Christmas Miracles: Mega Mail Order Bride 20-Book Box Set: Multi-Author Box Set

by Jenny Creek Tanner

  The sympathetic looks he had received for a long while were fading, he was reminded, and were turning into looks of disappointment and wariness. But what was he to do? Clinton’s throat constricted. It’s not like he could have planned he’d be raising his sisters. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

  Blocking out the pain, he tugged the horse across the street, straightening up to look his best. But he still wore the same smoky pants he’d worn all day as a blacksmith, his shirt was in desperate need of a good ironing, and his boots were smudged. Though he’d shaved carefully this morning, he had two nicks he was sure stood out in the sunlight.

  He pulled his jacket closer, glancing at the heavy snow that surrounded them. Clinton paused at the station’s platform, raised several feet off the ground. Where would he leave Midnight? Pausing, he glanced around and as he looked, he spotted a young lady who had the same wary expression on her face.

  Chapter 3

  They caught sight of each other at the same time. His heart pounded as their gazes connected, knowing instantly who it must be. Her pretty cheeks grew twice as red as they already were. After a moment’s delay, she waved hesitantly and he found himself doing the same. What else was he supposed to do? His tongue got twisted up as he watched the young lady hasten forward, clutching a large bag awkwardly to her body. She was much more beautiful than he’d expected.

  Mariette carefully walked across the platform towards him. He was a handsome man, she realized as she grew closer. Her heart thudded nearly right out of her chest as she walked down the steps off the platform and came to rest on the ground in front of him. She knew this had to be Clinton. Mariette beamed up at him, wondering if she should speak first.

  “You never mentioned you had a horse,” she said finally.

  “I… didn’t know I should have,” he responded vaguely, glancing at the animal who had found a half-eaten apple in the snow. “Hey!” He pulled the horse away from it, shaking his head.

  Mariette managed a smile. “It’s no problem,” she assured him with a smile. She bravely stepped forward and ran her hand down the side of his neck. Looking away from the horse and back to Clinton, she smiled. “He’s beautiful.”

  “He was my mother’s,” he muttered, glancing between the two of them. Tongue tied, he swallowed and looked away. What was he to say? “We should be going. We’re due for another storm. This way.”

  Clutching her bag, Mariette followed him, lifting her chin and trying to tell herself that his terse greeting didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased to see her. When she wasn’t glancing at him, Mariette was looking around, taking in her new surroundings. Sure enough, Montana was more beautiful than she could have predicted. She’d seen it from the train, but here, standing on snow-covered ground, the view seemed even more impressive.

  Clinton and the horse walked at a steady pace, but Mariette stumbled often, bumping into the horse’s shoulder and nearly slipping on the ice as she went.

  “Oh!” She couldn’t help the gasp from escaping as she stepped on a patch of ice and fell backwards into the snow. He looked at her, his eyes wide and startled. He reached to help her up but she’d already managed to pull herself to her feet. Brushing off the snow from her skirt, she blushed as Clinton stared. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so clumsy,” she mumbled, suddenly abashed.

  It took him a moment to respond. “I, um, well, would you like to ride? It’s why I brought the horse,” he explained after a delay, hesitance creating a shadow across his face. “And your bag—here, let me.” He snatched her bag from her hands and she wrung her hands as he swiftly tied it against the horse’s saddle.

  He turned back to her and, blushing, she tried to meet his gaze but he looked away too quickly. “Oh, well, thank you. I promise, I’m not usually this much trouble.”

  He offered a hand to help her into the saddle. “Here…”

  She smiled and took his hand, noticing the strength in his fingers as he tried to help her up. But her skirts prevented her from stepping high enough to reach the stirrup and she yelped as she stumbled back down to the ground. “Oh no, I’m sorry,” she said.

  He looked from the horse and back down to her. “May I?” He gestured with both hands and Mariette nodded. Clinton lifted her by the waist and set her on the horse. Settling herself, Mariette found her balance easily enough.

  “Thank you,” she told him, and then she looked around. The added height of the horse only gave her a better view of her surroundings. “This is simply beautiful.”

  Clinton looked at the broad smile on her face. She reminded him of the porcelain dolls that his sisters had wanted so badly from a local toy shop when they were children. Their parents, and nearly everyone in town, couldn’t afford to buy them, but they were mighty nice. With delicate skin, big sparkling eyes and perfect honey-colored hair, she was far more beautiful than anyone in town. Suddenly, he was afraid of her. What if she was too pretty, too good for him?

  “Yes, it is,” he said falteringly after a minute. His hands, still warm from where he’d gripped her waist to lift her, tightened on the reins. It was a maneuver he often used with his sisters but it was quite different with her.

  She didn’t seem to notice his nervousness. “Will I meet your sisters soon?” she asked kindly.

  He nodded, glancing around, nearly surprised he couldn’t hear them giggling from out there. “Yes, they’ll be back by supper. They’re off somewhere right now.”

  “Very well.” Mariette creased her forehead but decided not to question it. “I’m quite excited,” she added after a moment. “They sound lovely.”

  That nearly stopped him in his tracks. Why would she think such a thing? The two girls were such a handful. They usually made him want to rip his hair out. It made him wonder exactly what he’d been writing in those letters to make her think she was going to love them.

  “Right,” he mumbled.

  Glancing at him shyly, it twisted Mariette’s insides to see how handsome he was. Even more so than she could have dreamed. Hopefully she wasn’t too much of a mess for him now, after that train ride. She’d hardly been able to make herself presentable with the facilities they offered aboard. Was that why he seemed so distracted? He kept looking around anxiously and then staring at his feet. He’d asked her to come, to marry him. So why didn’t he seem happy that she was here?

  Those thoughts wandered and danced through her mind madly as he checked her into the hotel, and let her drop her bags off. From there, they crossed a street towards a dirt road which soon led to his family’s house. Though only a few hundred yards from the edge of town, it felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere.

  On the left was a larger building, with iron hangings that clearly marked it as the blacksmith’s shop. Behind it sat a barn, since half Clinton’s work came from shoeing the horses. This was where they went, Clinton leading Midnight and Mariette walking beside him. He took off Midnight’s tack and brushed him down as she watched in silence. He wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure what to say.

  Finally, he put Midnight in his stall and turned to her. “So… the uh, the house is this way.” He strode past her and, with long strides, led her into the house.

  “Oh it’s lovely,” she said as soon as they entered.

  Clinton shrugged.

  “Do you mind if I, um, is it all right if I look around?”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s… of course.” Clinton shoved his hands in his pockets and sort of stood there as she wandered around. He followed her into the kitchen, watching as she looked around.

  “Were your sisters planning anything in particular for dinner?” she asked politely, leaning on the counter. “I don’t want them to feel obligated to cook for me or anything. And we could talk while I cook if you want.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, eyes drifting towards the door. “I don’t know. They usually do something. But we hadn’t discussed it.”

  Her smile faded as his reluctance became obvious. This wasn’t going as w
ell as she’d hoped.

  Clinton met her gaze. “You’re a guest, though, and I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  Mariette felt relief sweep through her. She brought her smile back up to her lips. “But I’m asking you.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know,” he said, frowning.

  “Really it’s no trouble. Honestly it would be great to feel useful.”

  Finally, Clinton nodded. “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She beamed up at him, but he didn’t return the smile.

  “I’ve a bit of work to finish up,” he said. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  She looked around the unfamiliar kitchen, but bravely squared her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

  Clinton nodded once and then turned on his heel. Mariette felt herself deflate just a little, but then he popped his head back in the kitchen. “I’ll be just next door if you… if you need anything.”

  Mariette blushed, smiling. “Thank you,” she said softly. And then he was gone.

  Chapter 4

  It felt odd to cook in a house that wasn’t hers, but Mariette managed to find everything she needed. She focused on her work, trying to push all of her worries about Clinton to the back of her mind.

  Once she had mixed everything, there were several loud sounds at once—several doors opening and slamming along with loud voices—all of which cut off and fell into silence as Mariette looked up. Two pairs of eyes stared back, both belonging to two young ladies at the front door.

  The butterflies started up in her stomach all over again. Mariette swallowed hard and forced her nerves down, hurrying forward. Treat them like family, she told herself, and only then could she find her voice.

  “You must be Noelle! And Serena! How lovely it is to finally meet you!”

  She beamed at the girls, wiping her hands on a towel before reaching out to shake their hands, one and then the other. But the girls’ hands were somewhat limp as they watched her curiously. Stepping back, Mariette tried to discreetly run her hands over her face, wondering if some flour had perhaps dusted on her nose.

  “Who’s she?”

  Mariette frowned, but the taller girl wasn’t asking her, however, and she turned to see Clinton standing there trying to catch his breath like he’d just run up the mountains. His wide eyes went between the three ladies and Mariette wondered what was going on.

  “She’s… well, this is…”

  “I’m Mariette,” she said, thinking this would clear everything up.

  “Why are you here?” the younger one asked, cocking her head.

  That question stumped Mariette. Well she knew, and he knew, but did that mean anyone else did. Mariette thought back to their conversations and how little he had said, especially of his sisters. Her mouth fell open.

  “She’s going to, um,” Clinton cleared his throat and wiped a smudge of soot off his cheeks. He looked to Mariette for help on this one again, but she didn’t know what to do. How could he not have told his sisters? “I’ve been writing her,” he grumbled. “And well, we’re going to be married.”

  “You’re engaged?” Both of the girls’ eyes widened in shock, and Mariette realized neither of them had even slightly expected this turn of events.

  “Since when?” Serena demanded as Noelle suddenly turned the rudest glare possible onto Mariette. Not even her younger siblings, who were quite rambunctious, could have managed a scowl this strong. Mariette thought she was about to shrivel up.

  “I can’t believe you would do this to us!” Noelle hissed. “We don’t need anyone! She doesn’t belong here!” And she stormed off.

  Serena looked at them, back and forth with wide eyes. After a moment, she stepped away and hurried after her sister. Mariette locked her jaw, for it was the only way she could keep it from dropping wide open once more.

  “You didn’t tell them?” she heard herself ask him faintly.

  “I didn’t know how to,” he mumbled, grudgingly turning to her.

  They stood before each other, with dustings on their cheeks—him soot and her flour—trying to look one another in the eye but failing to do so. Swallowing hard, the two of them tried to start speaking both at once, but stopped. She motioned for him to go first.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you and I should have told them. But I didn’t know what to do. Since our parents died, nothing has gone right.”

  She pondered this for a moment. She didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t told his sisters, but she could forgive his mistake. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and took one of his hands, which forced him to look at her. “Do you want me here?” she asked him. “Honestly?”

  “Yes,” he said, more quickly than he had intended.

  Mariette nodded, smiling softly as he pulled his hand back, wiping it on his blacksmith apron. “Then I’m here for you. But I must tell you something important. I don’t like surprises,” she said firmly. “And I don’t think they do, either.”

  He smiled weakly, glancing to where the girls had escaped to.

  Mariette sighed. “I’ll finish cooking, and then I’ll go back to the hotel. Maybe we can try a meal together tomorrow.”

  Clearly, Clinton needed to have a long discussion with his sisters, and she intended to leave them to it.

  When Clinton looked up, he was again amazed at how lovely she looked. Especially in this candlelight, with her hair falling loose around her shoulders and flour covering her nose. He nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  “Perfect,” he echoed absently, still gazing at her eyes.

  “Per—um,” she caught herself, looking away as she blushed. As he also turned away, he wore a grin she couldn’t see. She smiled to herself and went back to the table and her mixing bowls.

  Not wanting to cause any more distress than she already had, Mariette set the table for three, compete with napkins folded and glasses filled. Soon the stew was cooked and wafting delicious smells throughout the house. Not wanting to keep them waiting, Mariette cleaned what dishes she could and hurried out to the blacksmith shop to tell Clinton.

  He was just cleaning up, organizing his tools against the wall when she knocked. He paused, turning to look over his shoulder at her. Her eyes drifted for a moment, looking around before coming back to him. She waved.

  “Supper’s on the table,” she assured him.

  He nodded and headed towards her. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  Sighing, she shook her head. “I don’t want to be in the way, not tonight. Unless you think it’s best?” she asked after a minute, not sure of what to expect with his sisters.

  Clinton grimaced, pausing to wash his hands. “Perhaps not.”

  The little seedling of hope deflated and she forced herself to shrug it off. “Well, I suppose I’ll be going, then. Back to the hotel.” She half-turned to the door, and then paused, looking back at him, waiting for him to say something.

  But he didn’t know what to say. His mouth turned dry and he couldn’t even manage a smile, no matter how grateful he was that she seemed to be handling his mistake graciously.

  “Good night,” she mumbled, turning for the exit.

  He watched, gritting his jaw. “Are you—”

  She turned to look back at him.

  “I mean, good night,” he said finally, and she nodded once, before walking out the door.

  She thought long and hard on the walk back into town. Taking in a deep breath of air, Mariette’s gaze wandered but her mind was focused on Clinton. He had clearly been ill prepared for her arrival, she realized, but that didn’t bother her as much as his attitude towards her. She couldn’t decipher his reactions, couldn’t truly tell if he meant it when he said he wanted her to be there.

  Her smile faded into a small frown, creasing her soft lips as she spotted the hotel and hurried towards it. Trying not to shiver, she thought of the family she was attempting to become part of. Clinton had told her th
ey’d lost their parents but she hadn’t realized it must have affected their family dynamic.

  Sighing, Mariette hurried inside to the warmth and her room. With one eye on the beautiful whiteness she could see through the window. She had the other on her Bible. Maybe she would find answers to her questions there. Could she help them? Did they want the help? What was she to do? With these thoughts invading her mind, Mariette fell into a restless sleep.

  Clinton, for his part, put off going into the house to talk to his sisters. He took his time in the blacksmith shop, cleaning tools twice and spending more time sweeping the floor than he could ever remember spending before. He wasn’t sure exactly why he hadn’t told them about Mariette. Maybe he hadn’t wanted them to worry he wouldn’t find anyone or worry that he couldn’t take care of them on his own.

  He certainly hadn’t meant for them to find out this way. And he hadn’t meant for Mariette to learn that he hadn’t told them about her. He could only imagine how that had made her feel. He sighed, leaning against a bench and hanging his head. He really couldn’t seem to do anything right.

  Gathering himself, he squared his shoulders and headed into the house. It was time to talk with his sisters.

  Chapter 5

  The next day, Mariette woke up and wondered what she was to do. Brushing her hair, she sat on her bed and looked out the window. It was utterly beautiful with snow softly falling down and mountains in the background. The wind swept the snow around, making the flakes look like they were dancing.

  Her mind slowed and she thought of little else as she looked out the window. Mariette could almost hear the music, and hummed softly as she brushed her hair. It was peaceful.

  When the snow stopped and the skies began to clear up, she sighed and pulled away from the window. Slowly, she got dressed, preparing herself for the day. But as she finished, the thoughts returned and she realized there were no plans for the day. She didn’t know if she was expected to be anywhere, or if she should expect anyone.