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

by Charity Phillips

  He wanted to shout at the young man. Instead, he watched them all drift to Walter’s house at the corner, where they stored their cache of guns.

  Sadie took both of his hands and pulled his attention to her. She smiled, and he noticed she didn’t show her front teeth as she did—presumably because there were people near. He could tell she was trying to cheer him up, but there wasn’t enough cheer to stretch between the both of them; worry was set in the lines of her face, around her dark lashes, even the dimples beside her full lips. Two months was all it took for him to be able to read her like a book—and it had taken her even less to learn to read him.

  Samuel kissed her softly, and she melted into his embrace as his arms tightened around her.

  When he pulled back, surprise was written clearly on her features. “What was that for?”

  “I love you,” Samuel said simply. “And I’m grateful for you.”

  She smiled at him. “But we didn’t even get to try my plan? I might as well have stayed home.”

  A cry of anguish forced their bodies apart, and Samuel turned toward Walter’s house. He looked at Sadie as the men started to pour out onto the street—without guns.

  Elliot was first, screaming wordlessly with his hands toward the sky. Walter shuffled out, trying to quiet him while patting his shoulders with both hands.

  “It’s okay, boy! It’s okay!”

  Samuel trotted over to the crowd, trying to make sense of what had happened from the furious mumbles and shouts.

  Jeremiah walked over to him. “Guns are gone,” he said darkly. “Took them right out of the house, sometime tonight. Like they knew we’d try it.”

  Samuel laughed, but it was dry and bitter. “Of course they did. So they can shoot at us as we come up.”

  Sadie shook her head as she walked up beside him. “No, they won’t do that. Not if we all don’t go up.”

  The crowd around her fell silent, and Elliot narrowed his eyes. “Why do you keep trying to be a part of this? You’re a woman! You’re staying down here!”

  “No,” Sadie snapped, striding over until she was an inch away from him. Elliot scrambled back into the man behind him, his eyes wide with shock. “We’ve tried it your way, Ivan, and it didn’t work! Now, we try our plan, and it doesn’t involve you. Sit down and be quiet!”

  She turned on her heel and marched back to Samuel, her eyes hardened. “Just you and me, then.”

  Samuel shivered, love and terror swallowing his heart in a confusing and exhilarating rush. “Just you and me.”

  The linked hands and walked up the hill, ignoring Jeremiah’s shouts and Polly’s startled cries. Samuel heard Sadie’s breath hitch, and he thought she would cry—but, instead, she asked him a question.

  “Are you okay with this plan, Samuel?”

  He was so surprised he nearly stopped walking. “Of course, Sadie.”

  He turned her face to him, just as surprised as he’d been. “Really? You trust me enough to feel confident in this…even though you’ve only known me for two months?”

  Samuel was quiet as they passed the last block of houses and started toward the path that led them to the barn. “Well,” he said finally. “I feel like it’s longer than two months.”

  “Because of the letters?”

  Samuel shook his head and smiled. “No. I mean, that’s certainly part of it, but not all. It’s more like…love has its own time. When I’m with you, things slow down, but not in a bad way. In the best way possible. Every day feels like a little lifetime pushed between a sunrise and sunset.” He laughed. “But it’s still not enough. If we saw a million sunrises, it wouldn’t be enough.”

  Sadie was silent for a moment. “Are you scared?”

  Samuel shrugged. “A little. But not so much, because of you.” He paused. “I’m scared for you, I guess. But being here with you makes it okay.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” She sniffed, and Samuel saw her wipe away a tear. “I’m sorry.”

  It was the second time she’d surprised him in as many minutes. “For what?”

  “For getting us into this,” she answered morosely. “They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. Or if I’d just not taken the stupid diamond, or not told one of the people in that town…I made so many mistakes.”

  Samuel sighed. “Don’t apologize, Sadie. You didn’t get us into this, they did. They’re choosing to try to take from you, and terrorize the town while they do it. And besides…I’ve made mistakes, too. A million of them. And I’d make them again if they led me to you. You’re worth it, Sadie.”

  Sadie’s eyes were on him when they started up the hill, and when they got to the top, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. Her eyes were sparkling with tears when she pulled away.

  “I love you, Samuel.”

  His heart felt so full of love he thought it might collapse. “I love you too, Sadie.”

  He looked toward the house and shouted as loud as he could. “We’re going in! Just us two. Leave the kids in the house. We have the diamond.”

  Sadie took his hand again as they walked into the barn, heading toward the far wall as they stepped gingerly over the hay. They’d put fresh hay down an hour before, and as long as the bandits hadn’t seen them, the plan would work. They stood with their backs pressed against the wall, waiting for the men to come in.

  It only took them a minute. The leader came through first, and Samuel recognized him instantly—the floppy haired redhead who’d dropped off Sadie’s bags. He sneered as he looked at Samuel, but the sneer turned into a smirk as his eyes fell on Sadie and the other men filtered in behind him, blocking the doorway.

  “Well, well,” he said. “I wouldn’t have guessed it was you two. Hoped, maybe,” he said, smiling lewdly at Sadie.

  Samuel felt her shiver behind him. He pulled the diamond from his back pocket and offered it to them. The redhead took a step forward, but Samuel held up his other hand to stop them.

  “Are the children safe?”

  The redhead man’s eyes narrowed. “What? Why do you care about the brats?”

  “They’re the only reason you’re getting this diamond,” Sadie spat. “We don’t want you running back and trying to use one of them for another ransom again.”

  The men were quiet, and Samuel wondered if that had been their plan exactly.

  He took a breath. “No funny business,” he said. “All of you come forward at the same time. Link arms, and keep them linked while we leave. Remember, no funny business!”

  The three men looked at each other. “What?”

  “Just do it!” Samuel shouted, stretching the diamond out toward them.

  There was an excruciating moment when Samuel thought they smelled foul play—but then the diamond caught the light of the lamp they’d brought with them, and he saw the greed reflected in their eyes. The men linked arms begrudgingly and started to shuffle forward, the redhead straining slightly to be in the front of the pack.

  They reached the center of the room before the trap crumbled beneath their feet. The cellar door—whose hinges Sadie had reversed and whose wood Samuel had shortened—swung down and inward, bringing the three down with it and sending them into the cellar below. There was a sickening crunching noise as the second man fell through, and when Samuel rushed forward, he saw the redheaded bandit clutching his broken leg and howling in pain.

  The redheaded man started spewing curses at Sadie when he saw her, but his face was rapidly growing pale. The third man was unconscious, and the second man had a broken arm, and looked as though he might be sick.

  Samuel slipped an arm around her back and lifted her as he stood. “Come on,” he said as the men continued to scream and scramble around the cellar. “You don’t need to see this.”

  They exited the barn to find everyone who was awake running up the hill to greet them, as well as the Raymonds rushing over from the other hill. Samuel pulled Sadie closer to his side as their friends and neighbors
crowded in to congratulate them on catching the bandits, their words flowing over them like a warm summer rain.

  “Was that your plan, Sadie?”

  “I knew you could do it!”

  “Glad you didn’t retire to the countryside, Samuel!”

  And on and on and on. Even Elliot came by to slap them on their backs, and Walter hugged them both after assuring them he was sending for a sheriff who could retrieve the men by morning. Everyone came by to gush and fawn over them, some of them even stopping by twice.

  Samuel looked at Sadie while Polly was fussing over her dress, and she flashed him a smile big enough to show the gap between her teeth again. He smiled back, and they linked hands among the crowd, isolated on their own island of love among a sea of well-wishers. Samuel couldn’t have asked for a better welcome to retirement from the town, but the only person who really mattered was right beside him—and he knew, without her having to say, that she felt exactly the same.

  THE END

  Montana Mail Order Bride: Emma

  Story Description

  Hartford, Connecticut – 1875

  When Emma marries her sweet husband James, she thinks she will finally get her happily ever after. But after eight happy years of marriage, Emma is forced to let her dear James fall prey to deathly clutches of a horrible illness. All she has left now is her dearest twelve-year-old daughter, Margaret.

  Both take jobs as seamstresses in a factory downtown, but their meager wages just aren’t enough for the two to get by. Emma is forced to admit that she needs the help of another husband, so when a matrimonial ad appears in the paper from a Frontier man, Emma takes a risk and heads to Montana with Margaret and Frederick, a long-time dear friend of her late husband, who insists on accompanying the ladies as their chaperone.

  “To Mrs. Emma Hammersley,” read little Margaret, who was still so small despite being nearly twelve years old. “We regret to inform you that we shall not be able to financially support your family any longer. Although we sympathize with your unfortunate situation, we do not feel that it is our responsibility to continue to support a family that no longer includes our deceased son. Best, The Hammersley Estate.”

  When Margaret put down the letter, she glanced up at her mother with huge eyes. They were the bright blue color of her father’s and looked odd being so large in such an otherwise small body. Many had asked if poor Margaret was sickly and commented how it was bad enough that she was a girl; to be sick, too, was just an awful lot for a poor mother to bear. Emma had never placed much stock in their opinions, however, and staunchly believed that her beautiful little girl was simply a late bloomer.

  “Mother, does this mean we have been disowned?”

  Emma pursed her lips together tightly; what was she supposed to tell her sweet child? Spooning up the porridge into a small bowl, she placed it on the table in front of her daughter, suddenly regretting that she had insisted that Margaret read the letter at all. It was their tradition; the very early morning was a time for reading and the further expansion of young Margaret’s mind. Most days it was the previous day’s paper that Emma had her daughter read, however, when she had seen that Mrs. Hammersley had sent a letter, she thought it was the perfect opportunity to read something of a more personal note. She should have known that the devilish old woman had never taken a liking to her or her young daughter, and would write nothing but spiteful things in correspondence.

  “It means that we are finally free of your mean-spirited grandmother,” Emma told her with a wrinkle of her nose and a quick wink of her hazel eyes.

  Margaret grinned at her mother as she took up her spoon. When Emma brought her own bowl to the table and sat down across from her daughter, they both began to eat. It was a quiet meal, Emma’s thoughts too troubled by her mother-in-law’s unkind letter. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, realizing that things were slowly getting harder and harder for her tiny family.

  Oh, if only poor James had survived, Emma thought sadly to herself.

  When the sun started peeking through the window, Margaret glanced up in surprise—and dread. It was time for the both of them to go. Emma gathered up the dishes and placed them in the washtub for later, then they both grabbed their coats before heading out the door. They had to go down nearly five flights of stairs thanks to the new multistory building they’d had to move into last year. Holding tightly to Margaret’s hand, Emma headed out the front door towards the street. They weren’t far from the factory, thankfully, so they walked instead of trying to hail a hack carriage; they couldn’t afford it anyway.

  As they hurried towards the Brown building, Emma noticed young Mr. Mannford who always sold newspapers on the street. She paused to buy one, paid and thanked him, then went on her way.

  “I know it’s a long day, my darling, but we must do this.”

  Emma smoothed out the sweet curls that hung about her daughter’s pale face. Smiling, she knelt down and kissed her on the cheek; they would have to part here.

  “I know, mother,” Margaret said in a small voice. She had only been going to the factory for a few weeks, though the toll it was taking on her was quickly becoming evident. Emma would give everything she had in the world to have the money to once more send her little girl to gain the formal education those of a higher class might receive. Had James still been alive—or if James’s mother weren’t so dead set against including them in the family—it would have been possible.

  “It’s only for a little longer,” Emma promised. “Soon, fortune will smile on us again and we will be whisked away from this life.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “I promise you, things will get better, my little darling.”

  With that, Emma watched as her only child scampered up the steps into the factory building where she would work for the next ten hours. She wasn’t the only girl to head up those steps—their ages ranging between six and fourteen—but Emma couldn’t help but think that she was the most precious.

  When Margaret disappeared inside the doors—she would have to travel up three flights to find the room where she would spend her day sewing waistcoats—Emma turned away and headed down to her own job. She, too, was a seamstress, making on average only a little more than her young daughter. Neither of their wages would be enough to hold them for much longer, but it was all she could do for now.

  Gripping the paper tightly in her hand, she hoped that perhaps it held the answers she was so desperately searching for.

  ****

  When Emma arrived home that evening, Margaret was already sitting in the modest living room, entranced as she listened to an all too familiar voice. Emma smiled wearily and hung up her coat before joining the two as they read their stories.

  “…and she fell away into the water, nothing but foam and wishes.”

  The man sitting in the rocking chair closed the book, one of Margaret’s favorites about a siren and a lost maiden, and glanced up at Emma. With a bright smile, he rose from the chair and headed over to her. “Emma!”

  Returning his smile, Emma allowed herself to embrace her longtime friend. “Frederick! When did you return from your trip? I thought surely you would be another month.”

  “Nonsense. With our modern railroad advances, the potential of which does not stop, it marvels me only that it has taken so long.”

  Grinning, Margaret scrambled to her feet and rushed over to wrap her arms tightly about her mother’s middle. Since she was still working in the child factory, her hours could be no longer than ten a day by law. Emma’s, of course, were quite extended from that, and she was exhausted. But she was happy to see her daughter and was delighted to have found that Frederick returned.

  “Have you eaten?” Emma questioned her daughter.

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. Frederick cooked a lovely meal, with pheasant and everything!”

  “That’s wonderful.” Turning to Frederick, she asked, “How was your trip? Will you stay for long this time?”

  “Oh, I would like to.
Very much so.” He smiled fondly at Emma, then, they moved to the sitting room once again.

  The next two hours consisted of tales from Frederick’s journeys—many of which they’d already heard, though some were more recent—and Margaret begging to be allowed to stay up later still. Eventually, she fell asleep all on her own and Frederick carried her to bed. When she was tucked in, the two adults returned to the sitting room—Emma had important business to discuss.

  Pouring them each a cup of tea, Emma retrieved her newspaper from earlier that morning. Unfolding it, she found the page she was looking for: it was the section of the newspaper featuring advertisements of all kinds. Originally, Emma had been searching it with the hopes of finding a job that might result in better pay—and the possibility that her daughter might again attend formal education.

  “Emma, dearest,” Frederick began, concern clouding his normally handsome features. “What has you so worried? Is it little Margaret? I do wish you would let me help you with your troubles.”

  Emma shook her head vehemently. “I have told you already, I will take no charity. My poor little family is not your responsibility and how might I feel if I took advantage of the kindness of my dear James’s best and truest friend? No, I simply won’t have it.”

  Frederick let out a sigh that indicated he might be inclined to argue with her about it again. They had gone round and round with it dozens of times before, ever since James’s untimely death. His offer was surely genuine and his heart was filled with nothing but the best of intentions, but Emma could not force herself to take from someone she was so fond of. The responsibility of her state was either that of her family—which was clearly not the Hammersleys—or that of her husband. As Frederick was neither, she could not accept his generous offer.

  Before Frederick could begin the age-old argument, Emma quickly brought his attention to the newspaper. “I am concerned, I will admit,” she began, searching for the right ad. “It pains me to see poor Margaret denied the opportunities of other young girls her age simply because of my unfortunate state and her grandmother’s vindictiveness.”