by Natalie Dean
A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and I gasped, sitting up so quickly that I nearly fell to the floor. I pressed my hands to my stomach, sucking in a deep breath as the pain subsided. I frowned and rubbed where the pain had shot through my body before I settled back down, assuming it had been a cramp. I closed my eyes and started to doze off again but as I floated between sleep and wakefulness another pain hit me, and this was worse than the last. The muscles tensed, and a pressure wound its way through my belly, squeezing and pinching until there were tears in my eye.
I cried out, and Liam shot up, his eyes wide as he looked at me, panic running across his face. “Darlin’? Darlin’!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and helped me sit up, cupping my cheeks. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. I-AHH!” I clutched my belly and whimpered, tears coming to my eyes.
My answer came in a far more dramatic way than I would have expected. Within a few minutes of the pain, the bed became wet and a warm, clear liquid soaked my nightgown and the sheets underneath me.
“The baby! It’s the baby!” I gasped, gripping his arm. I didn’t know much about what to expect during childbirth, but they had warned me of this.
“What should I do?!” Liam was completely out of his element, and I could see his brain going a million miles a minute. I had to stay calm for his sake.
“We need…you need to go next door and get the neighbor.”
He was out of bed and dressed in slacks within a few seconds and already out the door. I knew he didn’t want to leave me alone, but someone had to get the midwife, and I knew I couldn’t move from the bed. Then sharp pains in my belly were coming faster and more intense. Every time I felt it coming I would curl my fingers in the quilt and hold my breath, silently waiting for the ripping pain to subside. It was as if a wild dog was tearing at my insides and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it.
The pain made it hard to keep track of time. I wasn’t sure how long I laid in the bed for, writhing in pain. The midwife came, but by the time she arrived the world was a blur and all I could think about was the pain. I was sure that there was something wrong. Having a baby couldn’t possibly be this painful, could it?
Liam was trying to talk to me, calling for me and trying to touch my hand, but every time he touched it, I would grab it and squeeze until he cried out and pulled his hand away. Had I broken it? I really didn’t know. I didn’t know what was going on anymore. There were people around me, urging me to stay calm and push when then told me to.
If they thought I was going to listen, they had another thing coming. My body was telling me exactly what I needed to do and that was the only thing I was going to listen to. Despite the pain and despite the chaos around me, I gave one final push, screaming and clinging to Liam’s arm.
There was a sudden, unexpected relief as my child was born into the midwife’s waiting arms. There was a moment of tense silence, and finally, the cry of my newborn child filled the small room. I watched through hazed eyes as the midwife cleaned the baby up and swaddled it in a blanket she brought from her house.
Finally, she put the child in my arms, smiling adoringly at us. “Congratulations. You and your husband are the proud parents of a healthy baby girl.”
The sweet smell of the baby overwhelmed me, and I let out a breathy laugh as her soft, wispy blonde hair tickled my nose. She was perfect and so warm. I cradled her to my chest, brushing my shaking fingers over her perfect soft skin. I was so enamored by her that I didn’t even notice when Liam settled beside me until he wrapped his arms around us and pressed a kiss to my sweaty forehead.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “You did so good. I’m so proud. You…are so amazing.” His voice was filled with awe as he gazed down at our daughter.
I smiled and leaned into him. “We did it together,” I murmured, echoing his words about Reynold. “We did it together, my love.”
He smiled and pressed his nose into my hair. “We did.”
We both knew he didn’t do much when it came to carrying and birthing our daughter, but that wasn’t the point. We had fought so long and so hard for this and now we finally had everything we’d wanted. We were a family, and we were safe and happy. This was the start of something beautiful for us, and I was happier than I could possibly put into words. I felt I should say something, but I was afraid words might ruin the beauty of the moment.
The midwife excused herself to warm some water, and I was glad to be alone with Liam and our child. I looked down at the blue-eyed baby and smiled, watching as she smacked her lips together and blinked her big eyes.
“What should we name her?” Liam murmured, stroking a wisp of hair out of my face.
“I think we should name her Hope.”
“Hope?”
“It’s fitting, don’t you think?” I asked with a tired smile. “She’s our hope for the future. Our little gift from God.”
“I think that’s perfect.”
He leaned over me and offered me a tender kiss. At that moment, I knew that everything was going to be alright.
Epilogue
Life was perfect. Little Hope was five years old now and growing like a weed. She had big, bright blue eyes that could have lit up a room and soft golden curls. She was the light of our lives and completed us. I never knew that having a family could be so fulfilling. When I married Reynold, I assumed that I would have children and watch them get yanked from my arms so that the governess could raise them. I never imagined that I would have the opportunity to be a proper mother.
The wind blew through the trees outside, making the branches sing and I watched as Hope leaned against the wood, her little button nose squished against the glass. Her eyes were wide, darting back and forth as she searched the darkness outside.
“Angel, what are you looking for?” I asked, tucking my dress under my knees as I stirred the stew that was bubbling over the fire.
“I’m looking for Daddy!”
I rose from the hearth and collected a thick blanket and draped it around Hope’s shoulders. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head, closing my eyes to remember that sweet, powdery smell that clung to her after birth. I missed that smell.
“He will be home soon. Come away from the window. You’re going to catch your death.”
She sighed but stood, her long, linen nightgown unfolding and brushing the floor. It was a bit too big for her, but she’d grow into it. She followed me to the fireplace, sitting beside the pine tree that nearly touched our ceiling. She’d helped her father drag it from the forest a few days before and was still quite proud of it.
Just as we’d settled in, I heard the tell-tale sound of rocks shifting under boots.The door creaked open, and Liam walked inside the cabin, removing his hat and scarf, setting them aside. Hope was on her feet within moments and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and holding him tight.
“Daddy!”
Liam held a red box under one arm but used his free one to lift Hope in the air, swinging her around and kissing her cheek. “Hello there, my little love!”
“Where were you, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at him as he set her on the ground.
“I had to go into town, so I could get you and Mama an early Christmas present.”
Hope’s eyes lit up, and I chuckled as Liam walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “A present?”
“Yes. I thought our tree was looking a little bear.” He offered me the silk wrapped box, and I stared at it for a moment before finally opening it.
When I saw what was inside I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Liam!”
Inside the box were several beautiful ornaments with gold details and colorful paintings. They were just like the one we’d hung on the Christmas tree the night we fled the city. “Oh my goodness.”
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked, lifting one from the box so that Hope could see it.
He placed it in her hand gently and smil
ed. “Be very careful, Hope.”
“Daddy! They’re beautiful!” she sang.
I felt tears come to my eyes and I smiled at him, stepping closer to press my lips to his, holding the kiss for a long moment. “They’re perfect, Liam.”
“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”
Hope tugged on my skirt and pointed to the tree. “Let’s put them on the tree, Mama!”
I followed her and together, the three of us decorated the tree, laughing and singing carols. The world was perfect, and everything was in its place. I never thought I’d have a life like this, but I was thankful for every moment I had with my family. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
THE END
COLORADO COWBOY
THE BIG BEAUTIFUL BRIDE’S CUTE LITTLE SURPRISE
A Western Romance Short Story
Book Description
A big beautiful bride.
A handsome cowboy.
A cute little girl.
A little white lie…
A little lie never hurt anything, right? That’s what Bridget thought when she filled out her mail order bride application and said she could cook, clean and care for children. She wouldn’t actually need to do any of that anyway. After all, only wealthy men in New York placed ads for mail order brides, right? Wrong.
When she learns that she’s going to a small town in Colorado, she begins to question her decision. This was supposed to be her ticket out of poverty and debt. She’d left her family’s farm long ago, and she didn’t want to go back to one. She appreciated the finer things in life and wanted a husband that would be more than willing to give her those things.
When she arrives, she quickly learns this isn’t the case. Jack is a handsome man, and he does well for himself, but this isn’t the life she wanted. When she learns he has a child, her world is turned upside down. She isn’t ready to be a mother, but she doesn’t really have a choice.
Will Bridget find love in a place she never expected it? Is she really cut out to be a mother?
© Copyright 2017 by Kenzo Publishing - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
It was going to be another rowdy night at the Copper Cellar, Bridget had decided. The men from the docks on the Thames were always excitable--after a hard day’s work, they wanted mutton, beer and whiskey, a good song and a lady at their side. Tonight though, she knew they were extra excitable. The way they leered at her as she bustled about, serving up mugs of warm beer and plates of meat pies. Some of the men were even handsy, much to her chagrin.
“Ah! Watch your hands now, scoundrel,” she retorted with a turn of her head and a quirk of her full lips, batting a weathered hand away.
The man, who smelled of the docks--which was to say he smelled of fish--laughed.
“Sorry love, but inquiring minds want to know.”
“Inquiring minds can shove off,” she said with a wink and a sway of her large, supple hips before hurrying back to the bar.
Bridget Collins was popular at the Copper Cellar. Everyone said she had good English genes, and few who saw her could deny that she was quite beautiful. She had chestnut brown hair that held a curl cascading from the messy bun piled high on her head. Small, rounded ears framed her round rosy cheeks, and she had a small, slightly upturned nose, that was perfectly straight. She had pink, full lips, shaped like a rosebud. That pink color meant she rarely had to make herself up and that filled other women with envy. She even had big hazel eyes with thick lashes, sharp and bright. When she turned those eyes on a man, he knew she’d throw some sarcastic remark and laugh at his foolishness.
This was all icing on the cake. Her figure was the real seller. She was not a small woman. Bridget had full, wide hips that swayed with every step she took, like a pendulum in a clock. She had strong, thick, plush thighs that the folds of her dress barely disguised as she bustled about the tavern. Her waist narrowed, but only because of the corset she wore and at night, alone in her little room in her nightgown, her belly was full and soft and hung just a little. Finally was her bust, which was legendary amongst the regulars at the Copper Cellar. The collar of her dress always gave the men an eyeful of pale, ample breasts that heaved as she worked and swayed as she moved, just like her hips. It was no secret that they’d drop things just to see her bend over so they could get even more of an eye full.
There were skinny girls too who worked at the Copper Cellar, who caught the eyes of the younger men, but it was Bridget who the older, more experienced men sought. She reminded them of a mother, an aunt, a sister--they’d say. Or a girl they loved long ago when they’d left up north to pursue better days.
“Ah--why’d you leave her,” Bridget would ask with a smirk and false sympathy.
“I came to London Town to make a pound or two and got stuck here,” he’d say, with a remorseful laugh and a wink. “But I could have a shot with you, perhaps, Miss Collins?”
“If you’re eating here, you’ve got about as much money as I do and I’ve got nothing. You’ve got no shot with me, love,” she’d say, slamming a mug down on the table so it sloshed over the rim. Bridget would laugh then and so would the other men, teasing the man who thought he could win her heart.
Even if the attempts by the men had been more genuine, more heartfelt, and with something besides a night in the bed on their mind, Bridget still would have declined. She, like so many other men and women, had come to London seeking better fortune. The north had been awful--cold weather and dying farms. A woman could expect a poor farmer for a husband, many children who would starve and find themselves at the mercy of the same fate. There was little joy for a woman as bright and vivacious as herself.
So, she came. She packed a bag, found herself a little one room flat, and found a job at the Copper Cellar. When she got paid, she always sent money home to her parents and many siblings. After all, she was doing the family proud making her fortune in London.
Rent was high in London, food was costly, and the barmaid, though beautiful and well liked, was clumsy and she often broke mugs and bowls, so the cost for that had come right from her pay. At first, her landlord had been understanding, but after several months of coming up short on rent, the threats to be evicted were happening more and more. So, she started moving from flat to flat, avoiding her landlords as her debts grew. To say that Bridget was in financial straits would have been an understatement.
On more than one occasion, the beautiful woman had been investigated by debt collectors sent by previous jilted landlords. She'd pay what she could to keep them at bay just a little longer.
She tried not to think of this too much, and as another handsy dockworker swatted at her ample behind, she reached out and caught his wrist. “Not tonight, Mr. James,” she tutted before sauntering towards the bar.
At the bar, her employer, a Mr. Hess, smiled at her, looking Bridget over with a glint in his eye. “I've got your pay for the week when your shift ends.”
Mr. Hess was a tall man with a thick, bushy mustache that sometimes reminded Bridget of a large push broom. Despite having no experience and very little natural skill at serving, he’d hired her. And despite many broken cups and plates, he’d continued to employ her. After all, she brought it a lot of regulars with her goo
d looks, bright smile and pointed wit. The customers weren’t the only ones to fall for her charms.
“Also, some gentlemen came by for you earlier.”
She didn’t need to ask who it was. She never needed to ask. The only men who stopped in for a visit at her flat were the debt collectors.
Chapter Two
Bridget needed money fast. No amount of tips from the men that night nor her pay would be enough to keep off the debt collectors. That night, she did her best to be charming, to earn an extra penny or shilling on the side. She showed off her bust, laughed at the terrible jokes and was generous with the beer. Still, she knew she was short.
The next day, before her shift, she found an abandoned paper on the cobblestone road. She scanned the headlines and the advertisements for some kind of part-time, day position she could take, something with an advance on the payment.
A position for a maid earned a scoff from her when they asked for experience. “Ha! Experience cleaning? Everyone’s got that just trying to keep their own places tidy.” Yet another position for a nanny made her perfect petal lips turn up in a sneer. “And anyone can take care of babes. Not the job for me though.”
It seemed, in fact, that nothing was her style. Everyone asked for experience she just didn’t have or for things she just wouldn’t do. She thought this search would be a bust, but then, at the bottom corner, she spotted an ad that caught her eye.
“Great West mail order brides,” she read aloud to herself. “See America. Huh, well, I always fancied myself a trip to America. See New York and Boston and all the great, big cities with their modern ways.” Bridget found herself grinning at the idea, then read further.
For any woman interested, they could come into the office, have their picture taken and fill out a brief form about themselves and their talents. Those women who applied would be given a sum up front, and then it would all be printed in a catalog and sent off to America, where men would mail back or telegraph, pay for her trip, where they’d meet and be wed. It was perfect. She’d get enough to pay off the collectors and keep her lodging. And if some American man in New York City happened to fancy her, he could send for her right away, and she’d escape any other debts in the land of the free!