Her Secret Baby (Black Hill Brides Book 2)

by Christine Sterling

  Her Secret Baby

  The Black Hills Brides

  Book Two

  Available Now From

  Christine Sterling

  Her Secret Past

  (Black Hills Brides #1)

  Her Secret Baby

  (Black Hills Brides #2)

  Coming Soon From

  Christine Sterling

  Her Secret Shame

  (Black Hills Brides #3)

  Spring 2018

  Her Secret Love

  (Black Hills Brides #4)

  Fall 2018

  Wanted: Medicine Man

  (Silverpines Series)

  Spring 2018

  Elenore

  (Heart of Gold Brides #1)

  Summer 2018

  Wanted: Gravedigger

  (Silverpines Series)

  Autumn 2018

  Her Secret Baby

  Black Hills Brides

  Book #2

  Christine Sterling

  Her Secret Baby

  This work is a book of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or part by any means without written permission from the author.

  Her Secret Baby. ©2017 Christine Sterling

  Cover Art: HotDamn Stock Photography, Pixabay

  Cover Design by Christine Sterling ©2017

  Acknowledgments

  To my own hero, protector, teacher and partner. You believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. I couldn’t ask for a better husband. I love you, Dan.

  To my daughters – Rebecca, Nora & Elizabeth. Never give up on your dreams.

  To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I am so blessed you call me daughter.

  For my sister, Kimberly

  I love you more than words can say. Thank you for encouraging me to never give up on my daydreams.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “No, please, don’t take him,” she cried. She turned towards him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. Her round eyes filled with tears as she continued to plead with him. “Thomas, please, don’t let them do this!”

  Tom Barrett woke up in a cold sweat. He stared up at the ceiling of his room, the air suffocating him. He threw off his blanket and sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Putting his hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing, he closed his eyes. The dream was running through his mind, like a cloud of smoke slipping out his ears. He hadn’t thought about her in years.

  She was so vivid in his mind, her cries still filling his ears. It was like it had happened yesterday. But he knew it wasn’t true; the memory was from years ago and he had buried those feelings for so long. Those thoughts always threatened to consume him. Thinking about her only brought him pain and Tom’s number one rule was to not care about anything that would require physical emotion.

  Once he steadied his breathing, he opened his eyes and stared at his surroundings. The walls of his room were worn and weathered. He could feel the chilly air filtering in through the cracks of the boards. It had been a few days since he started to exclusively sleep in the “old shack” (as Samantha, his best friend’s wife, had called it), and it was proving to be quite challenging to sleep there. He wasn’t used to the sounds of the farm; crickets were constantly piercing the night. The thick air wrapped around him like a wet blanket and he tossed and turned until he was almost dizzy.

  That night was the first night he settled into bed and had gone right to sleep, without the usual nightly rituals plaguing him. Then the dream happened, forcing him to abandon the sleep he craved so dearly. He let out a frustrated sigh. He missed the hotel, where he had been staying since he and his best friend, Seth Jenkins, came to this town. It was warm, quiet, and everything this place wasn’t. It was also nice to be within walking distance of the saloon, where he could have his pick of the loveliest ladies in town. They were always clambering to get into his bed; all with the same hope: to be the one who gets the wayward Tom Barrett to settle down. He would keep one or two around for a while until they got too cozy and marriage started to enter their conversations. Once the red flag is dealt, he slithered his way out.

  Seth always wondered how Tom had managed to reject all those women and yet, none of them felt scorned by it. It was a topic of conversation Tom found himself explaining when they worked together plowing the land or tending to the cattle, and the answer was always the same: when you make the woman realize you aren’t good enough for them, it’s easy to turn them to the right direction. And by right direction, he meant the next unsuspecting gentleman getting off the train. Without fail, he could always off-load his current female to another man. It was a technique he had perfected over the years.

  The morning was still hours away. Tom decided there was no point in dwelling on past thoughts, so he grabbed his blanket and rolled over, hoping sleep would come to him soon.

  Chapter 1

  Trees were swaying in the breeze as Elizabeth Jamison stared out the window. It was a lovely day; they wouldn’t have many more of those days now that the weather was turning colder. Tomorrow, maybe, she’ll be able to take the children to the park near the church. The walk was short, and the children needed to get out of the house. They were restless in their thoughts and it showed in their studies. Violet was especially naughty that morning; she wouldn’t stay still if her life depended on it. Maybe she would ask the mistress when she awoke from her afternoon nap.

  Elizabeth had been a governess for the Grayson family for a few years now since she turned 17 years old. The family was nice; the father was a wealthy merchant and the mother a sophisticated socialite. She was in charge of two little ones: Ashley, a shy seven-year-old, and Violet, a rambunctious ten-year-old. They kept her busy during the days and she truly enjoyed her job. But she couldn’t help but wonder, maybe there was something more to her life than just this?

  “Miss Jamison, why are you still here?” called a woman behind her. She turned to see Olivia Grayson standing in the kitchen. She yawned, stretching her arms up and over her head. “I would think you would have made your leave already.”

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. Usually, once the children’s studies were done, Elizabeth would make her way back to the servant’s quarters at the edge of the estate. “No, not yet. Mary asked me to stay a bit longer.” Mary was one of the servant girls; she was the youngest one and was having a bit of trouble with the children, Elizabeth had noticed. “I helped settle the children down for the afternoon.”

  Mistress Grayson gave a curt nod, but her face showed her disdain. Elizabeth had noticed more and more, Mrs. Grayson had a bit of contempt for Mary. “Oh, where are the darlings?” Mrs. Grayson asked.

  “They are reading in the study.”

  “And Mary?”

  “She’s outside hanging the laundry.”

  Mrs. Grayson moved to the window. She peered out at Mary, who was wrestling with the clothes line. Mistress Grayson was only six years older than Elizabeth; it was hard for Elizabeth to wrap her head around
treating her as anything more than her much older employer. She had married young to Francis Grayson and they had started their family almost immediately. Francis Grayson came from a very affluent family. Olivia was the daughter of a well-known businessman. Their marriage was the social engagement of the decade.

  Anne, her aunt, was thrilled when she was chosen for the governess job. It meant a security Anne couldn’t quite guarantee, until Elizabeth’s twenty-fifth birthday. Elizabeth gazed over at the woman next to her. Olivia Grayson had a regal beauty to her, like a porcelain doll your mother wouldn’t allow you to touch. She spent her days running many social engagements, but lately, Elizabeth had noticed a distinct change in the woman. She was tired all the time and seemed to spend her long days in bed. Even today, she could see the creases in her face and the tired look in her eyes.

  She narrowed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose, near her eyebrows. “That girl, I don't know what to do with her. I told Francis we needed someone with more experience, but he just laughed and said she would learn.”

  True, Mary was not the best servant. She made more messes than she cleaned; but

  Elizabeth admired her determination. “Mistress, she is trying. I see it in her face every day.”

  For a moment, there was only silence. Elizabeth held her breath, fearing she had overstepped her boundaries. Elizabeth had a habit of doing such things; Anne had to remind her countlessly whenever she spoke out of turn to her Uncle. She was about to apologize when she saw Mistress Grayson’s features soften. “You are right, she does try at least. I just miss Helen so much.”

  Elizabeth sighed in agreement. Helen was their previous maid; she was hard-working and efficient. However, she had married a young man from the town over and now they were expecting their first child. Mistress Grayson hadn’t yet gotten over the shock of it all.

  “She’s going to be out there until nightfall the way she is putting those clothes on that clothesline. I still need her to run errands.”

  “Mistress, if I may? I could do the errands for you.”

  Mistress Grayson looked surprised. “Really? That would be rather helpful. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “It’s no trouble, I promise. I’d be happy to help out.” Anything to help take the burden off Mary. She knew the girl was testing the Mistress’ patience, and it would only be a matter of time before she would do something, unintentionally, to bring bad favor and give the Mistress no choice but to let her go.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth. That is very kind of you. Let me get you a list.” The mistress walked out of the room to retrieve a pen and parchment. Elizabeth looked at the window again, as Mary was chasing a dress shirt down the lawn. At least there was a nice breeze.

  Elizabeth walked down the street, carrying a basket full of items her Mistress had requested. She was almost done with her errands; the only thing left to do was to drop off a few letters at the post office. A family walked by her, two little girls with a father and mother. One of the girls, no more than six, was running ahead with her father running after her, telling her not to venture too far away. The other little girl, probably around three, Elizabeth mused, was clutching her mother’s hand as they both walked slowly towards the two.

  Elizabeth smiled at the family. Watching little children always warmed her heart and made her green with envy. Ever since she was small, she always thought about her future family. In her mind, her husband never had a face, but she could always see her children. A boy with brown hair and her hazel eyes, a young girl with dark eyes and blonde hair. They were as clear as the day. She wanted them so much, the ache of loss clawing at her whenever her mind strayed too much. It wasn’t as if she didn’t try to be appealing to the opposite sex. She went to social gatherings, smiled and giggled her way through long conversations with men. She tried to make herself as available and desirable as possible. But for some reason, none of this seemed to appeal to them.

  All her friends had been married by now, and more than one was already pregnant with their second child. Once she asked her good friend what was so wrong with her. The friend avoided her eyes and tried to change the subject. Elizabeth was adamant, sternly asking again what her friend knew. She could see in her face that nothing good was going to come from it all; the friend simply said she had overheard her husband discussing with another gentleman about her. Apparently, no man wanted to date a working girl.

  Elizabeth never believed her job would affect the way men looked at her, but what they saw was a woman who could be disobedient and headstrong. The friend had asked her, in all seriousness, what she would do with her job if she did find a husband? Elizabeth herself didn’t know. She loved those children as if they were her own, but it was much more than that too. She enjoyed being able to effect change in a child’s life and she liked the freedom earning her own wages gave her. Living on her own gave her a freedom she didn’t have at her home with her aunt and uncle. Frankly, she wasn’t ready to give that up.

  And when she said this, the friend was very somber and told her she would have to be willing to make sacrifices. As headstrong as she felt, a man would expect her to be an obedient wife; that meant quitting her job and becoming a woman who would do anything and everything for her husband. Elizabeth scoffed at the idea. She saw how her uncle had treated her aunt, even from an early age. He treated her like property, and Elizabeth didn’t want that. So, she thought to herself, maybe a man like that didn’t exist.

  Elizabeth decided she would wait until she met such a man who would hold her as an equal, who would love her, not because she was a docile woman, but because she was herself. And she would be obedient and faithful to him, not because he was her husband and she was his property, but because she loved him and would do it because of that. She wanted them to be devoted to each other, not to have the relationship turn to one side over the other.

  Before she realized it, she was at the post office. She walked up the steep steps and into the small building. It was dusty and smelled like stale parchment. An old man was standing behind a long desk at the end of the room. “Oh, Miss Jamison, what a lovely surprise!” he said, as he pushed aside the envelopes he was looking at.

  Elizabeth smiled and glided towards him. Mr. Hobbs was a very kinder, older gentleman. He had worked at the post office for as long as Elizabeth could remember, probably since she came to this town. Elizabeth had grown up with his grandchildren, so she had seen him often. “Hello, Mr. Hobbs! How are you today?”

  He sighed and took her outstretched hand to kiss. “I’ve had better days. What brings you out here? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “The Mistress wanted me to complete some errands.”

  “Oh, what of Mary? Has the Mistress already tired of her?”

  It seemed the incompetence of the Grayson family’s new maid had reached the town’s ears. Elizabeth tried not to change her facial expression, hoping it didn’t betray her. “There’s just a lot of chores to get done around the house, you know, with winter coming. The Mistress asked me to help.”

  Mr. Hobbs didn’t look too convinced but took her word anyway. “Yes, they say this winter may be the coldest ever.” They kept up their conversation a bit, with Elizabeth handing over the letters the Mistress wanted to be mailed. Then Mr. Hobbs remembered a parcel had arrived for Mr. Grayson. He asked her to wait while he went to the back to fetch it.

  Elizabeth let her eyes wander around the room until they landed on a newspaper at the end of the desk. Curious, she walked forward to look at the page. Strangely, it was only a few pages, and what she could tell, full of ads. What was odd was these ads seemed to be requesting women to come out west, with the promise of marriage. The ads were looking for women who were interested in working and helping their future husbands. She held the paper in her hand, reading one after the other.

  She was so engrossed in her reading, she hardly noticed when Mr. Hobbs had returned. “Sorry for the delay, it seems I misplaced the package. I had to rummage t
hrough some old bags.” He looked over the package and wrote something down in a ledger. “It’s small enough to fit in your basket, thank goodness. Oh, what have you there?” he asked when he noticed Elizabeth was holding something in her hands.

  Blushing like a cat caught with the canary, she walked over with the newspaper, showing the paper in her hands to him. “It seemed someone had left this behind. I was just reading it over.”

  “Oh? Well, this must have been from earlier. A young woman walked in with a few letters, I noticed the paper in her hands. She must have dropped it.”

  Elizabeth stared at the paper and again at Mr. Hobbs, as he started to put the ledger away. She set her basket on the table and before she could stop herself, she asked: “What are these ads?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Mr. Hobbs asked in bewilderment.

  She pushed the paper towards him. “These ads, what are they?”

  He took the paper from her hands and peered at the words from the edge of his nose. He pushed his glasses back, his eyes dancing back and forth. “Oh, these are advertisements for brides.”

  Elizabeth turned her head quizzically. “Brides?”

  “Yes, I believe the term often used is ‘mail order brides.’ Many men take the journey out west to make a different life for themselves. But there aren’t many prospects in terms of marriage since mostly men make the journey when they are young. So, when they get older, they start seeking women outside of what they have around them. Usually, in ads posted out east. They are usually looking for a woman who is willing to work hard in fields or farms, though. They don’t get many prospects around these parts if I’m being truthful. Not many women want to leave here to do manual labor,” he said with a chuckle.