Mail Order Bride: 9 Book Boxed set : 9 Brides for 9 Cowboys: CLEAN Western Historical Romance Series Bundle

by Faye Sonja

  “I am happy you are coming father. But why?”

  His father, known to most as Elder Hamm, sighed with relief. “Because if I don’t, your mother would talk me to death in all her excitement.”

  They both had a long and hearty laugh at the truth to that predicament. She had been going on and on for days now. “Do you think I have made the right decision father?”

  “We will have to wait and see what she looks like,” his father teased again. It was a refreshing difference to the deep talks he had been having with his mother for weeks now. All she had wanted to do was to make sure that her son understood that his role in the house would change once he was married. She had even gone as far as to give him a long telling to about the fact that she expected her home to be well-populated with grandchildren. He had nearly gone crazy with all her expectations, so to have his father make light of the moment was refreshing.

  “I hope she will be fine.”

  They spoke of the possibility of him building his own house on the ride to the train station. It was a surprising conversation because his older brother had not been made that offer.

  “Your brother still has a lot of growing up to do, and his wife needs to learn more about our custom so he can stay on with us. But you will need your own space. If this harvest pays off then we will start the work on your own home and barn house,” his father said.

  Not being the type of man to bounce about with excitement, he kept quiet but he was brimming with joy. His own space would be greatly appreciated. And that was the conversation that brought them to the moment of truth.

  The train station was a busy hustle of bodies and bags running about. He side-stepped some tearful good-byes, children running after their parents and station guards making sure to keep the peace. But even amidst all that he could make her out. His eyes zoned in on her from a distance and his throat went dry. It was not her blue tunic and apron that set her apart; nor was it the bonnet perched atop her head of brunette hair. It was something way more than that. It was as if her heart spoke to his from a distance and he made his way to her ignoring the bodies that jostled him along the way.

  “There she is,” he whispered to his father as she lifted her face to look his way and her timid grey eyes found his. A man rudely bumped her in the arm a she stood there and he wanted to walk after him and pull him back for an apology. He wanted no harm coming to her.

  When he stood before her he lost himself in the hopeful calm of her eyes and it was his father who had to nudge him back to reality. “H-Hi. I am John Hamm,” he identified himself.

  She smiled and though her front teeth were slightly crooked, it was a smile that melted the uncertainty around his heart. “I am Clara Swartz,” she replied.

  Her voice was soft, sweet music to his ears and his heart forgot its proper rhythm for a few defining seconds. “This is my father, James Hamm, but most of us call him father or Elder Hamm.”

  She inclined her head in respect to the older man, seemingly reluctant to pull her eyes away from his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you” she said.

  His father nodded and took her bag. “Let us go home then. His mother has cooked us into poverty in preparation for your arrival.”

  She laughed. “That was not necessary,” she said.

  “Tell that to my mother,” he lamented. She chuckled and he fell in love with the twinkle in her eyes. Not even the heat that day bothered him much for he felt like he had found a woman he could call home.

  * * *

  The entire ride back to the house Clara paid attention to the things she saw. She had only been born and raised seven hours away, but the beauty of the places she passed along the way wowed her. It almost made her forget the tears her mother had cried when she said she was leaving.

  “I will have to shun you Clara, please don’t go,” her mother had begged her, but she knew she had to even if it meant she would never see them again. At least she could find a better place to make some money to send back. Her sister would have enjoyed the trip. She would have been bursting with questions and a smile for everyone she met.

  Her heart cried yet again for them.

  “What of your family, Clara?” Elder Hamm asked her as if reading her mind.

  She was not sure if she should tell him the whole truth or just parts of it- enough of it. She settled on the whole truth not wanting to begin her time here with anything but complete honesty, for that was the Amish way.

  “They are the sole reason I sought a life outside my community and it breaks my heart to have left them behind.”

  John, her husband to be, should he accept her turned to her with concern. “What is happening in your community?”

  She sighed. “It is hard there. The ground is dry and what little it can grow is not made easy because of the labor that has to go into it. And my father died three winters ago. It is just me, my younger sister Sara, and my ailing mother. We get by from selling what little we can afford to bake and that often is not enough.”

  There was a moment of pensive silence before his father spoke. “I do not know what arrangements you have made with my son, but should you desire so, there is plenty of room here for your family. I must admit that things are not any easier here, but we are hopeful for this harvest. From there we will decide what is next to be done.”

  “Really?” she asked in excitement.

  “Yes,” John assured her, smiling away her fears. “Our lands are not easy to till either, but we are hopeful. We have only been settled here for three years now and thus far it has been quite the learning experience. The community is new and we are welcoming others.”

  Clara could not believe her ears. She understood that things here were not easy, but by the looks of the land they passed, it was far better than the barren land she had just traveled from. There was hope yet. She would write home about it as soon as possible. But for now, the buggy pulled up through the white picket fence bordering the huge property, and an eager older woman with frail shoulders stood waiting to greet her with a wide grin.

  “Clara, this is my mother, Jemma,” John said, but before he could make it a two way introduction the woman was pulling her in for a hug.

  “Come! Come! No need for such formalities, dinner is served!”

  And so it was. She was pulled into a merry feast of more than she’d had to eat in ages. Again she felt guilt knowing that tonight all her sister and mother would have to eat was dry oats and one of her pastries. She would try to get them here as soon as possible. She turned her attention back to his brother who was seated next to the wife she understood had been English. If this were her community, no English woman would have been allowed entry. Actually it was quite against the rules to even speak to one, but this was a new community and she liked the diversity.

  For hours they kept her there chatting about it all, and when she was finally allowed to turn in, john walked her to her bedroom.

  “I know you do not have to make a decision about me now,” he said to her. “We will spend a few months getting to know each other, and if I am less than you had expected then I will give my blessing while you make a life for yourself here. If I am what you see in a future husband, to love for an eternity, then I will be ready to take your hand in marriage.”

  She was surprised by his words and didn’t expect this much freedom in the choice. Staring into his dark brown eyes and his Amish beard, she was sure her heart chose him in that moment.

  “Thank you,” she whispered back to him with a kiss on the cheek. “I hope I can be everything you expected in a wife.”

  With that they said their good-nights and she stared at his back as he made his way to the other side of the house. She could love that man. The same one with the powerful stride and the smile that melted her fears away. She could love every inch of him and she said a prayer thanking the Lord for the wonderful family she would inherit, but even then her mother and sister weighed heavily on her mind.

  She sat by the desk in the small room furn
ished with the customary necessities, and turned the lantern up enough for her to pen a letter. She wrote to her mother about the prospect of coming to see them. She told her of the wonderful man John Hamm was and that he had been more help than anything else, and as she wrote of the hope to become his wife, a knock sounded on her door.

  “Yes,” she opened it surprised to see Jemma there.

  “Clara,” the woman began. “We heard you speak of missing your family. You should write them and tell them to make their way here. James will speak with the elders tomorrow and ensure they have permission to come. A girl should never have to be away from her family who has already suffered so much.”

  “But that decision is my mother’s and they will be shunned for leaving,” she said. It was her greatest worry for them.

  “Let them know that things are better here and there is a home waiting for them should they decide to come,” the woman was about to walk away, but stopped. “If things do not work out here for us with this harvest, we have other plans in place to move to Ohio where our sister community is flourishing.”

  She looked at the woman in shock. “But you will be shunned, too.”

  “No dear,” the woman sad touching her cheek to calm her, “we will simply be moving from here and into another Amish community. Life is about simplicity, but if one place does not offer you the comfort you need to enjoy a simple life, you must seek the ordnung elsewhere. Tell your mother to come. A better life awaits her.”

  It was a great deal to think of and so she wrote to her mother about all that was happening, discarding the first letter as she went. But as she wrote, whatever worries she had long disappeared. She had a good feeling about the life to come.

  Little did she know there was more test of her faith to come as well.

  * * *

  3

  Chapter THREE

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  “ I would never, ever

  forget about you … ”

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  It was a month later before anything changed and it was a month that came with more than its fair share of hardships. Clara’s family had arrived and the community had welcomed them albeit apprehensively. They took it in stride and her little sister explained that they would accept the aloofness with which they were greeted because they were the outsiders. They told of how they had sold everything to get enough money to travel and he felt so much guiltier for having allowed Clara to put them through that. They didn’t mind because they were together, but what made it so much harder for him was the fact that the worst that they had feared had actually come to pass.

  The harvest had been overrun by something akin to the biblical plague of locusts, and almost all the families had lost the crops they had toiled over. To make it worse, the Tucson sun showed no mercy, and as the rainy season was not due to start for another two months, life had gotten significantly harder. With two more mouths to feed and his brother’s baby on the way, it was to be a very trying time.

  Today, the Tucson heat was just too much for him. He had wiped his brows a million times yet it seemed it needed wiping a million times more. He tried to quell the rising frustration but couldn't, so he gave way to the anger that came with it.

  He would bet his last dollar, if the Amish did such things, that if the elders who made the decisions around here had to work in this heat they would likely be okay with electricity.

  “If we accepted the electricity from the town close by we could pump water to the fields and start afresh,” his father had told him months before. But being set in their ways this was not something the elders wanted in their community.

  Being born Amish was turning out to be a real pain for him. It wasn't so much so that he hated it, but he hated being poor and so close to suffering. He hated that the lands that had shown so much promise were now comparable to the place Clara had come from.

  Clara…

  What had he invited her to?

  How could he keep a wife in these conditions, or even worse, how could he expect her to marry him?

  He couldn't grow a single grain no matter how deep you planted it, and he hated even more the fact that less than three miles over, another new Amish community was reaping the benefits of having electricity to pump water throughout their fields.

  "Take a break," Clara said to him. Her soft voice was the only solace about these parts. It was solace and turmoil all at the same time. He looked up at her with gratitude and wondered if she thought him a lesser man for not being able to provide for her like he knew he should.

  "Why can't the elders just get that we will all starve to death if we don't get electricity? Why?"

  Clara shoved his water bottle at him. "Men with strong convictions are even more stubborn than a baby refusing his mother’s milk,” she pointed out. “Now drink your water before you overheat like a horse that has been run for too long.”

  He surrendered his frustration to take a drink of the ice cold water she had toted across the vast expanse of farm space to get to him. Okay, well maybe it wasn't quite the pilgrimage he was making it out to be, but the sun was unrepentant and she had to walk a good ways to get to him. He had not even realized the time or he would have gotten up and met her half way.

  “Drink!” she ordered him, and her pout at his complaining was cute enough to ease a bit of the anger form his soul.

  "I cannot stay here much longer," he lamented yet again. “I refuse to.”

  It was his new favorite chorus every day since the harvest had failed, but today he was more certain of it than all the other days. Around here nothing grew and his family was not doing so well. Even his mother who had once been the heart and energy of the extended family had taken ill, and his father was losing weight faster than he could eat to keep it on. This was not the life he wanted for Clara and her baby sister. It could not be the life she had brought them to.

  "My mother said we would be leaving too," Clara said finally confessing. Unlike him she was not attached to the Amish lands they had moved to and so the decision to leave came easier for them.

  “Would you leave me behind, Clara?” he asked as the gravity of what she was saying registered.

  “She placed her grey blanket across her lap and sat beside him. “John, I know we have not spoken much about the arrangement that brought me here because the harvest was far more important. I know the burden your family faces and I want you to know that it would never be my first choice to leave after you have treated us so well, but staying while nothing changes puts a greater burden on you and I do not want you to resent me for it.”

  He looked at her in shock. “I could never resent you!” And that was the truth.

  For a month and then some he had watched her take all the hardships in stride, never once complaining or breaking beneath the pressure as his brother’s English wife had. Clara had instead found all she could do to help, even encouraging her mother to take to baking again to be sold so more money came into the household. Money they shared evenly. This was a woman he had come to value and he would not let her go so easily, but he was not yet in any position to marry her.

  He had to get them to some place better. For John the only thing around here he could get attached to, was the tumbleweed now blowing by like nobody's business.

  "If you go I am coming with you," he said defiantly.

  "What about your family? You will all be shunned," she reminded him. But what she didn’t know was that since he had no interest in coming back to the place once he had left, he didn't quite really mind being shunned.

  “What are you thinking?” Clara asked him as they sat in the shade of the plow while the tired field horse drank from the trough and ate the hay provided.

  “I am thinking that I would like to visit the community in Bunker Hill, Ohio, and maybe even move there.”

  “Oh, I have heard of that one, but do you think it will be better there?”
>
  John didn’t know anything for sure, but the one thing he did know was that anywhere was better than these tiresome and futile lands they were trying to plow every day. It was hard and seemed pointless.

  “I read that they have electricity there and it is easier,” he repeated what he had heard. Clara’s ears perked up and he knew that she too would want to go somewhere that promised something better. It was one of the reasons he had liked her so much, she had a zest and a passion for life that many others did not have and he loved that about her.

  “Your mother will be too sick to travel, and what if they don’t accept us there? What if they turn us away and then we are shunned here? Where will we live?” Clara’s fear was a cold glass of water reminding him of the reality of the lives they lived.

  He turned his head to the east, where the sun rose unapologetically every morning and all he saw was dry land and mountains of stone. Hidden in the edge to the foot of the mountains was one of the elder’s houses and the school house the younger children went to every day. When they had just moved here, there was a cave in the mountain further up, and the opening had been like a small waterfall. For the first two years that had been their primary source of water and he remembered feeling awed by God and amazed by the mere fact that no matter how dry their summers were, that mountain spring had never failed them once.

  Then a year ago it had dried up and the rains had come less and less frequently. It was if a great curse had suddenly fallen over the lands.

  “A river used to run from those caves,” he pointed out to Clara. She shaded her eyes and looked to the dry and thirsty hills to the east of them.

  She nodded. “Your father told me,” she said.