Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  Once the land was purchased, Clint and several other men–including Virginia’s husband, Archie, and Eliza’s husband, Sheriff Bradford–along with Hank, Nicky, and Sam worked together to build the new ladies’ dress boutique. It was roughly the same size as Clint’s general store, and he thought that was a masterful decision because he knew that Dorothy and her friends would be able to fill the place with so many great dresses and other types of clothing. The men began to take an interest in the place as well, especially when Nicky arrived in an outfit that was made by hand by his mother, Virginia. “They can make pants and shirts, too!” he announced to them, acting as a walking advertisement.

  Dorothy and her friends were overjoyed when at last they were able to come into their new store. Even though the store was Dorothy’s vision and named for her, she meant for it to be for all of them. They would manufacture the clothing themselves for fun in their sewing circle, and then Dorothy would sell the clothing in the store. All of the profits would be evenly split amongst them, for things such as more fabric and thread.

  Hank and Sam came to her shortly after her store’s grand opening. They looked around the place, in awe that their stepmother had the smarts to create such a much-needed place. They asked to purchase some of the children’s clothing that was designed and made by Virginia, and then they said something to Dorothy which delighted her beyond measure.

  “Would you like us to help you in your shop?” Sam offered.

  “We think that this is a very nice place, and a very helpful place,” Hank said.

  Dorothy smiled at them. She knew that, although they were still so young, they were good workers who knew how to run a business and keep a shop functioning well. She knew, too, that she was not going to be able to manage everything herself—especially because she was still spending time at the orphanage, and was helping Clint in the general store, as well.

  “Yes,” Dorothy told her two sons, looking from one to the other and smiling. “I would be very grateful if you would help me. But always make sure that it is with your father’s approval that you do so.”

  And so it was that Dorothy began working as the manager of her own store in Missoula Mills, with her stepsons as her assistant store clerks. Occasionally, Nicky stopped in as well and helped out. She had never felt so fulfilled in her entire life, and she had Clint to thank. He had been so supportive of her pursuits, and she took great pride in her accomplishments, feeling sublimely happy that she had been able to achieve something of her own.

  She was happy as well when she went back to the chapel and saw Eliza marry her beloved sheriff. Eliza had been the first of Dorothy’s friends to move out West, and she felt as though everything had come almost full circle now that Eliza was happily wed at last.

  One day, when she was in the dress store, Dorothy overheard Sam and Hank talking in soft tones to Nicky. At first, she thought they were merely explaining how to work in the store, but then she realized that they were discussing her. She blushed a bit, feeling guilty for listening until she heard exactly what sorts of things they were saying to him.

  “Thank you so much for making us appreciate Miss Dorothy… our mother,” they were saying to Nicky. “We did not know how blessed we were until you made us see. We appreciate her very much.”

  Nicky smiled at them and nodded solemnly. “I knew that you would come to realize that,” he said. “I am truly glad that you have each other.”

  The twins smiled at their friend and clapped him on the back. “And we are truly glad to have you as our friend.”

  Dorothy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The little Indian boy was such a blessing to all of them. She did not believe anyone would be able to thank him enough, but she sure meant to keep thanking him all the same.

  THE END

  Mail Order Bride: Rosanna's Story

  Story Description

  Philadelphia - September, 1893

  Orphaned when her parents perished during the smallpox epidemic, young Rosanna Ellington is left with a little brother to care for. As a smallpox survivor, Rosanna finds it difficult to live an ordinary life, her appearance now tarnished by scars—cruel reminders of the devastating disease.

  When a family friend suggests for her to respond to an ad seeking a God-fearing mail order bride, Rosanna finally feels a glimmer of hope: the Cheyenne man states that “appearance and status of wealth are not important.”

  Without revealing her condition, Rosanna hopes that her future husband will be willing to marry her, but when she arrives, she is stunned to learn that Alexander Malone did not place the ad after all: his sister had been the person secretly corresponding with her all along.

  When they meet, will Alexander see past Rosanna’s flaws and find her inner beauty?

  “No, please don’t go and leave me all alone. Please.”

  Rosanna Ellington’s vivid dream took her back to a starless night when dark clouds seethed and boiled, threatening to flood the land with relentless rain.

  A cold north wind howled, blasting the trees with its wintry breath, and lightning flashed like iron scythes from an endless void.

  A column of frigid air burrowed through the slits of the wooden hut with its sparse furnishings, and the temperature plummeted by degrees. The bitter cold sliced through her slender body and stabbed through the barrier of thin clothing.

  In an attempt to leech a dash of warmth from the grime-studded lantern, Rosanna tried to light the limp wick, but the shards of light shattered into icy blizzard drops and fell in singsong unison.

  In the flickering shadows, her parents cried out, their emaciated bodies covered in splotches of red pocks. They begged her to run away and take David along, and she wanted to leave, but she couldn’t abandon them.

  In a darkened corner, her brother watched the scene with terrified, red-rimmed eyes. When he scrambled to get on the bed, Rosanna cried out, “No, David, come away. You’re going to get sick!”

  He turned to her with a contorted face the color of bleached bones, and crouched down next to his mother. He begged her to get up, but she couldn’t raise a hand, much less her frail body.

  Out of her mind with fear, Rosanna rushed forward to save him. A cloud of steam enveloped her body, bonding her feet to the ground. When the murky haze faded, crimson welts spread like brush fire over her ivory skin and raised blisters—one after the other—embedded in her flesh. Dear God, please no—

  Rosanna jerked from sleep, bathed in sweat, her heart pounding like a herd of galloping horses. She struggled to get her bearings and calm harsh breaths, but it took a moment to remember where she was. With dark thoughts swirling in her mind, she tore off the linen sheet and climbed out of the bed, careful not to wake David from sleep. Her bare feet made no sound as she eased from the room and rushed to the kitchen for a drink of water.

  Why couldn’t she banish the terrifying memories that tormented her soul?

  ****

  “Rosanna, are you all right, my child?”

  Gwendolyn Mason’s solicitous voice rose in concern as she followed hot on Rosanna’s heels. She swept into the room with a cream lace bonnet and matching nightdress rustling with each step.

  A furrowed brow and deep grooves lined her face under coarse silver hair. At the sight of Rosanna’s pale face, she held out her generous arms with a loving smile.

  Rosanna burrowed into the ample bosom of her mother’s best friend, and let the salty tears overflow. All her sorrows poured out in an endless stream as her body was racked with bitter tears.

  When the onslaught diminished to weak trickles, Gwendolyn pushed her into a creaking chair and hurried to stoke the fire in the iron stove. “Talk to me, my child. Is it the nightmare again?”

  Rosanna hesitated to share her latest burden as Gwendolyn hunted for a kettle among the rows of Blue Willow teacups and matching plates, but the dream had left a sour taste in her mouth. “I was thinking about my parents today, and it hit me a bit harder than before. I wish I could decide what to do…
should I go back to Indiana, or stay here? I just don’t know.”

  At Gwendolyn’s understanding look, Rosanna’s grief-stricken thoughts wallowed in memories.

  The journey from Indiana to Pennsylvania had taken three weeks through muddy roads, obstructed rivers, and vast, rugged hills. The area had been quarantined due to the outbreak in Muncie, but a neighbor had taken it upon himself to get her and David out of danger.

  They’d stuck primarily off roads and to the shadows due to Rosanna’s recovering condition, which led to hardships along the way, but she felt grateful for the help and did not complain. David’s needs and the urge to escape the hopelessness at her parents’ death spurred her onward and kept her mind steady to the mission at hand.

  “I know you miss them, but I am glad you got to me. I was worried sick when I heard about the outbreak. They say ten people have died already, but you don’t know how many more will die.”

  Rosanna felt reassured by Gwendolyn. Her parents had ordered her to run, and run she did. But she wondered if the pain of their loss would ever fade away.

  “Just rest for a moment, my dear, while I make you a hot cup of tea. It will help you feel much better.”

  Rosanna murmured a gentle ‘thank you,’ immensely grateful for Gwendolyn’s kindness and faith.

  In her mind, Gwendolyn’s tight-knit home created the haven she needed. Although the kitchen at the back of the house resembled a dugout shed—built more for efficiency than anything else—and the low ceiling could be stifling, the vestibule and parlor held charming accents in tones of blues and whites.

  The shared bedroom with a large bed had a heavy curtain down the middle to maintain some degree of privacy, and a freestanding wardrobe left space for little else.

  What Rosanna loved most was the front porch, a few steps from the main street, where the row house on Brandywine Street blended with small retail establishments and larger stores.

  The constant hustle and bustle of daily life offered a window to the outside world, and a place for David to mingle and play with the neighborhood children. Sadly, it offered scant anything else, and that troubled Rosanna greatly. She had to do something other than wait for good fortune to rear its gracious head.

  “I was thinking I could join you and find work at one of the homes on Green Street? Would you put in a good word for me there? Do you think they would accept me looking like this?”

  Rosanna knew the houses on Green Street housed the upper echelons of society, with its elegant brownstone walls, elaborate towers, and bay windows, but she hoped someone would take her in, even if she worked in the basement.

  Gwendolyn poured the hot water into the teapot and allowed it to sit for a few minutes to warm the pot. She met Rosanna’s anxious gaze with a degree of sadness reflected in her own. “My dear, I do not wish to upset you further, but it will be hard to find a job in your condition.”

  In your condition. Rosanna raised her pale hands to her high-boned cheeks and fingered her skin with a butterfly touch. Under her calloused palms, pitted scars marked a dotted trail across her face like a map to hidden treasure. Those scars would keep any potential work always beyond her reach.

  When a bout of tears threatened again, she wiped them away. What was the use of bawling? It wouldn’t change anything. If only the scars would fade, then things might be different. She knew her hair was nice enough, with generous deep cinnamon curls falling over slender shoulders down to her willowy waist. And her bright eyes could be a blend of summer blue or meadow green, depending on her mood. But removing the unseemly blemishes on her face was another story.

  “What am I going to do?” The whispered plea echoed with all the distress of her heart, pleading for a solution to her predicament.

  Gwendolyn placed the tea into the pot and poured boiling water over the leaves. Soon, the fragrant aroma filled the air with a gentle blend of herbs and spices. The scent coupled with the slow flame burning in the iron stove made for a cozy atmosphere.

  “There is not much that can be done, but please don’t lose hope. There is a God in heaven and he will answer our prayers—that much I know. Now please, drink some tea and go back to bed. I’ll think of some way to help you—I promise.”

  ****

  Two weeks later, Gwendolyn fulfilled her promise, much to Rosanna’s surprise. At the end of the day, they gathered in the parlor under the ambient glow of a cheerful fire, and the older woman shared the results of her findings. “I did what I promised I never would do. I brought one of those Philadelphia ledger papers with the ads in them, and guess what I found?”

  At Rosanna’s blank but expectant look, she spread the sheet on the low-lying table and pointed to the words in bold. Then she read each word in a slow, deliberate tone.

  “Cheyenne, Wyoming. A respectable gentleman, thirty-five, bachelor of fine upstanding values, is in need of a good God-fearing woman with a view to matrimony. This woman must be kind, honest, loving, and between the age of twenty and thirty. Appearance and status of wealth are not important, as the bachelor is able to amply provide for the needs of his wife. Please respond to Alexander Malone at Union Pacific Railroad Services.”

  Rosanna caught her breath at the request for a God-fearing bride. She had heard of many women leaving the East to live in the West as the wife of a miner, rancher, or frontiersman, but never thought to attempt such a feat herself, much less in her state.

  She also knew the sad tales of women who traveled from the East to the West in search of a better future, only to find disreputable suitors and a harsh and bitter life.

  Her wide eyes questioned the logic of such a decision. “You think this is the answer? To become a mail-order bride?”

  The very idea filled Rosanna with anxious concern, and she didn’t hesitate to share her deepest fears. “He will hate the sight of me.”

  Gwendolyn straightened up with a resolute look. She pointed to the newspaper again and repeated, “It says ‘appearance and status of wealth are not important.’ This means he will not care what you look like or what you have. Oh, Rosanna, this is what I have wanted for you: to have a chance at a new life, both for you and for your brother.”

  At the mention of David, her eyes darted around with a worried look. She noted the unusual silence of the house. “Where is he?”

  Rosanna swallowed, a stab of pain in the nether regions of her heart. It seemed she was not the only one affected and plagued by bitter thoughts. “He cried himself to sleep just before you came,” she lamented. “He’s hurting terribly and I don’t know how to heal him.”

  Gwendolyn’s frown faded and she reached over to grasp Rosanna’s hands in her own. She looked directly into her eyes and said with determination, “God will heal him, but you must answer his call. Respond to the ad and choose a new life and a new hope.”

  The words swam before Rosanna’s eyes, dancing like horses to a merry tune. Her thoughts clung to all the reasons it would not work, but her heart beat to a strange rhythm. Maybe, just maybe, it might be the life she sought for herself and her brother. Did she dare take the chance and throw her fears to the wind?

  The offer seemed genuine enough, but what if Alexander Malone regretted his ad after meeting her? And when he saw her face—what then?

  Gwendolyn helped Rosanna make the choice with her next words. “I don’t have much in the way of savings, Rosanna, but I will ask my friends to help you with some clothing and a travel bag. On my part, I will give you my savings for one purpose: you will use it to buy two return tickets if anything goes wrong. Remember, my door will always be open to you and David. All you have to do is come home.”

  Rosanna expelled a deep sigh, her heart settling to its familiar beat at Gwendolyn’s generous offer. All you have to do is come home. Knowing she could return if something went wrong eased her mind to a great degree and calmed some of her fears. “All right, I will try and see how it goes. Can you help me respond to the ad, please?”

  Gwendolyn clapped her hands in complacent
delight and rushed to her feet with a cheerful cry. “This calls for a celebration. Stay there while I fetch some sweet honey cakes and hot chocolate milk.”

  At Gwendolyn’s hasty departure, Rosanna strolled over to the square glass window with the edges covered in dirt and grime. Beyond the dust-filled shutters, soft alabaster clouds swept across the darkening cerulean expanse.

  Above the slopes and peaks of the row-house rooftops, the world looked neat and clean. A flock of birds dotted the sky, rising on the warm currents of air with soaring wings. She envied the flock to some extent; the feeling of flying with nothing but the wind under your wings must be quite exhilarating.

  She turned to the fading sun as it dipped its final farewell, painting broad, colorful strokes of fiery red, radiant salmon, bittersweet apricot, and dandelion swirls. Her gaze clung to the rays melting into the shadows, thoughts brimming with hopes of the future.

  Dear God, please hear my prayers and make my dreams come true.

  ****

  Cheyenne, Wyoming

  It took two months of preparation and letter exchanges to get to Cheyenne, a land of sprawling mountain ranges, vast plains, and infinite grasslands.

  Rosanna heaved a soft sigh when the Union Pacific train halted to a stop under mostly clear skies and darkening clouds on the horizon. In a rush to see her new home, she scrambled to escape the belching metal box with a wide-eyed David dressed in his Sunday finest.

  When she alighted in a yellow linen trimmed dress, decorated with ivory lace and blue bows, a sudden rush of frigid air tore the breath from her body and she staggered backward in surprise.

  The temperature plummeted around her and she shivered despite the warm cloak enveloping her body and the mittens covering her frail hands. Grateful for the sky-blue bonnet with bright yellow ribbons and a secure veil around her face like shimmering gauze, she followed the dashing crowds.