by Natalie Dean
“It was a battle that we won, but it was a hard-fought battle,” Mr. James said. “Your father took a bullet to the arm that shattered the bone. He . . . was taken to the hospital tent. When I learned that he’d been wounded, I went to the tent. He spoke of you. He wants . . . he wanted you to better yourself.”
“You’ll always have a place here, Molly,” Mr. Turner spoke up. “You’re part of the household.”
“Yes,” Mr. James agreed. “But your father received a bounty for enlisting. He entrusted that money to me. I’m leaving it with my father. It’ll be kept in the bank for you, where it will accrue interest. That means that the bank will pay you for keeping your money there.”
Mr. James grinned. “So your money earns money just by sitting in the bank. There will be a little more than the $500 that he received. He was very specific. It’s for your future. Someday, he said, you’ll have need of it and when you do, Molly O’Hara, it’s there for you. Father is guardian of the money, but it’s yours.”
“Do you understand, Molly?”
Molly was dimly aware that this was a conversation that Mr. Turner and Mr. James should have been having with her mother. But they were having it with her. It didn’t make much sense.
“I’m trying to,” she answered.
Mr. James smiled. “It’s not easy to understand at your age.”
“None of this is easy to understand. I fear that nothing ever will be. Molly, you are very young to have so much responsibility, but it may take awhile before your mother is able to be as she was. She has had a great shock.”
“Mr. James, now that West Virginia is its own state and not part of Virginia, will Mr. Will still have to wear a gray uniform?”
Mr. Turner’s shoulders sagged. She saw his lower lip tremble and realized that her question had troubled him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Turner. I don’t understand.”
Mr. Turner smiled faintly. “As I said, child, I doubt that anything will be easy to understand for a long time. My son has chosen to wear gray, the uniform of the Confederacy. He no longer regards himself as a citizen of the United States, but he is still my son, and I hope that you will keep him in your prayers along with Mr. James.”
Molly wondered how Mr. Turner knew that she prayed nightly for Mr. James. She prayed in secret, and not even Mother knew.
“God will surely hear the prayers you send Him, Molly O’Hara,” Mr. James said. “With that red hair, God can’t help but see you. You’ll always be able to get God’s attention.”
If you’d like to read more of this wonderful mail order bride romance, you can find it here: A Soldier’s Love
Sneak Peek: Lottie
Book Description
LOTTIE
Brides of Bannack Book 1
A Western Romance Short Story
Lottie Cahill is a headstrong, fiery redheaded orphan on the run from her past. Headed out west to Montana, she’s ready to start her new life as a mail order bride. Then things take a turn for the worst. Seems like bad luck follows her from one place to the next.
Doc McLennon isn't looking for love, but when Lottie comes to town, Doc keeps finding himself right in her path. The more he's around her, the more he realizes what he's been missing.
Together, Lottie and the good doc make a discovery that could leave her stranded. Will they be able to solve this mystery? Or will someone destroy them before they get a chance? And will Lottie finally get the family she's longed for all her life?
Chapter 1
Lottie Cahill was sitting in a luxurious rail car. The only other people in the car were there to serve her. The velvet curtains and pelmets that lined the windows and the seats made her feel like a queen. She felt like she was sinking into her seat, it was so comfortable as it enveloped her. A glass of champagne and some canapes sat on the table in front of her. The rocking of the train hardly perceptible. "This is the life," Lottie said to herself. She could leave all the sadness and filthiness of the city behind.
The journey was a little rockier than she expected it to be. She could feel her body sway from side to side. Something was jarring at her, but she wanted to push it to the back of her mind. No, she was very comfortable here, as the train whisked her towards her fiancé. She jolted and rocked out of her reverie, Lottie opened her eyes. It had been a dream. She wanted to cry as she looked around the box car that housed her. There were at least two other families in the space with her. The cheapest rail option was for families banded together. But, it lacked any seats and smelled of the animals who had previously occupied it. Cattle would fill it on its return journey to the city.
"Why couldn't I have slept longer?" Lottie sighed. She watched the children playing. One of the children came running towards her, "Miss, mama wants to know if yer hungry?" Lottie nodded with tears flowing down her cheeks and cried. She hadn't eaten in two days.
Hungry, tired and sweating was not how she had planned her trip. The little girl returned with some lard and bread. Lottie nodded to the mother who had sent it her way. She said a silent prayer to thank God for the food she was about to eat. The side door of the box car was open, and the air that came through was warm.
The landscape had changed since she had fallen asleep. She took her mind back to a few days ago when she thought the world was her oyster as she set off on the start of her new life. Lottie's fiancé, Frank Ward, had promised her the best that money could buy. "Lottie, are you sure you want to leave the city?" Mary Jones asked her. "Where else can I go, Mary? He's ruined my reputation, and I'll never get work as a nurse again. Not in the city. Anyway, I'm tired of not having anything of my own. Don't cry. I wouldn't change a thing from that night. I had to save you, Mary." Mary collapsed into tears. Lottie was right. Only for her intervention, her beau would have strangled the life out of her. She owed her life to Lottie.
But Lottie had paid a terrible price, and now she was heading to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you'll join me at some stage, Mary. I thank you for giving me the idea of being a mail order bride. It's working out for the best. My fiancé has a farm, and for once I'll be working towards something of my own that no one will ever take away from me. He says there's a ball in Fort Benton in two months time and we're going. Imagine it, Mary. Me, at a ball. This is my new life now."
Mary and Lottie were walking to the train station. Lottie was getting a train which would lead her from Chicago to Butte in Montana. From there a stage coach would take her to a town called Bannack. Her fiancé, Frank Ward, wired her fare to the Western Union office. Only the best for her, he had written in his letters which she kept in her girdle close to her heart.
Mary stood back as Lottie went to the ticket office. She watched as Lottie seemed to remonstrate with the ticket seller. She could tell from Lottie's face that something was wrong. "Mary, you won't believe it. The incompetence of some people." Lottie was shaking with annoyance.
"What is it?" Mary asked.
"They said Mr. Ward only wired enough money to cover my fare in a boxcar. That cannot be. He promised me a comfortable passage. I do have a little bit of money, but I wanted that for when I get to my new home. Could they have made a mistake?"
"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. I know it's much cheaper to go in the box car. You'll be with families, but at least you'll be on your way. Is this the one?" Lottie and Mary stood beside one of the boxcars. Some families were already ensconced, and children were running around. Lottie and Mary said their goodbyes.
"Let me help you, Miss," the man offered his arm and Lottie was yanked up into the boxcar. "Find yerself a corner, Miss."
Was it a mistake? Or was Frank someone who pretended to have more than he really had? Lottie didn't have much expectation from life. She looked around her. While disappointed that Frank had made promises he didn't fulfill, she was used to making do.
Her life had started in tragedy with her mother dying in childbirth. She grew up in a Catholic orphanage and knew nothing of her family. Other than her being Irish with her fier
y red hair and green eyes. Lottie was feisty and couldn't abide the weak being taken advantage of. She had a tendency to step in if she felt someone was being bullied. Her skills in the infirmary and her gentleness, helped Lottie catch the eye of one of the benefactors.
He paid for her nursing education on the condition that she nurse him. It was a taxing job. More than anything else, Mr. Peabody was lonely. Lottie knew his failing health was more to do with a broken heart and grief than any physical cause. He missed his wife who had passed on. While he was a good man, his son, Daniel, was very different. It was because of him that Lottie was leaving the city.
One night as Lottie was taking some medicine to Mr. Peabody, she heard his son Daniel come home. He had a lady friend who was giggling. Later in the night, Lottie heard the woman scream, and she ran to her aid. Lottie picked up the fire poker and smacked Daniel Peabody with it. Her shock heightened when she discovered the woman was Mary Jones, a girl from her orphanage. The nuns had always told Mary she'd get into trouble with men. Mary had cuts and bruises. As Lottie lead Mary away, Daniel was nursing his shoulder and screamed at Lottie for interfering.
Lottie never paid him much heed before and wasn't going to start now. As she took Mary to her room to tend to her wounds, Lottie presumed that would be the end of it. She was certain Daniel Peabody wouldn't want his father to know about his behavior. Lottie was safe while Mr. Peabody was alive.
Unfortunately, two days later, her benefactor was dead. Now she was afraid. Daniel called her into the drawing room. It was then that she started asking questions. "But have the police investigated his death? I do not think his death was natural."
"Then the blame will fall on you, Miss Cahill. You don't want an investigation into my father's death, I can assure you of that." His cold eyes and tone sent shivers down Lottie's spine. Could he have killed his father?
"You are to leave this house immediately…" Daniel continued.
"But certainly you can give me time to find a new…" Lottie had interrupted Daniel, and now he interrupted her by putting his hand up.
"There will be no other position in this city for you. I will discretely spread my doubts about father's death. You oversaw his medicines. Don't even think about applying to any of the hospitals either. Furthermore, you will not receive any references from me. That will teach you…Lottie…not to interfere with another person's business."
Unfortunately, Lottie didn't have much in the way of friends, so she found herself wandering the streets. Her few belongings were in the little case she held in her hand. Mary was the only person Lottie could call upon for help. So, that’s what she did. It was at this time that Mary told her about the new lives people could have out West. It was then decided, Lottie would be a mail order bride. And it had come to be. Lottie had found a farmer in need of a wife. Lottie was sure her nursing skills would come in handy out West. Every day people re-invented themselves, and now it was her turn. Only this re-invention had not started very well.
If you’d like to read more of this mail order bride mystery romance, you can find it here: Lottie: Brides of Bannack Book 1
BONUS BOOKS
By Grace Weston
BESS: BRIDES ON THE RUN BOOK 1
BOOK DESCRIPTION
BESS
Brides on the Run Book 1
A Western Romance Short Story
What would you do if your life was in danger and your only chance for survival was to marry someone you never met?
Bess Brown is on the run. She has recently become a widow but wasn’t given time to grieve. After learning that her husband was part of a New York City gang, she also learns that he owed the gang leader a lot of money - and she suspects that is why he was murdered.
When she receives a threatening message from the gang, she knows that the gang leader will stop at nothing until he gets his money, so she becomes a mail order bride and moves out west.
Though her new husband is kind, she has a hard time trusting anyone after her first husband had spent so many years lying to her. But, as he continues to prove his honesty to her, she can’t help but fall in love. Fearing what he would do if he found out her dark past, she tells him nothing – except that she was an orphan.
But when her past comes back to haunt her, Bess realizes she can no longer run.
Will she have the courage to face the man who killed her husband? And can her new husband show her how to trust in love again?
Stormy Nights
CRASH!
Thunder clapped loudly outside, rattling the windows,and shaking the house down to its very frame. Bess Brown sat at the table in her little kitchen, her hands wrapped around a mug full of hot tea. Torrential rain fell from the sky, filling the house with the sound of millions of little taps, as though tiny hands were knocking on the windows and the roof, asking to be let in.
The air was cold despite it being late spring, so Bess had a fire burning in the little fireplace in the kitchen. The sound of the crackling wood combined with the hiss of the steam when droplets found their way down the chimney and into the fireplace only added to the agitation Bess felt. The clock which stood against the opposite wall chimed, and as Bess counted off each note, she realized it was midnight.
But Jacob still was not home.
She had last seen her husband earlier that afternoon. That morning he had acted incredibly nervous and not at all like himself at breakfast, and when she had asked him what was wrong, he had insisted that he was fine and merely anticipating the day that lay ahead. It was strange for him to even use such language when he spoke to her, which only added to her curiosity.
But, Bess had learned not to ask too many questions. When she had met Jacob three years before, for her it had been love at first sight. Though at the time she was merely seventeen years old and he was already in his twenties, she knew that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Though she was living in an orphanage, Bess had convinced Mrs. Grace, the head of the institution, to allow her to become a waitress at the little bed and breakfast across the street. It was a quaint place, perfect for those who were merely passing through, and more often than not Jacob found his way onto the guest list.
As a young girl growing up in a New York City orphanage, Bess never thought she would catch the eye of someone like Jacob, but after a year of persistently trying, he finally took notice of her. When he did, Bess felt on top of the world. She continued to work at the little bed and breakfast for another year, but as soon as she had turned eighteen, he proposed and the two of them were married.
Though she had been smitten with Jacob Brown since the moment she had first met him, she noticed that he never liked to share much information with her – or with anyone for that matter. He told her he was a traveling businessman, and that he could never stay in one city for too long, lest his products become commonplace and no one wants them any longer.
And what were these products he was selling? Bess didn’t know because he wouldn’t tell her.
It wasn’t long into their relationship before she realized many of the things she wanted to know about her husband he would laugh off and tell her not to worry about it. He insisted that it was his job to take care of her in any way that was necessary, and he promised her that she would never want for anything. In the past year of their marriage, he had remained true to his word.
As the rain continued to patter against the window pane, Bess thought about how many nights she had spent doing exactly what she was doing right now. Sitting in a cold kitchen with a cup of hot tea, not knowing where her husband was or if he would even come home that night. There were times he would be gone for days, and there were times he would return late at night, bruised and beaten, insisting he had been jumped by robbers in a dark ally.
Yet even when he came home with cuts on his knuckles and black rings around his eyes, Bess had learned to only ask if there was anything she could do to help him. She would fill a bowl with warm water, and she would soak his b
lack eyes and tend to his wounds, all the while listening to how something went wrong in a business transaction he was trying to achieve, and how the client had beaten him for it.
Bess took her finger and swirled it around the top of her mug a few times, looking down into the dark liquid at the reflection of herself. Though she could only see herself dimly, she could see plain as day how tired she looked. The young woman staring back at her was not the carefree wife she thought she was going to be.
No, this was the face of a woman who had endured months of hardship in a short period of time, and the worry she felt was already beginning to carve wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Bess sighed as she picked up the cup with both of her hands and lifted the rim to her lips. The hot liquid hit the back of her throat and filled her with a warmth from the inside out, causing her to relax a little.
The flickering street lamp looked very small outside in the rain, but it managed to dimly light the ground below it. Bess rose to her feet when she saw three men gather beneath the pole and begin speaking with one another. They were all dressed in top hats and caped dusters, and Bess could see the water droplets gathering and spilling over each of their brims.
Her heart leapt to her throat when they pointed to her house and began making their way toward the gate. She hated it when people came to the house when Jacob wasn’t there, especially when it was at night. Rushing into the living room, Bess put her hand over her chest to quiet her pounding heart, but it only worked for a moment.
When a fist began pounding heavily at the door, she knew the men knew she was in there – and awake. Bess hesitated for a moment, wishing with all her might that Jacob would come home at that moment and tell those men to go away, but as she stood in the darkness, she once again heard the pounding of a heavy fist on the door. With her face as white as a sheet, Bess picked up the candelabra that sat on the desk and with trembling fingers she lit each of the candlesticks, then she made her way back through the small kitchen and down the narrow stairway leading to the door.