The Mail-Order Brides Collection

by Megan Besing

  Luke assured the man he’d be there posthaste despite the lack of funds and returned to the cabin to find Phoebe readying his medical bag.

  “I heard.” She glanced around the cabin. “I wasn’t certain what else you might need for a difficult birth.”

  “I’d like you to join me,” he said, pleased with her efficiency. “I’m sure having another woman near would help ease the mother’s discomfort.”

  Phoebe agreed and hurried to ready herself while Luke saddled the mules. He feared the pace he set might be too fast for her, but she proved determined to stay seated and kept up admirably.

  Arriving at the camp, they found the Negro man standing next to a rickety wagon draped with a canvas covering. Luke dismounted then helped Phoebe down.

  “This is my wife,” he said to the man, realizing how proud he was to introduce Phoebe in such a manner.

  “Ma’am,” the man said, tipping his hat. “My name’s Calvin Mathews. My wife is Julia. We’s from Texas. Thought to come try our hand at gold minin’.” A soft moan came from the wagon, and he frowned. “Didn’t count on the little one, but Julia…she be happy ’bout him.”

  “Let me take a look at your wife.” Luke moved to the opening in the canvas at the back of the wagon. Inside the dim interior, he set about examining Calvin’s exhausted and barely conscious wife. After a few minutes, he poked his head out the opening.

  “The good news is I don’t believe anything is obstructing the birth canal.” Calvin’s brow lifted. “But,” Luke continued, not wanting to give false hope to the father, “if my guess is correct, the baby is very large. It’s going to take a lot of work to bring him into the world. I’ll need some hot water and towels.” While Calvin set off to see to the supplies, Luke turned to Phoebe. “The mother is all but unconscious. It’ll take both of us to help her deliver the child.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened, but she nodded. Luke assisted her into the wagon despite the crowded conditions. She took her place at the front toward the driver’s seat, with Julia’s head resting near her knees.

  “Her contractions are weak. When I tell you, lift Julia’s shoulders while I push the baby downward.”

  Phoebe nodded again. He put his hand on Julia’s protruding belly, waiting for the next contraction. It came within moments.

  “Now,” Luke said. He used firm strokes to encourage the baby downward. Phoebe lifted the limp woman’s shoulders and settled in behind her, offering words of encouragement while the mother moaned.

  They repeated this scenario over and over. Calvin remained outside, peering in occasionally, wringing his hands. Finally, after more than two hours, the baby’s head crowned. Julia roused enough to give a great push, clinging to Phoebe’s hands as she brought forth her son.

  Immediately, Luke began to work on the baby, whose round face appeared blue in the dim light of the wagon. He rubbed the infant with a towel and used his finger to clear the airway. When that didn’t work, he turned the baby upside down and smacked his tiny rump.

  A beautiful, angry wail was his reward.

  Calvin’s worried face appeared in the opening. “He be all right?”

  “You have a healthy boy, Calvin. My wife is going to clean him up a bit.”

  Phoebe crawled along the wagon bed to where Luke held the squalling baby. Their gazes locked, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

  “You saved him,” she whispered.

  He so desired to kiss her right then, but it was not the time. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  After Luke cut the cord, Phoebe wrapped the baby in a blanket and climbed from the wagon with Calvin’s assistance. Luke heard their voices outside while he helped Julia complete the birthing process. Once he was satisfied the new mother was out of danger, he climbed down stiffly from the wagon.

  “Doc, I can’t thank you enough for what you done.” Calvin approached, his son cradled in his arms. The baby took in his surroundings with bright, albeit, puffy eyes.

  “You have a fine boy there. I’m sure his mama would like to see him now.”

  Calvin disappeared into the back of the covered wagon. Luke closed his eyes, relieved the potentially life-ending crisis had reached such a joyful resolution.

  “You were wonderful in there.” Phoebe’s soft voice brought his eyes open. She stood next to him, looking as though he’d hung the moon in the sky.

  “We make a good team.” His gaze caressed her face.

  She offered a hesitant smile.

  He watched her tidy the camp, admiring the curve of her hips and the way her honey-gold hair fell down her back, tied with a simple ribbon at the base of her neck. He didn’t want to rush her, knowing they had the rest of their days to live as man and wife. Although their circumstances required a different kind of courting—couples didn’t typically share a bed in courtship—he’d do his best to woo his wife and bide his time.

  Because one thing became perfectly clear in Luke’s mind.

  He was falling in love with Phoebe.

  A cool afternoon breeze swept through the open cabin door, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine and sunshine. Phoebe smiled from her place in the comfy chair Luke had purchased before she arrived. Although Kansas held a beauty of its own with its rolling plains and farmland, in the brief time since her arrival in Carson Springs, she found herself captivated by the Rocky Mountains.

  Mug in hand, she took a sip of coffee, enjoying the quiet solitude of the cabin. Luke had gone into town to place his order at the mercantile for several medical instruments as well as other supplies he was running low on. He’d invited her along, but Phoebe had declined. The laundry needed washing, and she still hadn’t written to Aunt Augusta. Luke nodded in understanding, but she couldn’t mistake the disappointment in his eyes.

  She sighed and gazed on the beauty beyond the door. It pleased her to know her husband enjoyed her company. When she accepted his proposal for marriage, all manner of terrible scenarios had played across her mind as she traveled west. That Dr. Luke Preston had turned out to be a kind, handsome man was more than she’d hoped for. Their future looked far brighter than she’d dared imagine two months ago.

  But marriage to Luke hadn’t diminished the one obstacle that kept her from giving herself freely to her new husband. Her heart belonged to Danny. To make the situation more complicated, there was her deceit regarding her Confederate sympathies during the war. Thus far, she’d avoided any talk of which side she’d stood in allegiance with, but she knew that couldn’t last throughout the long years of their marriage. And from the few comments he’d made regarding his loathing of all things Confederate, she wasn’t certain how Luke would react when he learned his wife’s father and fiancé had both supported the South.

  Phoebe glanced at the Bible in her lap. It had belonged to Papa, and she could still hear his voice as he read passages each morning before they started their day. Papa hadn’t approved of slavery, but his family came from Tennessee, and he felt very strongly that states should govern themselves, even when it came to the issue of slavery. He’d admired President Lincoln though, and Phoebe wondered if perhaps Papa might have been persuaded to change his views had he lived long enough.

  Memories of the dark day her father was murdered surfaced in her mind. She closed her eyes against them, but nothing could ever remove the horror she’d felt when she saw his broken body lying in the street when she’d gone in search of him. The war had arrived at their back door, with a battle being raged over the Missouri border. Casualties ran in the thousands, and Papa went to help, tending men from both sides. A witness told her Unionists found him giving aid to a wounded Confederate soldier. They beat him senseless, dragged him through the streets, and left him to die.

  A shudder raced through her. Phoebe opened her eyes and wiped at the trail of tears that wet her cheeks. Poor Papa. She counted it a blessing she remained ignorant of the details of how Danny perished. The simple fact that he would never return to her was nearly more than she could bear
.

  A folded letter peeked out from the pages of the Bible. She took the familiar missive in hand and read the precious words that were practically engraved on her heart:

  My darling Phoebe,

  I write this from the side of the road as we stop to rest. We are marching north to Pennsylvania, although I can’t tell you exactly where. The excitement we feel as we prepare to roust the Federals makes the long march bearable. I consider myself fortunate to be here, when many of our Kansas boys are out West, far from the action. General Lee, it is said, believes this battle could well decide the war, and I wholeheartedly agree.

  I think of you often, my darling. Stay busy making preparations for our wedding, for the moment this war is over, I will make you my wife!

  Yours forever,

  Danny

  It was dated June 28, 1863, less than two months after he’d turned eighteen and joined the Confederate States Army. His name had already appeared on the list of soldiers who perished at Gettysburg by the time his letter reached Phoebe.

  A noise outside alerted her to Luke’s return. She hurried to tuck the folded keepsake back into the book and laid it on the seat of the chair as she stood. One day soon she’d need to make a full confession to her husband, but for now the memories of Danny and her father would remain hers alone.

  Luke filled the doorway a few moments later, his arms loaded with brown-paper-wrapped packages.

  “I see you’re enjoying the glorious day.” He smiled as he came inside and deposited his burden on the table.

  “I am. I hope you don’t mind, but I found a rope in the lean-to and strung it behind the cabin for the laundry.” She didn’t mention the carrot she snuck to Dolly while searching for something to use as a clothesline.

  “I don’t mind. When it was just me, I hung my washing from the rafters.” At her raised brow, he grinned. “I suppose I’ll need to make a permanent place to dry laundry.” He glanced at the packages on the table, and his grin widened. “In fact, I’ll have to make it extra long to hold all of your clothes.”

  “Mine?” She frowned. Surely he’d noticed she only owned three dresses.

  He picked up the largest of the packages and handed it to her, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “What is this?” His behavior puzzled her. She hadn’t asked for anything from the store.

  “Open it and see.”

  She carefully removed the paper and gasped. Yards of various colored fabrics spilled onto the table. Blue, yellow, stripped. Some lightweight, some sturdier wool. There was even a length of soft flannel, perfect for a new nightgown.

  She stared at the mound of material then looked up at Luke, confused.

  He smiled. “I wasn’t certain if you sewed for yourself, but Mrs. Frank assures me there is a capable seamstress in town if need be. She put some patterns and sewing items in one of these packages.”

  Understanding dawned, and Phoebe stilled. “You bought all of this…for me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Many brides have a trousseau made before their wedding. In our case, yours will come after the ceremony.”

  She stood openmouthed. His thoughtfulness touched her in the deepest places of her heart. “Thank you.”

  Their eyes held for a long moment before he leaned toward her. She thought he intended to kiss her, but his lips tenderly brushed her forehead instead, in much the same way he’d done on their wedding night.

  “I suppose you’ll have to take charge of our reading time in the evenings,” she said to cover the rush of emotion his caring gesture and warm kiss wrought. “I’ll be happily occupied until winter, I suspect, with all my sewing.”

  The look of pure satisfaction on Luke’s face stayed with her throughout a very enjoyable evening.

  Chapter 6

  The following morning over a breakfast of warm oatmeal with molasses and butter, Luke said, “I’ve been thinking about something, and I’d like your opinion.” Phoebe glanced up from her meal, her brow raised with curiosity. “Oh?”

  “I’m considering opening an office in town.” He paused, gauging her initial reaction. After a look of interest filled her eyes, he continued. “When I first arrived in Carson Springs, I wasn’t certain I wanted to put down roots. But now,” he said, an involuntary smile forming on his lips as he looked across the table to his wife, “with all that’s happened, it feels like the right time to make things permanent.”

  “I see,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “Papa had an office and an examination room on the first floor of our house. Of course we lived in town, making it convenient for patients.”

  Luke nodded, happy to have a wife who understood the practical side of a doctor’s life. “I’ve thought about simply adding a room to the cabin, but as you say, convenience for the patient is of utmost importance. While I was in town yesterday, I noticed one of the shops is vacant. I’m thinking of renting it.”

  “Would you keep regular hours?”

  “The clinic would be open three or four days a week at first. People could come see me as their needs arise, so there isn’t a way to know for certain when someone will require the doctor.” He grinned. “You needn’t fear about being lonely without me. I’d like you to work alongside me.”

  After a momentary look of astonishment, the corners of her mouth lifted. “I must admit I’ve enjoyed accompanying you as you tended your patients. It reminds me of times I spent with Papa.” She glanced about the small cabin. “But I wouldn’t want to neglect my household responsibilities.”

  Giving in to his desire, Luke reached across the table and folded her small hand in his. “I promise to help here at home. You might be surprised at how well I can wash dishes or sweep the floor.”

  His teasing didn’t elicit the smile he’d hoped for. Instead, she stared at their hands, blinking several times, almost as though she fought tears. Had he wounded her feelings somehow?

  She seemed to gather herself. “I think it sounds like a fine idea.” Only the slight tremor in her voice told him something was amiss despite her favorable words. Perhaps later he’d raise the discussion again and watch for any sign as to what might have upset her. It had been long years since he’d dealt with the females in his family on a daily basis.

  Thinking back to his youth, he recalled days when his mother ended up in tears, usually due to a misspoken word on his father’s part. He’d need to remember women often didn’t think like men, which—he grinned—wasn’t always a bad thing.

  He released her hand and resumed the meal. “I thought to check on the Mathews family this morning. If you’d rather not come, I understand.”

  She cheered up. “I’d love to see how Julia and the baby are doing.”

  Pleased, Luke helped clear the table then headed outside to ready the mules, whistling a happy tune. He chuckled when he found the animals cozied up next to each other.

  “Looks like the two of you are getting along well,” he said. “Maybe you can give me some advice.”

  Although he jested, as he saddled the animals he wondered if perhaps he did need some advice. Not from a mule, of course, but from someone who knew a thing or two about marriage. Reverend Whit and Eula had celebrated their thirtieth anniversary last fall with a small reception at the church. If anyone could offer sound marital counsel, it would be the man who’d talked him into marriage in the first place. Leading the mules to the front of the cabin, Luke decided he’d go see the Whitakers later that afternoon.

  Phoebe joined him in the yard, a bundle in her hands. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to give them a bit of the flannel you bought me so Julia can make a few baby things. I also thought she could use some extra nourishment, so I included some bread, bacon, and cheese.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” he said. His wife’s compassion for others only increased his admiration of her.

  The baby’s wails came from the wagon and greeted them when they arrived at the sparse camp. “Mornin’, Doc. Missus,” Calvin said.

  “H
ow are the patients today?” Luke asked, dismounting. The crying came to an abrupt halt, telling evidence that it was dinnertime for the little guy. Luke moved to assist Phoebe from the saddle, wishing he could let his hands linger on her narrow waist a bit but knowing she would be embarrassed if he did.

  “Julia’s still tired, but she be stronger. The little one,” Calvin said, grinning, “he gonna wear us both out, he’s so feisty.”

  Luke and Phoebe laughed.

  “We brought you a few things,” Phoebe said, offering the bundle. “As a gift to celebrate your son’s birth.”

  Calvin hesitated to accept it. “That real nice, Mrs. Doc, but we the ones who owes you fine folks for all you done.”

  Phoebe smiled easily. “Every baby deserves a few gifts. Why, even the wise men brought gifts to the Baby Jesus.”

  Dipping his head, Calvin received the package. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  “Calvin?” Julia called from inside the wagon.

  He excused himself and poked his head through the flap. A moment later, he returned holding the baby, who smacked his lips contentedly.

  “Oh, he’s darling.” Phoebe reached to run her finger over the baby’s tiny hand. Her reward was having her finger grasped in a firm hold.

  Julia peeked out from the back of the wagon then, a shy smile on her face. She looked a sight better than the last time they’d seen her.

  After greeting them, Julia’s eyes welled with tears. “Like my man said, we can’t thank you folks enough for what you done.” She looked at Calvin and nodded.

  Calvin walked over to Luke and offered the baby. Confused, Luke took the warm bundle in his arms, once again thankful this difficult birth had turned out so well.

  “Doc, we ain’t got nothin’ to give you for helpin’ us in our time of need, but we’d be honored to name our boy after you.”

  Luke stared at the man, shocked by the announcement. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “We want to always remember your kindness toward us. If it weren’t for you, I might not have my boy or my wife today.” When Luke nodded in acceptance, Calvin grinned. “This here be Preston Mathews.”