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

by Charity Phillips

  Ultimately, it wasn’t until much later that night that Emma finally had her moment alone with Frederick. Margaret had fallen asleep and was curled up on a seat with Frederick’s coat draped over her. Frederick was staring thoughtfully out the window, and Emma took a long moment to simply watch him. He had a strong square jaw and full lips that caused dimples to appear when they pulled into a real smile, the kind where his teeth were shown. His eyes were expressive and dark, whispering of depths that went straight to his soul. His dark hair was kept short, styled carefully and deliberately.

  Emma was so lost in watching him, that she didn’t realize he had turned to look at her. Embarrassed, Emma looked away quickly as her cheeks burned a bright rosy red. Smiling kindly at her, Frederick said, “Is everything alright? Have I… distracted you somehow?”

  “Oh, no—of course not!” she said hurriedly, shaking her head. “I merely… well, I wanted to speak with you. I was simply trying to decide what it was that I wanted to say. The last thing I’d want would be to make a fool of myself with the words I chose.”

  “I would hardly think you’d be capable of being a fool.”

  “No?” Emma found herself challenging before she could think better of it. “Isn’t that how you think of me now, traveling across the country into the wildness of the West, daughter in tow, only to meet with a man I have no way of knowing with the intent of marriage?” She took a breath, realizing that her long rambling retort had been entirely inappropriate.

  Frederick’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “No, I don’t think any such thing.”

  “Then why is it you’re so opposed to my leaving?” Emma demanded, suddenly feeling angry as her worries began to wash over her like a tide. “Is it because of Margaret? Do you fear losing her? Because if I have any say at all, you shall always be a welcome part of my daughter’s life. I would never—”

  “I do fear losing Margaret, it’s true,” Frederick admitted, his face suddenly a mask of intensity. “But it isn’t the only reason I am opposed to this endeavor. There are a thousand reasons I can think of, all of them fair and appropriate for one who acts as chaperone or friend in the capacity that I do. But they are not the one true reason for which I’d give anything I have to stop this from happening.”

  Searching his face as though she might find the answers there, Emma asked in a quiet voice, “Then what is your reason, Frederick?”

  He hesitated. There was a long pause as silence filled the car, making Emma wonder if he might tell her at all. Finally, after debating within himself he told her in as plain of terms as he could.

  “I love you Emma. I have for so long now, I cannot even think of when it began. To see you leaving to marry another man…” He shook his head, his features shifting as though he were in pain. “I simply could not bear it.”

  Shock registered in Emma. It filled her up, washing through her chest and up her throat, accompanied by a full blush that seemed to warm her entire body. She couldn’t think; she didn’t know what to think. In love? Her dear, sweet Frederick, the friend who had stood beside her for so long as everything around her seemed to simply fall apart in a single swoop. How could this be true, and how was it that she had not noticed at all?

  “I…” Emma found that she had no words. She didn’t know what sort of response she should to offer him, the both of them knowing that she was currently on the train making this trip in order to meet her future husband. “I don’t know what to say!”

  Frederick moved from his seat across from her to kneel before her, scooping her delicate hands up in his. “I understand if there is nothing to say, my lovely Emma,” he told her in a soft, deep voice that soothed an ache in her heart before she even realized it. “My timing has never been good, and I do not see why now might be any different.” He laughed a little at himself, the sound sending a thrill through Emma’s heart. “I was going to tell you that night in your apartment when you showed me the ad for the paper.”

  “Oh, Frederick, I didn’t—”

  He shook his head to stop her apology. “You couldn’t have known. I have tried to be there for you, but you so adamantly resist my efforts. I do not begrudge you this, I only wish that it might have been different. When you told me of your desire to leave for Montana, I was heartbroken. I had waited too long to confess my love for you, and now I would never know whether or not we might have a happy life together. But you must know, that I have always loved you, Emma, and if your happiness lies in Montana, then I would take you there as fast as I could manage, no matter my own heart’s expense.”

  As Emma thought back on all of the times Frederick had tried so diligently to take care of her and Margaret, of those moments when he would read to her daughter by the light of the fire, when he would bring them dinner without being asked and knowing that they could offer him nothing in compensation. Oh, he had always been such a good man right there in front of her, but she had never dreamed… she had never let herself even imagine that he might love her so dearly.

  She hadn’t dared to let herself love him.

  “Frederick,” she began, her heart swelling as she realized the truth that had been staring her in the face the entire time; the intensity in his eyes, the fondness in his smile. “If I had known that you loved me so, I never would have even thought to seek out another man. Frederick, you have always been so good and generous that I dared not hope that I might be so lucky twice in my life.”

  Hope blossomed across Frederick’s features. “Emma, darling, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that… that I love you, too.”

  “Oh, Emma!”

  They embraced tenderly and it occurred to her then that she would have to tell her suitor that her plans had changed.

  ****

  Livingston, Montana - 1875

  When they arrived in Montana, Emma was equal parts giddy and nervous. She had found the love of her life on the train to meet her future husband and now she would have to deal with the consequences of such a realization. With Margaret in one hand and Frederick in the other, Emma felt as though she could face anything. She only hoped that Henry was as good of a man as she believed.

  Henry met them at the station. He was an attractive man with strong features and hair that was only just beginning to gray. There was a beard trimmed along his jawline and brown eyes surrounded by weathered wrinkles.

  “Mrs. Hammersley?”

  Clearing her throat and straightening herself as best she could, she stepped forward. “Yes. Henry, I presume?”

  He removed the wide brimmed hat he wore and nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. And this is your chaperone?”

  She hesitated. She had to share the truth, and the sooner the better under the circumstances.

  “Yes, well he… was my chaperone,” she admitted carefully. “I’m afraid that I must tell you that things have changed since the last letter you received.”

  Frowning, Henry glanced between Frederick and Emma. With a sigh, he said, “I think we’d best sit down and discuss this.”

  They spoke for nearly three hours, Emma doing most of the explaining. She told him of how she had a feeling that Frederick had been fond of her, though she had been too worried of addressing it and possibly ruining such a lovely friendship. When he finally confessed his love for her, it blossomed in her heart like a wild flower and she could never allow herself to do without him now.

  Henry was less heartbroken than the average man prepared for marriage might be. He, like Emma had been herself, understood that their marriage was to be one of convenience with only the possibility of growing into something more. It meant that his feelings weren’t necessarily hurt so much as the inconvenience of it all weighing itself on him.

  “I understand your predicament,” Henry finally told her with a sigh. “I only wish you might have found this out a bit sooner so I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of planning a wedding, you see.”

  Emma apologized, though she didn’t know what else she might offer up in
condolence. She could offer to pay for it, of course, but that seemed an unlikely situation. Frederick certainly had the money, but she wasn’t about to promise his money to pay for something that was so clearly her doing.

  In the end, it was Frederick who made the suggestion. “I would like to pay for the arrangements,” he told Henry, sounding business like. “In return, I was wondering if perhaps we might use them so that they do not go to waste?”

  Emma looked at him in surprise, but a smile quickly spread across his face. “Oh, Frederick, really?”

  Smiling back at her he said, “There is nothing I would want more in this world than to have you by my side.”

  ****

  In only one week, their wedding day was set. Margaret was dressed in the most darling of little white dresses trimmed in a fine gold material that shone in the sunlight; she carried a basket of flowers which she tossed along the aisle as she moved towards where her father to be stood. Frederick looked very handsome in his suit, grey with hanging coattails and a bowtie fastened at his neck.

  Irish lace woven with purple and pink flowers adorned the makeshift altar. There were only a scant few guests present—none of which Emma knew beyond Henry—but they had been invited for Henry’s wedding and Emma knew they needed witnesses. She didn’t mind the small venue and found it more delicate and intimate for the occasion.

  When Margaret had reached the front, Emma stepped out. A quartet of violinists began to play a beautiful, soft melody as she walked down the aisle. Her beautiful, high-necked white dress dragged along the wooden clapboards as she made her way towards her betrothed. A light veil covered her face, though she could still see Frederick standing there smiling. He waited for her with baited breath until she was finally by his side. Emma stopped at the altar and handed her wildflower bouquet to her daughter, who was grinning broadly.

  When she turned back to Frederick, he lifted the veil to reveal her smiling face. Taking her hands in his, the ceremony began. He promised to love her for the rest of his days and to care for her to the best of his ability. She promised to make his house a home and to love him until her last breath. When the reverend asked if they would take each other for the rest of their days, the answer was simple: “I will.”

  Days after the ceremony, Emma and Frederick decided to return home to Hartford. Within the year, they were blessed with a son; another daughter followed one year later. Margaret was able to attend the best of schools, and they watched her grow into a lovely young woman—just like her mother. Emma and Frederick spent the rest of their years together, and with each passing year, they found that their love grew even stronger than ever before.

  THE END

  Montana Mail Order Bride: Julia

  Story Description

  When a boy whom Julia has been charged to take care of dies, she is left searching for her next path in life. Her choices are limited, as she is not a wealthy woman nor is she married, and she fears that she must take the charity of her only living relative.

  At the last moment, a dear friend suggests a rather risky plan: to travel across the country to the Montana frontier in search of a husband she has never met. Julia follows through, despite her reservations, only to find that her husband to be is a widower with a young son and a cold heart due to the circumstances that he has faced.

  Will her warm and caring presence be the perfect cure to melt his heart?

  Baltimore, Maryland - 1871

  Julia packed up her things. She had been tending to young Marcus for nearly three weeks and now that he had passed on, it was time for her to go. There were only a few things in the Cranston household that belonged to her: clothing, a few personal mementos from her childhood, and the silver locket she’d carried with her through the war.

  When she was packed, Julia hefted her large bag down the massive staircase towards the foyer. The butler, Mr. Taylor was standing at the front door awaiting her. When he saw that she was struggling with her bags, he hurried quickly up the steps to help her.

  “Please, ma’am, let me take that for you,” he told her, sliding his hands through the luggage straps and tugging it away from her.

  She protested only a moment before accepting his kindness. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I think I may just miss your kindness.”

  He blushed a little and looked away. “Thank you, ma’am. I am sorry to see you go. House won’t be the same without you.”

  “No, I suppose it won’t.”

  Her mind wandered to poor little Marcus. He was only twelve when he’d caught the pneumonia that ended up being his death. Although she had come to live with the Cranston family in order to take care of him—and with hopes that she might be able to do something for him—there were only a few in the house that she’d become fond of. Marcus, of course, who delighted in bedtime stories and hot soup, Mr. Taylor, who had taken the time to show her the ins and outs of the rather large mansion, and Miss Cora. She was twenty-five, only a year older than Julia, and was Marcus’s favorite aunt. Frequently, she would skip brunch in order to play pirates with Marcus, and when he got too sick to get up from his bed, she would put on little puppet plays to entertain him.

  Julia had once asked how she’d come to be so fond of the boy and Cora revealed that she could have no children of her own, making her dote lavishly upon her nephew. She was taking his death the hardest of all.

  When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Taylor put down her suitcase and turned to her. “I’ve hailed a carriage for you, Miss Julia,” he told her somberly. “He’s waiting for you outside.”

  Julia thanked him and gave him a quick hug, not lingering because she was still unmarried and he was a household servant. Propriety still mattered, whether she enjoyed the idea or not.

  When she pulled away, Julia took one last lingering look at the mansion. It was large and, she thought, rather opulent; so different from the little apartment she had in the city. She had left it to become the live-in nurse for the Cranstons, but now that the time had come for her to leave, she was in a bit of a bad spot. She hadn’t kept her apartment after moving in, thinking that there would be plenty of time to find another one before she was to leave. At the time, she had hoped her leaving would signal the return of Marcus’s health rather than his death.

  As things happened, Marcus died in his sleep one night, and just like that, there was no longer a need for Miss Julia.

  Just as Julia was about to leave, turning towards the door as Mr. Taylor gathered up her bag once again, the door to the far room burst open. A tearful Cora glided into the room, her cheeks and nose the same rosy red color. She clutched a handkerchief and used it to dab at her eyes now and then. Sniffling, she called out to Julia, “Wait! You can’t possibly leave without saying goodbye!”

  Julia paused, smiling sympathetically at Cora. “I’m so sorry. I just thought it might be better for everyone if I left before the funeral service. I hate to be a bother.”

  Cora waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I consider you my dear friend. You did more for poor Marcus—” she choked a little on his name as it left her lips, “—than anyone here. I daresay you loved him more than his mother.”

  Sorrow plucked at Julia’s heartstrings and she did her best not to grimace. She had cared for Marcus, though she had tried her best to distance herself from him. As time wore on, she knew that there was little she could do for the poor boy and death was inevitable. She didn’t want him to leave such a heavy weight on her, but he had wormed his way into her gentle heart and if she were being honest with herself, his death affected her greatly.

  “I will miss him,” she answered Cora in a small voice.

  Cora sniffled as she came to a halt in front of Julia. “Oh, I don’t want to stay in this house with its dreadful ghosts!”

  Julia understood that this wasn’t just about Marcus. Cora and her family had experienced a good deal of grief the last few years—many people had after the war with the South—and more than a few hard memories wandered the mansi
on halls.

  Taking Cora’s hand in her own, Julia gave it a gentle squeeze in comfort. “You won’t stay, will you?”

  Cora shook her head. “No. Christian and I are going to New York in a few days. My brother-in-law is already unhappy with my extended stay and he and Christian have never gotten along.”

  “Perhaps that is for the best. There’s nothing really keeping you here now.”

  With a sigh, Cora nodded her head in agreement. “No, there isn’t. My sister is too busy worrying over her dresses and the state of the house to even acknowledge her grief, and I am not interested in enduring the inevitable argument between the two of us because of it.” Dabbing at her eyes and sniffling again, Cora asked, “And what of you? Where shall you go now that my dear nephew has left for Heaven?”

  “I have an uncle in New Haven,” Julia explained with only a hint of embarrassment. She wasn’t too keen on traveling to New Haven and even less so to stay with her uncle. He was a stout man, strict and on occasion, cruel. There was fairness in him, but it came in short bursts that left everyone around him uneasy. “I’ll be taking the train there tonight so that I can stay with him.”

  Cora’s expression was one of surprise. “Oh! I hadn’t realized you would be leaving the state entirely. And to the North, no less!”

  Julia ignored the comment of the North. The war was over and there were no longer the Union and the Confederacy; they were all one nation now. Maryland had been the southernmost Union state, meaning that much of its population had been divided on the opinion. There were some, like Cora and her family, who had thought they ought to have been Confederates, and maybe in their hearts were. Julia, however, had been a nurse’s assistant in the war. She was only seventeen, hardly old enough for much of anything, but when they called for volunteers to help out the wounded soldiers, she had eagerly offered. It had taught her an awful lot, including how to be a nurse, her current profession. She believed in the Union and trusted it to pull them through the terrible times ahead.