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

by Charity Phillips

  The wave of bodies led her across uneven tracks set in neat rows. Jagged rocks encrusted with soft mud crunched under her feet in a dash to escape the wintry wind. Inside the Union Pacific depot, amidst the throngs of passengers, Rosanna embraced the warm air roaring from the giant fireplace.

  She admired the massive structure built of quarried sandstone with its curved arches and broad stone columns. In her mind, it stood like a mighty sentry guarding the vast plains and keeping troublemakers at bay. She wondered how they got the barrel towers to reach toward the sky like the tops of the mighty mountains.

  “Rosie, are we going to live in a nice home?”

  David’s pet name for her and his cautious entreaty filled Rosanna’s mind with relief. He had been so quiet during the journey she had been worried sick, but now she saw his pale face, under a mop of chocolate tousled hair, gleamed in the ambient light. “I hope so, darling, but I don’t really know. Mr. Malone wrote back saying we were to come and he would take care of everything, so I wish for the best.”

  He accepted her explanation and gaped at the surroundings with bright summer-blue eyes. Then he rubbed his tummy with an expectant look. “I’m hungry, Rosie. Can I eat now?”

  Rosanna’s stomach growled in response, much to her chagrin, and she thought of the few coins in her purse. They had used most of her money on the weeks-long journey, and she didn’t have much more to spare, but maybe a small pastry and something warm to drink would do. “I will see if we can have something before we get to Mr. Malone’s house. Let’s get some help.”

  Rosanna’s confidence faltered when David looked away, his attention caught by a family with a child near his age. They seemed so happy, with wide smiles and bright faces, as they rushed to gather their belongings. Rosanna hoped everything would turn out just as fine for her and David.

  “Come, David. I see a window with a sign that says ‘information.’ Maybe they can help.”

  When they got to the window, the clerk looked up with a bright smile on his face. His eyes tried to penetrate the barrier of her veil, but it cloaked the appearance of her face well enough to keep her secret intact. “Sir, I am here to meet Mr. Alexander Malone. Do you know where I can find him?”

  The clerk’s eyes widened at her request, and he peered over his steel-rimmed spectacles at both her and David. Then he squared his shoulders and adjusted his bow tie with diffidence, much to Rosanna’s surprise. “Are you sure about his name, young lady?”

  Rosanna’s gaze faltered and she glanced at David. She wondered if he could see the scars through the gauze that covered her face from the world. When the clerk leaned closer, she stepped back and caught her breath. Why was he looking at her like that? Could he really see the hideous scars marking her face?

  “Rosanna, is that you?”

  The sweet, cultured voice rang out with a cheerful call, and the clerk followed the sound to a vision in layers of silk and satin. When he saw who it was, a crimson trail burned across his upper cheeks and he made himself scarce. “Best wishes, miss.”

  Rosanna gaped at the apparition before her and wondered what she had been thinking of when she answered the ad. The lady swept forward in royal-blue satin gown trimmed in cream lace. Her underskirt boasted layers of lace flounces trimmed in roses, and the artful upsweep of her sun-kissed hair complemented high cheeks and slanted hazel eyes.

  When she embraced Rosanna, the delicate scent of lavender and a sweet hint of orange clung to her skin. She had never smelled anything quite like it.

  “I am so happy to see you! I recognized David right away. You described him quite well in your letter, but you did not describe yourself. Why is your face covered? Does the cold weather affect you that much?”

  Rosanna held her breath. She did not want to reveal her secret to anyone but Alexander, and maybe this woman knew him well. “I will remove it when I meet my future husband. Are you his friend?”

  The woman’s tinkling laughter caused others around them to smile. The sound filled Rosanna with a bout of joy, and her lips tilted in response. It seemed like the laughter of someone without a care or concern in the world. It was a heady feeling.

  “Goodness, no. I am his sister, Agatha Malone. We live with our mother, but you will meet them both in just a moment. Wait until you get to the house; I have a nice, intimate dinner prepared for us all. I know they will be overjoyed to meet you.”

  David, who had been largely silent, walked over to Agatha and raised his arms with his head tilted to one side. When she looked at him in confusion, Rosanna whispered, for her ears alone, “He wants you to hold him. I think he believes you might be a princess from one of his storybooks.”

  Agatha rose to the occasion, much to Rosanna’s eternal gratitude. She swung David’s gaunt frame into her arms with strength belying her delicate appearance, and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Oh, precious one. You are both going to have a wonderful time here.”

  Rosanna held her breath. Dear God, I hope it will be so.

  ****

  The covered drive on the broad street, flanked by countless square buildings with high roof peaks and large windows, passed by in a blur, courtesy of Rosanna’s tormented thoughts.

  She barely saw the Capital Avenue Theater or the majestic opera house with its elegant stained glass windows and solid brick walls. Instead her mind wavered over the truth of her condition and how she would explain her lack of trust to her future husband.

  All too soon the drive was over, and they pulled up to a two-floor building on East Seventeenth Street.

  Rosanna caught her breath and tried to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. The sprawling Victorian home stood amidst a spacious lawn with meandering paths. Elegant bay windows and a stately front porch held ornamental floral designs in an artful display.

  Carriage houses stood off to one side and straggled hedges adorned the walkway, which would bloom in the spring under large branches of mostly leafless trees. Rosanna could just imagine their verdant beauty when summer came around again.

  The walkway led to a few steps and a door made of wood and stained glass in radiant hues. When it opened and a male servant dressed in finery let them in, Rosanna struggled to hold on to a sense of reality. The opulence of the surroundings hit her like a blizzard wind, and she almost ran for dear life.

  The servant did not appear to notice her distress or the way her eyes darted back and forth. He removed her jacket and took the travel bag from her numb fingers with efficient finesse. When he raised his hands for her hat and veil, she stepped back with a gasp; he hesitated with a frown, and then bowed slightly from the waist.

  Before she could explain, Agatha’s cheerful request beckoned her forward. “Rosanna, stop dawdling. Come to the living room; my brother and mother are waiting to meet you.”

  In a daze, Rosanna entered the high-ceilinged room with its graceful fixtures, elegant furniture, and electric lights. She barely noticed the lush ferns in wide ceramic pots nestled in the corners or the lavender-papered walls. Instead, her wide eyes clung to the man and woman who rose to meet her.

  The woman came forward first with deep-set hazel eyes and a firm mouth with hard lines. Her hair, a mixture of blonde and silver highlights, curved away from her face in a stylish bun. The silk and satin attire, much like Agatha’s, enhanced her statuesque frame, and her voice held a husky lilt.

  “My name is Mary Malone. I am the mother of Alexander and you have already met my daughter.”

  After her dry greeting, she turned to Agatha with a glare. “I must say, Agatha, you have outdone yourself with your boldness. Your brother nearly had a fit when I told him what you were up to, and now a woman and a child are standing in our parlor.”

  Agatha stepped forward and said with a wince, “She is standing in front of you, Mother. You might want to show a little of the kindness you speak about in church so often.”

  Mrs. Malone harrumphed and eyed Rosanna with a tilted brow, her mouth turned down. “Do you have a cold? Remove
your bonnet and sit, young lady. I will have Alfred bring us some refreshments.”

  Rosanna started in shock, her eyes glued to the figure behind Mrs. Malone. It was only then she realized Alexander had not written the letters—Agatha did the honors for him.

  David hid himself in her skirts, and she could feel his flushed body trembling, much like her own. Patting him absentmindedly on the head, she stood in a haze of indecision, wondering what to do.

  When Alexander came forward, green eyes looked her over. He towered over her by at least a foot, and she balked somewhat at his height. Tall people did not run in her family line, and she herself stood slightly over five feet.

  She barely registered his square jaw, broad forehead, and firm mouth, or the way success clung to him like the scent of moist woods after a rainy day. Instead she focused on the tenor of his words.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Rosanna. Will you remove your bonnet please? Mother is a stickler for certain customs.”

  His gentle request went a long way to ease some of her fears, and gave Rosanna a flickering of hope. It appeared he and Agatha shared a similar nature, apart from their mother.

  When she untied the veil from around her neck and removed her bonnet with white knuckles, Mary gasped in horror.

  “My God. She’s ill!”

  The air swirled to a standstill and a lonely cricket ceased his cheerful song. An awkward silence descended, and the room filled with unspoken explanations.

  Agatha broke the silence with soft hand on Rosanna’s shoulder. “So, that’s why you wore a veil. Why didn’t you explain in the letter?”

  Rosanna blinked and moistened dry lips. She desperately wanted to excuse herself, but she didn’t know what to say. “Forgive me. I thought if I—”

  Mary interrupted with a sneer, plummeting the warm air by frigid degrees. “You thought what? That we would keep you once you got here? Stuff and nonsense. How dare you do such a thing to this family?”

  Rosanna stepped back, oblivious to David’s whimper at her side. Her throat felt like dry parchment and dark spots danced across her eyes. She could not remember when she’d last had a bite to eat, and she longed for a drink of water.

  Mary gathered steam to vent her indignation. Her eyes froze into an icy stare and she snapped, “We have to send her back. This will never work. Alexander, does anyone know she came here?”

  Agatha attempted to appease the situation with a swift reply: “Mother, there is nothing wrong with being sick. Besides, you can see she is not sick now.”

  Rosanna appreciated the sincere attempt to defend her honor, but Mary could not be appeased so easily.

  “You fool! Don’t you know smallpox when you see it? Alexander, you are the oldest and should have some sense on your shoulders. What do you think it can do to this family? Wipe us out, that’s what. This is all your fault, Agatha. You never should have—”

  The voice faded into dark swirls that struck Rosanna and ripped the balance from under her feet. She staggered backward struggling to inhale precious drops of air, but her shallow breaths increased.

  As the argument progressed, she swooned under the onslaught of the tirade and collapsed in a helpless heap to the floor. She barely registered David’s anxious wail as her world crumbled into oblivion.

  ****

  “Rosanna, please open your eyes.”

  The male voice spoke to her urgently, and Rosanna’s lids rose slowly in response. Every pore in her body ached and she groaned softly. Her legs felt as stiff as wooden sticks, and the streaming sunlight filtering into the window burned her eyes. She shaded them with her right hand to let them adjust more slowly, and turned to the speaker.

  The figure walked over to the window and pulled the curtains together, leaving only a faint glow behind.

  “Better now?”

  Rosanna smiled, appreciating Alexander’s concern for her wellbeing. His dark hair gleamed over his crisp gingham shirt and dark trousers. When he strolled next to the bed, she noted his shiny boots and a large Stetson in his hand.

  “I put you in the guest room until we can make more permanent arrangements. I have to check on the cattle in the up-country due to the weather, but I will be back in a few hours.”

  The guest room? Rosanna glanced around, admiring the white linen sheets and the profusion of peaches-and-cream furnishings. A lush multicolored rug covered the floor and picturesque paintings adorned the papered walls. How she loved his home.

  “The doctor has been by for the last four days. It has taken quite some time to get you back.”

  Four days? It couldn’t be that long. Rosanna tried to sit up, only to collapse, stunned at the lack of strength in her limbs. Why couldn’t she move? He read her mind and responded to her inaudible question.

  “You’re still weak and the doctor wants you in bed for two more days. He says you are fully cured and there is no danger of any outbreaks around here. My mother, I must say, is slightly pleased.”

  At the mention of his mother, Rosanna snapped her eyes shut. She did not want to have another discussion with Mrs. Malone ever again. She had been a fool to think she could make a new life for herself and her brother in a foreign land with people she did not know. What had possessed her to consider such a ridiculous notion?

  “Rosanna, look at me, please.”

  His quiet request urged a response, and her tear-filled eyes turned to his own. “Agatha received a letter two days ago from a lady by the name of Gwendolyn Mason. It seemed she sent it the moment you left. She explained your situation completely and helped us to understand. I am sorry you have been through so many hardships, but I hope you will make your home here with me. Are you still willing to go through with the marriage?”

  Rosanna bit back shameful tears. She couldn’t marry him now. Not out of pity or charity. “No. I want to go back home.”

  He seemed to understand her dilemma, and expelled a deep sigh. He glanced at his pocket watch and came to a decision. “Your brother is dying to see you, despite Agatha’s attempt to keep him engaged. I will send him up, along with some breakfast, and then you can rest for the next two days. After that, we will see what can be done, all right?”

  He did not wait for her response, and left with hurried steps. Rosanna watched him depart and felt even more wretched than before. Maybe he couldn’t wait to get away from her. Why did I come here, dear God? Why?

  ****

  Alexander stopped by the Warren’s Emporium to consult with Ms. Hinckley. Her generous form, ample smile, and large-heartedness attracted many customers to one of the most prestigious retail establishments in Cheyenne.

  The building itself housed more than twenty different stores, with bright window displays of furniture, musical instruments, and delicate glassware. Sixty feet above the floor, a massive glass cupola greeted all guests, and a ladies’ lounge provided a relaxed atmosphere to indulge even the most demanding of shoppers.

  When Mrs. Hinckley saw Alexander, she rushed from behind the front counter to give him a hearty embrace. “Mr. Malone, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. Settled down yet?”

  Alexander shook his head with a tired sigh. “No, and please call me Alexander. I am glad you asked that question, because I’m planning to start a family of my own.”

  At her raised brow, he elaborated, “You will find out soon enough, so I’d better tell you now: Agatha arranged for me to wed a mail-order bride from Philadelphia.”

  Mrs. Hinckley placed a hand over her mouth to muffle the surprised cry, and dragged Alexander down one of the aisles. “Really? Well, this has certainly made my day. Your mother must be pleased.”

  Alexander chuckled. Mrs. Hinckley knew his mother well enough to realize nothing could truly please her. “She’ll come around, but I need your help. Rosanna’s friends dressed her as best they could to make the journey, but I’d like a whole new wardrobe made for her. There is only one slight issue to deal with: she had smallpox a few months ago.”

  At the older woman�
�s gasp, Alexander drew her further down the aisle aside to avoid curious ears.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but Agatha is planning to help her get rid of the spots, and maybe you know of some home remedies to use. For the moment, I want to keep her away from prying eyes, and when she goes out with me, she will wear a veil until she gets much better. Guess it’s great that it’s winter here, so it will raise much less curiosity. There is also the issue of her brother.”

  Mrs. Hinckley gaped and then snapped her mouth shut with a self-conscious smile. Some of her customers waved their farewell and she barely glanced at them, enthralled with the story of Alexander’s future bride. “My stars, dear boy. You do have your hands full.”

  “Yes, it seems I do. That is why I need your help. Rosanna is finally up today and ready to receive visitors. I want you to meet her first and then bring some clothing to the house, whatever you think she would like and fits well. I need some for her brother David, too. Agatha will take care of the expenses.”

  Mrs. Hinckley flushed and waved away his reminder of payment. “Gracious me, Mr. Malone. You have a standing tab here, so there’s no need to be reminding me of such matters. Just give me the pleasure of meeting this charming young lady.”

  Alexander relaxed at Mrs. Hinckley’s willingness to help him. She was the only one he trusted to keep Rosanna’s condition to herself.

  Now he had two more obstacles on his hands: convince Rosanna to marry him, and help his mother to overcome her opposition to the union.

  He waved farewell to Mrs. Hinckley and chuckled on the way out. The next few weeks should prove to be mighty interesting.

  ****

  One month later

  Rosanna ambled along the various books arranged in neat rows, searching for one to read. The glowing light of the electric hanging lamps illuminated the library, revealing even the most distant shadows, and she perused the titles with ease.