Adventure For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 3)

by Amelia Rose

  “I don’t happen to be just anyone,” she answered confidently, refusing to be put in her place by a grumpy, overworked farmer. She’d worked just as hard as he had that day, thanks to the help of her two small but mighty assistants, and she wasn’t about to let their efforts be besmirched by anyone, not even their own father. “Now, go wash yourself, if you please, as supper is ready and the children and I are hungry.”

  Wyatt’s mouth fell open at being ordered around in his own home. His face turned a deep shade of red and he had half a mind to send Millie packing right that minute, but the smells coming from the stove stopped him. As he watched the woman serve up the plates and pass them to his children, he realized it was the first carefully prepared meal his children had had in a long time. Even so, they waited patiently for him at their places, not daring to touch their food until their father had joined them and said grace.

  As Wyatt pondered how to comply while still saving some shred of dignity, Millie served her own plate then walked with it to the door.

  “Ma’am, aren’t you gonna have supper with us?” Micah asked in a meek voice. He looked between his father and the woman who’d spent all day with him, wondering at their relationship but also at the looks of stone-faced resolution they wore.

  Millie froze, glanced quickly at Wyatt, then turned and started to take a seat at the table near the stove.

  “Of course, Micah,” she began. “I’d be honored to stay and have supper with you—”

  “NOT THERE!” Wyatt roared. “It’s bad enough you robbed her of her chair by the fire, but you’re not taking Anna Mae’s place at this table!” He gasped in surprise at his own outburst, and held his shaking hands at his sides to keep them still.

  “And where would you have me sit, Mr. Flynn?” Millie asked in a calculating voice that dripped with sarcasm. “Shall I take my meals on the porch like a hired field hand? And for how long? Just until such time as we make this official, or just until you set aside your labors long enough to make me a chair of my own while a perfectly good chair stands empty? Better yet, perhaps you’d have me just take my meals standing by the stove. Will that be the rule from now on?”

  “I… I don’t know. But I don’t want you to sit there,” he stammered, knowing his feelings were utter nonsense. That knowledge didn’t ease his disposition, though.

  “Then I have a perfect solution.” She smiled warmly at the children and came around to sit at the other end of the table, taking Wyatt’s chair. “After all, I’m apparently only a guest in your home, not someone to be seated or obeyed. So I expect to be treated like it. In fact, I’ll need you to come in from the fields earlier tomorrow to serve me my supper, seeing as how I’m a guest and all. I take my cuts of meat well done all the way through, thank you, do see that you remember that.”

  She quickly bowed her head and said her own prayer of thanksgiving while the astonished males looked on. Millie looked up when she’d finished and smiled at all of them before stabbing a piece of carrot with her fork and popping it in her mouth. The boys looked between the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of which lead to follow, but finally, they gave in to the hunger pangs in their small bellies and began to eat.

  Wyatt snatched up his plate from the table and carried it outside, letting the door slam shut loudly behind him. Millie gave the children a reassuring smile and continued with her dinner, feeling more than a little pleased with herself. She hadn’t come all this way to be treated like an outsider, and she’d be darned if she was going to play second fiddle to a dead woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  Early the next morning, a wagon rolled up to a stop beside Millie’s small cabin. She peered out the window to make sure the children hadn’t yet come out of their father’s house, then smiled when she saw a woman about her age climb down from the wagon seat.

  Finally, a woman who can drive herself around in her own wagon without waiting for her man to take her somewhere, she thought with a sense of relief before throwing open her door and smiling at the visitor.

  “Good morning to you!” the woman called as she reached into the wagon to help a little boy scramble down. The curly-haired boy took off across the yard and knocked loudly on the Flynn’s door while the woman Millie assumed was his mother reached into the wagon for another parcel.

  “Good morning!” Millie answered, crossing the space between them with her hand already out in greeting. She saw that the parcel was actually a brand-new baby, then clapped her hands quietly and smiled. “Oh, you’ve brought me a baby! How nice! Really, you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble though!”

  Moira looked at the woman oddly for a moment before realizing she was only teasing. She joined in Millie’s laughter and then started to introduce herself.

  “Oh, no, don’t tell me! You’ve got a little boy and a new baby, and you knew where to find me. I’ve used my detective skills to reason that you’re Moira MacAteer!” Millie smiled and hugged the astonished woman tightly for a moment before releasing her, keeping her hands on Moira’s arms and looking her up and down. “But you’ve just had a baby! How is it you’re driving all over creation, calling on lonely women?”

  “Oh, ‘tis nothing! After the trouble I had bringing Matthew into the world, this little one was easy!” Moira answered, gesturing to tiny Bridget who slept in her mother’s arms. “But I’ve come to call on you, and to see how you’re getting on here.”

  “Oh, things are quite… interesting,” Millie confided, linking her arm through Moira’s like an old friend and leading her to the open door of her own cabin. “See? I’ve a roof over my head and plenty to keep me busy…”

  No sooner had she spoken than the door to the main cabin opened and three little boys tumbled out, running across the yard and falling over each other. Both women turned to look at the fray and laughed at the sight.

  “That’s my cue, I’d best go rescue little Rose from her bed. Come on, we’ll visit on the porch and keep an eye on these rowdy ones!”

  Moira followed Millie to the main house and watched the boys at play. She loved that Matthew had friends he knew his own age, even if there were miles separating their farms. Back in Ireland, her children would have been raised in her brother’s castle if she’d married a lesser noble, or in her husband’s castle if she’d married equally or better. It was different here in America, that was sure, but it had its merits.

  “Here we are!” Millie announced cheerfully when she emerged with Rose, who sported a clean diaper and gown and was greedily sucking away at a bottle of fresh warm milk. In her other hand, the woman carried a tin plate of leftover grits swimming with butter and more milk, and a delicate little spoon. She joined Moira in one of the ladder back chairs and set about feeding the baby.

  “So how have you enjoyed Montana?” Moira asked, her accent making Millie smile.

  “You know, I haven’t heard anyone who talks like you since I left Boston. You’re Irish, aren’t you?” She smiled when Moira nodded. “Well, Montana’s been… difficult. Or should I say, Mr. Flynn has been difficult.”

  She watched as Moira looked out at the boys, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, you must think I’m a horrible gossip. We’ll talk of something else instead.”

  “No, no, it’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting your response, I’m afeared. So, what’s been difficult for you?” she asked, blinking rapidly and hoping her new friend wasn’t put off by her judgment of her words.

  Millie told her as little as she could, keeping the most damning details to herself. Moira nodded sympathetically, offering only little sounds of encouragement.

  “Well, that certainly is a hard position to be in,” Moira acknowledged when Millie finished. “I was worried that perhaps Pryor—that’s my husband, you met him in New Hope if you remember—rushed Mr. Flynn into an arrangement that he wasn’t ready for, but with his land to work and his children needing to be tended, what else was he to do? It’s not as if you can hire a govern
ess in these parts.”

  “He’d have been better off if he’d hired one, I’m afraid. At least she would have the satisfaction of knowing he was her employer, and not to be her husband! She could quit the position any time it didn’t suit her. But I’m in more of a tenuous position, I suppose.”

  “How do you mean?” Moira asked, genuinely concerned.

  “I have only two choices: marry the brute, or high tail it back to Boston. I’m leaning more and more toward going home every day. I just can’t imagine him ever coming around to seeing me as anything other than a usurper trying to take his dear wife’s place.”

  “Well, she was a wonderful lady if ever there was one,” Moira explained carefully. “Kind at every turn, well-mannered, and devoted to her husband and children. She adored them like no one ever could. ‘Tis a wonder that Mr. Flynn didn’t just lie down and die right beside her when she passed, and I do believe that if it hadn’t been for his children, ‘tis exactly what he would have done.”

  “And doesn’t anyone think that would have been a fine thing to tell me before I traveled all the way to Montana?” Millie asked sharply, but she quickly laughed at her own joke. Moira couldn’t help but smile at her easy, affable ways, but she did truly sympathize with the plight both Millie and Wyatt found themselves in.

  “I can only hope that you and Mr. Flynn come to some sort of understanding, and quickly,” Moira said affectionately. “I know he kept up the correspondence with you and invited you to come to Montana for marriage, but I think ‘tis seeing you in the flesh that has gotten him changing his mind about the whole thing. ‘Tis naught to do with you as a person, I just know it.”

  “Thank you, that does help ease the burden on my heart just a little. I’ve wondered if maybe I was more like his Anna Mae, he wouldn’t have had such a hard time picturing us married. And I really do feel poorly for him, seeing as how his heart has been broken and his children are so young. I only want to be a help to him, to the whole family, really, but I’m just not sure how I can so long as he feels the way he does.”

  “Please give him time, he’s had his heart broken so very badly,” Moira pleaded, rocking her baby gently and keeping her voice low but insistent. “In time, I am certain he’ll come to see you as the wonderful person you are, and not just a poor replacement for what he’s lost.”

  They changed the subject of their conversation to happier topics, and Moira shared with her a good deal of advice for trying to be a farm wife on a homesteader’s claim. They talked about different garden crops that grew well in the region, what types of dry goods could be had at Jorgenson’s store, and how to send letters by post back to her family in Boston.

  When it was finally time for Moira to go, she had to pry Matthew away from Luke and Micah and order him into the wagon. She handed his baby sister up to him and unhitched the horses’ feed bags before heading home. Millie made her promise she would come back to visit often, and Moira promised her she would.

  “I have a grand idea!” Moira cried after settling herself on the wagon seat and taking up the reins. “I’ll send Pryor over to invite all of you to Sunday dinner next week. Mr. Flynn will have no choice but to say yes, and he’ll spend some time with you and the children in sociable company. It will remind him of what he’s been missing all these months.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, just let me know what I can bring to dinner!” Millie promised her with a conspiratorial grin. She waved until Moira’s wagon made the turn toward the old creek bed. She turned and went to the children to garner their help in getting the chores done.

  “Pa said we don’t have to listen to you!” Luke cried adamantly when she bid him to come sweep the floor. Micah looked between Millie and his little brother, unsure of where to pin his loyalties. On the one hand, Luke was family and he was charged with looking after him, but on the other, Millie had been nothing but kind and attentive. She’d fed them and cared for them and hadn’t used so much as a cross word. He stayed silent as he waited to see how it would fare between them.

  “Oh, did he?” Millie asked, raising an eyebrow and looking down at Luke. The younger boy nodded and kicked a tuft of dirt in her direction.

  “He said you’re not my ma and you can’t make me do anything!”

  “And when was this conversation, young man?” she asked, afraid of where the truth was taking his story.

  “Last night, when he whupped us for not minding him!” Luke sat himself down in the dirt and hunched over, refusing to budge. Instead of the scolding he expected, Millie walked over and sat in the dirt beside him, her freshly ironed skirt and apron ignored.

  “Your pa whipped you? For helping me yesterday?” she asked softly. Luke refused to look at her, but he eventually nodded. Millie looked at Micah, who refused to meet her gaze. “You, too, Micah? Did you get a spanking for helping me yesterday?”

  He finally nodded, a tear betraying him by pooling in the corner of his bright wide eyes. “Not for helping you, ma’am, but for disobeying him. He told us to stay on the porch and watch Rose, but we didn’t listen.”

  “But you only disobeyed because of me. Because I said it was all right to get up. I’m sorry, boys. Then it’s my fault, and I should have gotten the whipping,” she explained sadly. Luke finally looked at her.

  “Grown people don’t get whippings, only bad little boys,” he said angrily.

  Millie couldn’t stop herself from what she did next. She threw both arms around Luke and pulled him close to her, sliding the little boy onto her lap and rocking him fervently. He struggled to get out of her arms at first, but only seconds later, he melted against her shoulder and nestled into her embrace. She continued to rock the tiny boy, even as she held out her hand for Micah to join them.

  “Boys, you hear me right now, and you listen good. You did nothing wrong. Your pa was just worried when he got back from the fields and couldn’t find you. It scared him…”

  “Big people don’t get scared,” Luke protested in a quiet voice. “Only babies.”

  “Luke, my dear, that isn’t true. I don’t know where you got ideas about big people and little people, but big people, like your pa and like me, we get scared all the time, about all kinds of things. But mostly, we get scared about bad things happening to little people like you. And that’s why your pa thought he had to punish you for not obeying. But I promise that you won’t ever get punished again for doing what your pa or I tell you to do.”

  Luke gave her a lopsided grin but ducked his head in embarrassment, twisting away from her hug and running in circles around the yard. His brother tagged him as he ran past, and the two brothers rolled in the grass, laughing.

  “You two stay here for a while and watch your sister for me, all right? I’ll be back in just a little while. Don’t go anywhere except the house or the yard, and that is something you have to obey. I’ll be back, I promise.”

  Micah and Luke agreed to mind Rose and Millie made her way to the barn to see if all of Wyatt’s horses were at work in the fields. She found a chestnut colored mare standing idly in her stall. After checking the horse’s hoofs for signs of cracking and to be sure it had been shod recently, she took a halter off a nail on the wall and slipped it over the animal’s head, then led the horse outside by its harness. She climbed astride the animal sideways, letting both of her legs dangle against the mare’s left flank as she nudged it forwards in the direction of Wyatt’s fence line.

  Without a bit and real reins, she couldn’t do more than let the horse trot at a steady pace. It was just as well, because the way her mind was working, the last thing she needed to do was reach Wyatt before she had a chance to calm down.

  Chapter Twelve

  Millie found Wyatt hammering away at a post he’d positioned in the narrow hole he’d dug, securing it in place. His shirt was drenched with sweat and his face was beat red, and every so often, he’d shake his head to send a spray of sweat flying off the ends of his hair. She felt bad for coming out to cause him even more grief, and had
n’t considered that the long walk back to his house each night was the only relief from his difficult day. But one thought of this man’s hand raised to strike his sons was all it took to remind her why she’d come so far.

  “What are you doing, Miss Carter?” he demanded, looking up as she approached. The tone of his voice told her he was clearly afraid for his children, certain that an emergency must be the reason she’d come to find him.

  So he does care about them, she thought warily, wondering what the boys’ punishment must have really been about.

  “I’ve come to speak to you, away from the children, I mean,” she began, willing herself to stare at him without flinching. It was a hard thing, too, given the way his eyes bored angrily back at hers.

  “What of them?” Wyatt asked, letting the sledgehammer he’d been using rest against the toe of his boot, panting as he tried to recover a normal breath.

  “I understand you whipped the boys last night for minding me. Can you tell me how that’s acceptable?”

  “They disobeyed me. It was plain to see they didn’t do as I said and they had to be punished. They’ll follow my orders from now on, I can assure you. Unless you interfere, that is,” he answered drily, turning to go back to his work and effectively dismissing her as he turned his back on her.

  Millie was not one to be shoved aside so easily. She marched around in front of Wyatt and blocked his path, making it impossible to return to his task.

  “Interfere? Is that what you call it when I look after them and care for them? Oh, you just want me to serve them, but not speak to them or interact with them in any way, is that it?”