by Jillian Hart
“Has our boy been giving you any trouble?”
“Only the best kind.” It ought to have been impossible to be any happier, but more joy rose through her as they gazed down at their son, little Adam Gabriel, his button face scrunched up, his dark tousled hair the same shade as his pa’s. He was a wonder, perfect and dear. The proof of their love, the most precious gift of all.
“I bet Ma stopped by every day I was gone to see this little guy.”
“Every day.” Not that she minded. Mary wasn’t just a mother-in-law, but a true mother. She’d been by to help out in every way she could, not only to dote on her new grandson. “I’m afraid that she’s doing too much, what with helping out with Savannah’s new son and Clara’s baby daughter.”
“We’re keeping her busy, that’s for sure, but trust me. This is what she wanted. Ma is living her best dream, and so am I.” The way Gabe lit up, she knew it was true.
“Did I mention how much I love my husband?” she asked, blinking hard to keep the happy tears at bay.
“No, why don’t you show me?” His eyes darkened, both loving and desiring at once.
She intended to do just that. She tingled with anticipation as his lips claimed hers, promising a lifetime of love to come.
MARRIED IN MISSOURI
Carolyn Davidson
Dear Reader,
Once more I’ve met and married off two delightful characters. They were born and lived in my imagination for several weeks as I wrote their story for this anthology. Lucas and Elizabeth had a tough row to hoe, making a marriage work in a situation that was not conducive to happy ever after. Just my sort of story, and I enjoyed solving their problems and watching them fall in love.
I write old-fashioned love stories for you, my readers. My mail tells me that many of you involve yourselves in the lives and loves I create on my computer. And to those of you who have shared my work and even written me lovely notes of appreciation for the stories I’ve created, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Spring brides are always a marvelous subject, allowing a writer to take off in many directions. And marriages of convenience were much the norm in the days gone by. Unlike many unions today, marriage in the nineteenth century was a forever business, and not entered into lightly. It is of those long-ago times that I write, for I sometimes think I should have been born a hundred years or so before my time. I yearn for the old-fashioned lifestyle, the values cherished by so many in those days, and the simple pleasures of hearth and home that made up towns and villages and the families they sheltered.
But we live in the here and now and it is only in our imaginations that we can travel through time to the olden days. I hope my stories continue to please those of you who have become my friends throughout the past years. Sit back and read about Lucas and Elizabeth, share their lives for a short while and know that they were written with loving care from this author.
Carolyn Davidson
This story was written with my daughter-in-law, Rebecca, peeking over my shoulder. Perhaps not literally, but certainly in spirit, for she was enthusiastic over the finished product and has been a cheering section of one for this writer. To you, Rebecca, I offer this novella with my love and appreciation.
Prologue
Boston, Massachusetts
May, 1869
The piece of newsprint was folded and creased, the result of having been opened and read many times over. Now it was drawn from Elizabeth Collins’s pocket for the first time today, then offered to her friend Laura. The ad appeared to be forthright enough. It asked for a woman of mature age, experienced with children and able to travel to Missouri with the purpose of marriage in mind.
The gentleman described in the ad was Lucas Harrison, a man in his mid-thirties, who farmed over two hundred acres outside the town of Thomasville, southwest of St. Louis. A widower with two children, he was seeking a woman willing to become his wife and tend to his home and family.
“I’ve decided I can do that,” Elizabeth said stoutly. “I’ve been tending children most of my life, and I can cook and sew and keep house with the best of them. And I’m definitely of mature age.”
“I’d say so, being as your thirtieth birthday is right around the corner, so to speak,” her friend Laura said, laughing at the face Elizabeth made in response to her blunt language.
“I sent off a letter to the man over three weeks ago,” Elizabeth said quietly, and Laura made the expected response.
“You what?”
“You heard me. I sent him my acceptance, should he be willing to consider me for the job of tending his children and his home. And according to the mail I picked up at the post office this morning, I’ll soon be in Missouri.”
“He’s not asking for a cook or child tender, Lizzie, but a wife.”
“I’m willing to be a wife. In fact, I was more than willing before Amos Rogers jilted me for my sister.” A fact Elizabeth admitted with reluctance, for she’d thought herself in love with Amos, and heartbroken at his perfidy. If she’d experienced a sense of relief over the past years that Amos had jilted her so unexpectedly, it was kept to herself. For after watching his seeming inability to accept the responsibilities of his position as husband and father to two children, Elizabeth recognized her own disdain for the man. Watching her sister’s unhappiness with Amos, Elizabeth knew she was the more fortunate of the two women, and she was ready and willing to seek her fortune elsewhere. As wife to Lucas Harrison.
Laura sniffed disdainfully as she spoke her mind on the matter of Amos and his wife. “I always knew Sissy was a troublemaker. She proved it the day she walked down the aisle to Amos.”
Elizabeth nodded and shrugged her acceptance of the fact. “Well, she’s the one married, and I’m the one left to answer an ad in the newspaper for a mail-order bride, it seems.”
“Are you sure you’re not just looking for a chance to leave your beloved sister and her husband behind and get as far from Boston as you can go?” Laura asked.
“I’m sure that’s part of my reason. I hate watching Amos playing my sister for a fool, leaving her to tend two babies while he waltzes around flirting with other women. It seems that he only wanted Sissy until after they were well married and she began having babies. Then he was ready for new game, and she’s the one picking up the pieces.
“Another part of my reason for answering the ad is I’ve always yearned to see the western half of the country, and this might be my only chance. Even if it means I’ll be married and tied to a man and his sons. If I stay here, what future do I have?” she asked her friend, but then answered her own query. “I’ll be keeping house for the rest of my days for the local minister. Or running the quilting society.”
“You’ve done all that and more,” Laura said.
“And where has it got me? Without a husband or a home of my own. Now I have a chance for both in my future. It seems that Lucas Harrison has accepted my offer, and I’ll be a married lady with two children right off the bat. A house to run and a family to tend. That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted, Laura. A home of my own. It’s for certain I won’t live with my sister and Amos, even though Sissy has made it plain she’d gladly give over the care of her children if I wanted to move in with them. I’d never leave my parents for such a reason. But leaving home with a marriage and a family in my future is a different matter altogether.”
“That’s true enough. And heaven knows you have experience enough with tending children. You’ve put in six years at the orphanage looking after the children there—what the church board would call your Christian duty, for lack of better words.”
“Well, whatever you call it, it’s certainly prepared me for the job in question, Laura. I can be a proper mama to two dear little boys. And I’ve already made arrangements to leave on Monday morning. I’ll take a train to St. Louis and then a stagecoach to Thomasville, where I’ll be met by Lucas Harrison. He’s sent me the fare and asked that I wire him my expected time of arrival.”
&n
bsp; Laura sat back on the sofa, stunned by the rapid turn of events. “I didn’t realize you were this serious about it, Lizzie. It’s a big move to make.”
“I’m going home to pack, and come Monday, I’ll be gone. You can tell my sister goodbye for me when you see her next.”
Laura’s face lit with surprise. “Your family isn’t to know where you’ve gone, are they?”
“I’ll not tell any of them ahead of time, for once I’ve gone, it’ll be too late to try to talk me out of it. And my mind is made up. I’m going to Thomasville, Missouri.”
Laura sighed and shook her head. “To get married to a stranger.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter One
Thomasville, Missouri
June, 1869
Lucas Harrison read the wire he held in his hand. Just received from Otto, the gentleman in the railway office, it was no surprise to him, yet he knew it signaled a turning point in his life. One he would not be able to reverse, even if he so chose. “Will arrive Wednesday on morning stage.”
“That says it all,” he muttered, stuffing the paper into his pocket and meeting the puzzled gaze of the stationmaster as he did so. “I’m gonna get married, Otto,” he said with a smile.
“Kinda sudden, ain’t it?” Otto asked. He was new to the job. The tracks from St. Louis were only just being laid, and the first task was to ready the station in Thomasville for the eventual appearance of a daily train from the city. But in the meantime, Otto had been hired to oversee the work in preparation for the big event. And to man the telegraph line from the city.
Lucas laughed as he thought of the sudden decision he’d made. “Naw. Been a widower for three years, and my young’uns need a new mama and my house could use some help.” His brow furrowed as he considered his decision. He was tired of being mother and father both to his sons, and it was more than true that the house was suffering the loss of a woman’s hand. Even with his willingness to tackle the job, he’d found that farming his two hundred acres and tending to the boys was more of a job than he could handle alone.
Otto’s voice cut into his meandering thoughts. “Your house needs a woman who knows how to clean. Is that what you mean?” Otto Cunningham had visited the farm more than once over the past months and knew the state of the Harrison home.
Lucas grinned. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m not much of a hand with scrubbin’ my duds out on a washboard, and my cooking leaves a bit to be desired, you might say.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Burned eggs and tough beefsteaks were getting mighty hard to tolerate.
Otto leaned over the counter, speaking in a low voice, as though he offered a secret into Lucas’s hearing. “There’s plenty of women hereabouts who’d jump at the chance to marry Lucas Harrison, in case you didn’t know it.”
“Maybe so, but none of them is what I’ve got in mind. I had a wife who was just about perfect. In fact, the only thing Doris did that upset me was to die and leave me with the two children.” That, and the fact that she was not cut out to be a farmer’s wife, what with her dainty ways and tendency to sicken and go to bed at the drop of a hat.
Otto nodded sagely. “Yup, I’d say that was enough to upset any man.”
“Well, I looked over the whole town, and the only women who were available were either too full of themselves to be a farmer’s wife or looked to be dragging their feet when it came to takin’ on another woman’s children. I looked high and low for a decent candidate and there wasn’t one hereabouts that fit the bill when it came to my children. And that’s one thing I won’t back down from. This gal says she’s looked after young’uns aplenty and she can cook and sew and keep house. What more can a man ask?”
“Maybe a pretty face and a shape that wouldn’t scare off a suitor?”
Lucas shrugged. “I’ll settle for a kind disposition and a willingness to work. I’m willing to overlook a few faults in a woman if she can measure up to what I’ve got in mind. Large or skinny, homely or easy to look at, it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference to me.”
Otto looked at his pocket watch and offered a view of it to his friend. “We’ll soon know what she looks like, anyway. That stage is due to roll down the road in about an hour. Good luck, Lucas. I have a notion you’re gonna need it.”
With a wave of his hand at Otto, Lucas took his leave of the stationmaster and walked back to the general store where his rig was parked, his team tied to the hitching rail before the emporium. He went inside and approached the counter. “You got my order of hardware all ready for me, Harvey? I’ll be headin’ home in about an hour.”
“I’ll have my boy load it up in the back of your wagon, Lucas.” He glanced behind his customer. “Where’s your young’uns?”
“Left them over at the barbershop. Thought it was a good idea to get their ears lowered a bit this morning. And I’m glad I did. My bride is going to arrive on the morning stage from St. Louis in about an hour.”
“Otto said you were looking for a lady to show up. She’s finally gonna make it, huh?”
“I put an ad in the newspaper—several papers, in fact—all over the East Coast. Got a few answers, and this one seemed to be the best of the bunch.”
“Does the lady have a name?” Harvey asked.
“She’s Elizabeth Collins. Formerly of Boston.”
“Soon to be Elizabeth Harrison, of Thomasville, Missouri.”
“That’s the plan,” Lucas felt a surge of elation that his plan was coming to pass.
Harvey held up a hand. “Listen. Ain’t that the stage now? It’s early.”
“Sure is.” Lucas drew his pocket watch from his trousers and checked the time. “Almost forty minutes early, as a matter of fact. Must have harnessed up some fast horses at the last way station.”
He turned with a wave of his hand and walked to the front of the store. Through the door he watched as the stagecoach pulled up with a flourish before the hotel, directly across the street. The driver jumped down and tossed three bags from the top of the coach, a cloud of dust billowing as they hit the ground.
He opened the door and as Lucas watched, he handed a lady from the interior, a dark-garbed woman of perhaps thirty years of age, dark-haired beneath the bonnet she wore. She spoke to the driver and he waved at the hotel, apparently designating it as the place for her to wait. Then he deposited her luggage on the porch beside her before he climbed atop his coach and snapped the reins over his team of horses.
“There’s my bride,” Lucas said quietly, taking note of the lady’s height, for she was a tall one. Not particularly pretty, but presentable, he decided. Definitely with a hefty shape, and healthy looking to boot.
He left the general store and strode across to the hotel, lifting a hand in greeting. “Ma’am? I’m Lucas Harrison. I take it you’re the lady who wrote me in answer to my ad?”
“I’m Elizabeth Collins, sir,” she replied, meeting his gaze with a forthright look from blue eyes.
He stepped up onto the sidewalk beside her and nodded at her bags. “I’ll take these over to my rig. I’m in front of the dry goods store across the road. You want to wait here till I load them up?”
“I’ll wait.” Her stance was unchanging, her posture erect, her hands clasped before her. Purely a lady, through and through, Lucas thought with a smile. Staunch and sturdy, a true New Englander.
Lucas picked up the bags, stowing one beneath his arm, his grip on the other two firm as he lifted them and toted them to the wagon, where they fit nicely next to his supplies from the emporium. Untying the team from the hitching rail, he grasped the bridle and turned the horses, then crossed the road to where Elizabeth, his bride, waited.
He stepped onto the sidewalk and led her to the rig. His hands fit against her waist neatly and he lifted her onto the seat, unable to help noting the feel of her in his grasp. She was no lightweight, that was for certain, but her body was that of a woman, not a girl. She had hips enough to spare and her bosom was worthy of the name. He coul
d not help but feel a surge of desire as he looked up at blue eyes and dark hair, and a face that was strong and lips that pressed together with determination.
His seat beside her was easily gained and he turned his team to the barbershop, where his children awaited his return. Josh was at the doorway, Toby already on the sidewalk, both of them sporting fresh haircuts, their tan line far below the edge of their shorn locks.
“Pa, we wondered where you was,” Josh said, climbing up onto the back of the wagon. His brother squirmed to a seat beside him, both of them settling behind the wooden seat.
“I went to pick up Miss Collins from the stage stop,” Lucas said briefly. He introduced the boys, then turned to the woman who had come here to be his bride.
“We can do this one of two ways, ma’am—either go to the minister’s home now and have a ceremony, or you might want to take a look at what you’re getting into, first. I’ll be happy to take you to my farm for a look-see and let you make up your own mind.”
“I made up my mind when I sent you an acceptance letter, sir,” she said quietly. “I have nothing to return to Boston for. I’ve cut all ties there. So unless you’ve changed your mind over the past few minutes, I’m ready to marry you now.”
“That will put you smack-dab in my bedroom come nightfall, ma’am,” he said quietly, lest his sons hear his words. “If you want to wait, you can take your time about it, but it will happen one time or another, so far as I’m concerned.”
She looked up at him and her gaze was direct. “I have no need to consider the matter, Lucas. I said I’d marry you and it might as well be today as tomorrow. I’m well aware that being married generally includes sharing a bed. It’s not called a marriage bed without good reason.”