asked Julie to help me heal. I prayed for help, and I got you.”
Her eyes widened, and she stared up at him. “I’m the one who helped you?”
He nodded and smiled. “I never would have expected it when we first met. I thought you were a brat,” he said with a good-natured smile. “All I wanted was a share in your farm, you know? I was going to marry you and take half your farm and eventually all of it. I knew that once you got a taste of farm work you’d hate it, but you proved me wrong, and I fell in love with you, Mary. Somewhere along the way I fell in love.”
Her eyes widened, and she reached up to touch his cheeks, tears coming to her eyes. “Me, too, Rick. I didn’t think I’d ever love anyone again, and then you walked right through that door, and it was like the world shifted,” she whispered.
Rick paused and reached into the pocket of his working trousers and pulled out a small piece of dried mistletoe. There was a little red ribbon tied around it, and when Mary saw it, her eyes widened and a grin spread to her lips. Rick took the mistletoe and held it over their heads and between them, grinning down at her.
“Looks like we’re under the mistletoe.”
“It seems we are,” she whispered.
Rick paused, taking a deep breath before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, their lips meeting in a long awaited kiss. She always thought nothing would ever beat her and Jacob’s first kiss, but she was proven wrong that Christmas Eve.
When their lips met, fireworks exploded behind her eyes. He pulled her close and held her tight as they held the kiss until the need for air became too strong to ignore. When they finally separated, her lips tingled pleasantly, and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it might pound right out of her chest.
She blinked a few times, breathless as her knees became weak, and she leaned against him for balance.
“That was … ”
“Amazing,” he finished.
She laughed and leaned up to catch his lips in another tender kiss before he lifted her into his arms and twirled her around, grinning. She gasped and laughed excitedly as he finally set her back on her feet, and she cupped his cheeks again, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Rick.”
Chapter Eight
It was the first of many Christmas’ they would celebrate together. No matter how much time passed, they always made sure to hang mistletoe where they would be sure to find themselves underneath it. They were happy, and that was something neither of them expected after they lost so much. Their love was proof that the human spirit would endure and that God always had a plan.
They eventually got married, though they waited a year or so in order to fall in love properly. Mary was ready to marry him on Christmas Day, but Rick never wanted her to wonder if their marriage was just about the farm, so he made her wait until the fall. They were married the very same day they met and had a beautiful wedding and invited everyone in town, including the bankers.
The very men who tried to take her house came to her wedding bearing gifts and apologies for their harsh words. Their apologies were accepted, and they never bothered Mary or Rick again. No bankers and no guilt would ever burden them again.
Mary smiled as she watched her children play in the snowy field near the tree where Jacob was buried. She hoped he could see them, and she hoped he knew just how happy she was. Her life was complete, and although she loved Jacob dearly and missed him every day, she’d learned that she wasn’t put on this earth to cry and be sad.
She was a mother with a successful farm and a loving husband. She had so much in her life to be happy and thankful for that it seemed a travesty to get hung up on grief. Mary sighed and put her hands flat on the counter, smiling when Rick wrapped his arms around her from the back and kissed her temple.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Christmas is just around the corner, you know.” She hummed, putting her delicate hands over his rough and calloused ones.
“Our favorite time of year.”
She smiled and turned around, wrapping her arms around him gently. “Is it by chance that we met?” she whispered, stroking his cheek.
“I don’t think so.”
She smiled and tugged on his sandy hair playfully. “What do you think it was then?”
“I think there were a lot of angels watching over us.” He hummed, kissing her cheek. “I think Julie and Jacob wanted us to find each other so we could be happy.”
Mary nodded and leaned back a little. “I hope they know how happy we are.”
“I’m sure they do, Mary.”
He smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out some mistletoe and holding over her head. “It seems we’re under the mistletoe,” he said with a grin.
She smiled and leaned up, placing and adoring kiss on his lips.
“It seems we are.”
THE END
Return to the TOC
The Cowboy’s Heart
Clean Western Mail Order Bride Romance
By: Claire Grace
Chapter One
Iron Mountain was Asha's home. She'd lived there her entire life and watched the lush, green valley change from a thriving town with businesses and homes to a desolate wasteland. A statewide market crash in 1889 put the small town into a tailspin that ended in tragedy. The local businesses couldn't stay open when no one could afford to buy their products.
Most of the people in town knew that Iron Mountain was never going to return to the glory it once was and they opted to leave the state of Michigan entirely. Most of them went West to the new promised land. Everyone spoke of Montana like there would be no struggle there. A man could feed his family and maybe even strike it rich if he was willing to put in a long, hard day of work.
Asha was skeptical of this, knowing that the grass only looked greener on the other side because of distance. Once you got right up on that grass you'd start to notice all the worms tangled among the green stalks. Montana was probably better than Iron Mountain, but she doubted it was perfect.
The sound of the train whistle blowing caught Asha's attention, and she jumped as she watched the iron beast roll up to the platform, spewing black smoke as it came to a stop in front of the wobbly and hastily built train station. There were no amenities, and the small shack only served as a way to board the train and leave the godforsaken town.
A man dressed in a smart-looking uniform stepped off the train, his gold buttons glimmering in the sunlight. He looked around, his hazel eyes scanning the platform for passengers. Asha stood alone on the platform, the once bustling city now silent behind her. The man sighed softly and glanced at Asha, looking her up and down.
“You the only one?”
She nodded slowly, looking down at the snow-covered ground, her sigh turning into a vapor around her due to the cool air. The cart man nodded and opened the door for her, taking her ticket and punching a hole in it.
“This seems to be the norm in these small towns, nowadays,” he mused as he stepped back onto the train after Asha. “One
person tries to put it all back together and gets left behind the rest,” he murmured softly.
“I did try,” Asha whispered as she settled into an empty seat.
There was no one else in the cart with her. She could hear people talking and moving about in the car she imagined was first class, but for now she was alone. She put her head on the window pane and enjoyed the feeling of the sun filtering in through the glass and warming her face.
As her eyes drifted closed, she thought about what brought her here in the first place. Asha held out as long as she possibly could. She didn’t want to leave Iron Mountain behind, but after her father passed away, she knew there were no other choices for her. Asha and her father ran the family farm together. They were alone since Asha’s mother left them only a year after Asha was born. Her father hadn’t even told Asha her mother’s name for fear that his daughter would chase her down. All she knew of her mother was that she was the daughter of a great Native American chief.
Asha’s half-breed status caused her much grief growing up. No one really seemed to accept her, and she faced condemnation and cruel words everywhere she went. The other children and their parents didn’t ever have anything nice to say to her. Asha’s father was her only friend growing up, so she stayed close to him and the family farm, opting not to continue her education after some very basic schooling. She’d leaned to read and write and spent the rest of her childhood on the farm learning to cook and care for plants and livestock.
Her father encouraged her learning even after she left school and would frequently buy her books on a variety of subjects. She learned a lot from those books, and soon they became her only other friends. Asha could lose herself in books. She could lose herself in the worlds writers created. She loved books, and she loved her father. Asha was happy with her life, even if it wasn’t perfect.
When the market crashed in 1889, people started losing their jobs and stopped buying Asha’s livestock and vegetables. They stopped coming to the markets, and soon Asha and her father couldn’t afford to take their products to the market. They didn’t suffer as badly as some of the other townspeople, however. Their farm meant they were never at risk of starvation. They sustained themselves, and everything seemed like it might be OK. As long as they had their farm, they could ride out the crash.
Asha was hopeful until the winter of 1890. Her father contracted consumption, and with no doctors left in town he eventually passed away. Asha did her best to treat the disease and help her father recover, but he was an aged man and Asha didn’t have any medical training. It turned out to be a deadly combination.
That was over a year ago, and her heart never recovered. As the first snows of winter began to fall from the sky, Asha knew she couldn’t stay in Iron Mountain. She needed to go West like the rest of her sleepy town. There was no one left to buy her farm or her livestock, so she knew she would have to figure out another way to get her train ticket.
She’d heard about mail-order brides and of men paying good money to bring wives out West. There were a lot of men but very few women in the West, so they were willing to pay a handsome price to have someone to take care of their home and bear their children. Asha decided that marrying a stranger would be better than slowly wasting away in Iron Mountain.
Asha answered the first ad that promised a comfortable home and offered to pay for the train ticket and. A few weeks after that initial letter, a small package arrived that contained enough money to pay for her ticket and other traveling expenses as well as a dowry of sorts that was meant to go to her father. She’d pocketed the extra money and bought her ticket the very next day.
Because there was no one left in town to buy her farm, she’d simply let the livestock out of their pens and packed up her few things, making sure to bring her favorite books along with her. Asha knew she’d laid eyes on her beloved home for the last time that morning, and the sadness she felt was surprisingly overwhelming. She couldn’t let that get to her, however. She needed to be strong and move forward.
After all, there was nothing worth looking back, now.
Chapter Two
The train carts didn’t stay empty for long. Iron Mountain was one of the first of many stops on the way to Billings Montana. Asha was surprised when the man who’d welcomed her onto the train told her to get off in Chicago. He explained that she would be getting on another train that would take her the rest of the way to Montana.
With a surprised gaze, she thanked him and scooted off the train, unsure if she was being played for a fool or not. Amazed by the sheer size of the city around her, Asha stood on the much larger platform in Chicago. It was bustling, loud and reeked of the smells of a large, overcrowded city. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and fear gripped her as she clung to her suitcase, terrified that someone might try and grab it from her.
Asha shuffled into the large building that housed the rest of the train station and ticket booth. There was a pretty girl behind the little window, and Asha wandered over, her long coal-black hair coming loose from the braids she’d meticulously set the morning before. Wisps of midnight hair fluttered around her tanned face and delicate nose.
A young woman was leaning against the counter, her nose stuck in a newspaper article about Chicago being awarded the bid for the Columbian Exhibition. She looked up at Asha, seemingly bored and uninterested in the woman’s presence.
Asha cleared her throat, deciding she was going to have to be the one to start the conversation. “When is the train for Billings set to arrive?”
“Not until 5,” the redhead sighed, putting her chin in her hand.
Asha glanced up at the clock on the wall, noting that it was 3. “Thank you.”
She stepped away from the window, not wanting to deal with the rude woman any longer than necessary. As she settled on a hard wooden bench, Asha sighed and put her suitcase in her lap, not trusting the city and its residents. Iron Mountain was a very small town with little crime, and she’d heard about the pit of sin that was Chicago. There were pickpockets and thieves around every corner. That’s what people said anyway, and even if it wasn’t true, she wasn’t willing to take the risk.
Asha watched the minute’s tick by, chewing her lip a little and sighing as she tapped her foot impatiently. She didn’t like sitting around waiting. She was lost in her own world watching the clock on the wall when a man came to sit beside her. She hardly even noticed him and certainly wasn’t expecting him to put his hand on her knee.
She jumped at the touch, pulling away from the strange man, her emerald eyes wide with surprise.
“You’re one of those half-breeds, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth but full of tricks.
Asha frowned and scooted further down the bench, deciding she didn’t need to answer this man.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!”
Asha winced and sat up straight, trying her best to hide the fact that she was frazzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir.”
“’Course you do. Your daddy is white, and your mama is an Indian.”
She frowned and kept her head high. If her daddy taught her anything in this world, it was that she shouldn’t bow her head to any man.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I just thought it would be nice to have a little chat with a beautiful woman.”
She glared at the man, her brows knitted together and her face set into a deep frown. “I am not interested in conversation, Sir. I’m waiting for my train.”
“Well, how about a little fun then?”
He reached out to touch her leg again, and she gasped, her hand snapping out and connecting with his cheek with a loud and audible sound that echoed through the train station. As his head snapped to the side, Asha stood quickly, clinging to her suitcase and all but running out of the building and onto the platform.
Her heart was slamming in her chest, and she looked back at the building, staring at the door and waiting for him to come out and chase he
r. The man didn’t come out. In fact, through the window she could see that he’d moved on to another young lady who didn’t seem near as resistant to his advances. Asha took a relieved breath and decided she’d rather just wait out the rest of the hour on the platform.
When the train finally pulled up, she felt an elation filling her that she couldn’t compare to anything else. She was finally going to be on her way to Montana. The sight of well-groomed men in suits with shiny buttons was starting to become a welcomed sight. The man beckoned her onto the train, and she hurried on, her heart still pounding, and her cheeks still hot with embarrassment. The advances of men weren’t something new to Asha, but that didn’t mean she was used to them.
There were plenty of men in Iron Mountain who’d wanted to bed Asha. It was not a rare thing for her to be propositioned in the market, but she’d always refused. She wasn’t interested in carnal activities. Asha was taught that she should save herself for her husband, and that’s what she intended on doing. No slick city man and his silver tongue was going to change that.
She sighed and leaned back against her seat, happy to be back on the train and on her way to her new life.
Chapter Three
The remainder of the train ride was uneventful. The cart filled up and then emptied before filling up again. It was an endless cycle, though it was interesting to see the type of people who came and went. It gave her a feeling for the type of people who were going out West.
She started to notice that the further west she went, the fewer women there seemed to be, and the women who were on the train seemed tired and downtrodden. Some of them held children in their arms, and others were alone, but all of them seemed sad and displaced. Asha wasn’t stupid. She managed to put it together quickly. These women were like her. They were mail-order brides looking to better their desperate situations. It was a sad truth, but for many women, this was the only option available to them.
When the train finally came to Billings, Asha couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The long trip was finally over, and she could say she was home. She stepped off the train, and her eyes widened. There was vast, flat land that expanded out for miles and eventually became tall, snow-covered mountains that reached up for the purple sky. Night was starting to fall, and twilight colors were painted across the sky, fading from rich oranges and reds to purples and finally into the deep, velvet blackness of night.