Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set

by Jillian Hart

“Me, neither,” Eleanor said and gave the girl a quick hug.

  “Now go get dressed,” Adam said. “We have a lot to do today to get ready.”

  Hannah nodded as she turned and limped into the back room.

  The room seemed peaceful when it was just her and Adam, she thought as she turned to him. “She’s a delightful child.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t realize my mother kept her so restricted, though.”

  “Your mother, she—” Eleanor said, not really knowing what she was going to say.

  “Leave my mother to me,” Adam said, his voice firm enough that she knew he wasn’t willing to talk about it any longer. “She’ll come around.”

  Eleanor nodded even though she knew it wasn’t that simple. His mother didn’t want her here and that wasn’t likely to change. Seeing the tense look on Adam’s face made her realize that he loved his mother despite his frustration with her. Eleanor didn’t believe in splitting up families. Her parents had suffered enough with being rejected by her mother’s family for her to be the one to cause strain in anyone’s family.

  She waited for a moment, unsure how to ask what she needed to know.

  “Those letters you received,” she finally asked. “The ones that answered your advertisement. Do you still have them?”

  Adam frowned. “I think my mother does.”

  Eleanor nodded. It would be all right, then. His mother could just send for someone to replace her. She had enough money in her valise to pay her way back home to Nantucket. After Christmas, she would go. Maybe the Stouts would speak to one of their neighbors. She wasn’t sure she’d have the heart to stay in this territory without Adam and his daughter.

  Chapter Five

  The wind had died down, but Eleanor could see by looking out the partially frosted window that the snow continued to fall steadily. It was mid-morning. After Jake’s visit, they had eaten a silent breakfast of leftover beans and then Adam had gone outside to water the animals and finish unloading the wagon.

  Eleanor was glad to be alone. She had slipped into the back room to get her valise while the others were eating. Now Mrs. Martin and Hannah were in the back room and she figured they were napping since the older woman had insisted Eleanor keep the kitten out while they slept. No one had said anything about the beans; they’d just sat down and eaten what she had served.

  After everyone left the table, Eleanor took her valise and carefully set it beside the Christmas tree. She felt better when she had her mother’s opera gloves and her father’s telescope nearby.

  Until now, she’d never felt poor when she had those things with her. It stiffened her resolve to know Adam’s mother would think neither one of them were worth packing across the country. But what did the woman know of life?

  The opera gloves were old, Eleanor had to admit. She used to be able to smell her mother’s lavender perfume when she held those gloves in her hands, even if lately when she brought them out there had been no odor. The seams had become stretched over the years and the cloth was yellowed. Eleanor still liked to hold them as she remembered the stories her parents told of the past. Her mother had worn the gloves before she met Eleanor’s father, in the days when she was a carefree young woman who went to balls and concerts in Boston and New York. Those stories had become like dreams for Eleanor.

  As for the telescope, it wasn’t that old, but it was handmade so it would not be important in Mrs. Martin’s estimation, either. Her father often told of how he’d searched for the finest piece of walnut he could find for the casing. Then he’d carved it to the shape he needed and polished it every evening for months. He’d saved a full year before sending away for the magnifying pieces he needed. Then he’d put everything together in the gardening shed of her mother’s old home. The first star he’d seen, he never tired of telling her, had been the one that shone down on the rose garden where he’d first kissed her mother.

  She wondered what her parents would think of the situation she was in now. They’d both been such romantics; they probably would have understood the impulse that had led her to this place in the Montana territory. Now that she knew the troubles in this small family, though, she suspected they would agree that she should leave after Christmas.

  She stood there for a minute until the kitten came up and rubbed against her ankles. She bent down to pick it up.

  “It’s just you and me again, my friend,” she whispered to the animal as she carried it over to the stool and sat down with it in her lap. She would need to write her friend from the train, Felicity Sawyer, and let her know things hadn’t come to pass as she had thought they would on the banks of Dry Creek. When they went into Miles City, she would have to go to the mercantile and ask if a letter had come from Felicity.

  Eleanor sat there, listening to the kitten’s purr and feeling the warmth of the fire. She had not felt so alone even after her father died. The tears in Hannah’s eyes earlier today made her remember the times she’d caught her mother crying. It was no small thing to be torn from the only family a girl or a young woman knew. Eleanor had always suspected that her mother had not believed her parents would so thoroughly disown her when she chose to marry a gardener.

  Families should be forever, Eleanor thought. Regardless of who married who.

  The temperature dropped as she sat on the stool, petting the kitten, and wondering when she should leave. Finally Eleanor got up and put more wood on the fire. There was certainly no way she could go anywhere today. And she had promised Hannah a good Christmas tomorrow.

  But before she worried about the holiday, Eleanor needed to put some more beans on the back of the stove so they would have something to eat tonight. She’d left the cloth bag that held the beans on the shelf near the table and she walked over and reached up to take it down.

  As she stepped to the stove, she looked at the water bucket she kept next to the wood box. It was close to the cook stove so that it wouldn’t freeze over, not even at night, but it was almost empty after all of the rose hip tea she’d made this morning.

  She knew people sometimes melted snow for their drinking water, but she felt better getting it from the creek. She took one last look out the window. The snow seemed to be slowing. At least she could see farther than she had been able to earlier. She should be able to go down to the creek and find her way back easily.

  She might think more clearly after she’d had a brisk walk, anyway. Eleanor brought her wool scarf out of her valise and was wrapping it around her ears when the door opened and Adam stepped inside.

  “I had some green coffee in my saddle bags.” Adam walked over to the table and set a small leather pouch down. “Its army issue, but I expect the Hargroves are used to it. Most folks hereabouts are.”

  She stopped winding her scarf around her neck and stared at him. “I’ve never heard of green coffee.”

  He nodded and snowflakes fell off his hair. “It keeps longer than the roasted beans so it’s what we take on patrol. Cheaper, too, since it’s not dried the same. I even have some hardtack left. And, of course, your tea will be welcome. The Hargroves won’t expect much.”

  “But they should expect something,” Eleanor protested. Then—just like that—she had an idea. “I can do better.”

  She wasn’t sure there were any fish left in the creek, but she was going to find out just as soon as she could slip away from the cabin.

  “I know we’d like it to be better,” Adam said patiently. “But they understand that I just got here and we haven’t had time to set up our home yet. They’ll be grateful for a plate of beans if it’s served in friendship.”

  His response was so different from his mother’s that Eleanor looked at him for any trace of censure in his eyes. She didn’t see any, but she wasn’t sure why he was being so kind about all of this. “You told me to get your house ready for Christmas. That’s tomorrow. Most men would be upset that I haven’t done what they had asked.”

  She turned around and looked, expecting him to follow her gaze. Enough ligh
t was coming in the window for him to see everything. She had meant to sew some of her flannel into a wall covering for the worst of the gray logs on the south side of the cabin, but she hadn’t. She didn’t know what had happened to make them look so bad.

  “You won’t find me being upset about that,” Adam said, his voice pinched. “I’m the one who left this place the way it was.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Besides, everything’s clean in here and you put up a tree,” Adam said. “That should be good enough for anyone.”

  “I did knit some stars for it.” Eleanor looked over at the small pine and wondered if anyone would even know what those yellow patches were. They seemed to be more twisted every day.

  “Those stars are quite nice,” Adam said, but she noticed he wasn’t looking at her eyes when he said it.

  “You don’t need to spare my feelings.” She squared her shoulders. “I told you I’m not very good at knitting. The points won’t stay the way they should. But not many women are better or quicker than me when it comes to weaving on a loom.”

  “Well, see there,” Adam said, his voice sounding relieved. “That’s good.”

  “Not that I have a loom here,” she reminded him. “Or any sheep for wool, either, so why would I need one?”

  The challenge his mother had laid down was between the two of them, Eleanor thought as she looked at the rest of the cabin. She might have decided to leave, but that didn’t mean she wanted to retreat because someone thought she couldn’t do a good enough job. It wasn’t the first time that Eleanor had needed to prove she was competent. Every time a new herder had come to the Nantucket area, she would have to demonstrate that she could take care of her sheep. Even though she worked for her father, the others wanted her to prove her worth as if she was an outsider.

  She’d faced up to those herders. She could do the same with Mrs. Martin.

  “I’m going down to the creek,” she announced, as she finished looping the scarf around her head.

  “It’s still cold. I’ll go for you,” Adam said as he walked over to the water bucket.

  Eleanor turned to her valise. “I just need to get some thread before I go. And we’ll need the ax from the shelter.”

  “I already used it to cut open a space in the creek when I brought water up for the horses. I was going to go down and get another bucket filled for the house, anyway.”

  “We’ll need that long stick that’s leaning against the wall back by the hay, too,” Eleanor said as she walked over and pulled the blanket off the peg by the door. “I’m going to catch us some fish.”

  “Fish? But I don’t think—” Adam started to say, but she was already opening the door.

  “I’ll meet you down there,” Eleanor said as she bent into the wind. “I need to see if I can find some wild onions, too. Christmas dinner should be the best we have, after all.”

  Adam did what he was told. He gathered the bucket and went behind the house to the shelter to get the stick. Eleanor had slipped the thread into her pocket before she left the cabin. The freezing air outside cheered him up or maybe it was the determined way Eleanor had walked out the door and faced the wind that made him feel hopeful for the years ahead. She wasn’t a timid flower like his Catherine had been.

  He just hoped Eleanor wouldn’t be too disappointed when she didn’t find anything in the creek. Some of the soldiers at the fort were fond of fishing on their days off, but he had never heard any of them boast about catching anything in these shallow creeks around here, at least not when it was this cold outside.

  He smiled slightly, for some reason remembering that Jesus had multiplied the loaves and the fishes. With Eleanor’s faith, he wasn’t going to bet against her.

  He kept walking until he topped the small rise and saw Eleanor on the banks of Dry Creek. She had squatted down, holding the blanket around her until he couldn’t see anything of her but the top of her copper-colored head.

  “Are you warm enough?” Adam asked when he got close.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, but her teeth were chattering so much he knew it wasn’t completely true. “Keep your voice down and give me the pole. You’ll scare the fish.”

  “Okay,” he said quietly as he sat down on the cold ground and handed her the stick she wanted. His army coat was long and heavy so he slid close enough that he could open his coat to the side and let her settle into the warmth under his arm.

  She was like ice when she leaned against him. Of course, that might be because her blanket had snow on it. Still, he sat quietly and let his body temperature adjust. Before long, he felt her shivering stop.

  “It’s all right if you don’t catch anything,” he said after a bit. “I saw those potatoes in the shelter. We could boil them for dinner tomorrow.”

  “Shhhhh,” she scolded him.

  He smiled. A few strands of her glorious hair were blowing against his face. He was content.

  * * *

  The time passed and Eleanor knew she would have been forced to give up on catching anything if it weren’t for the steady warm feeling of being close to Adam. She wasn’t so sure it was right to let his arms encircle her when she wasn’t going to stay here and marry him, but she didn’t say anything. A lifetime stretched ahead of her and she suspected embraces like this would be rare when she left this place.

  Still, she should tell him her decision.

  Just then she felt a tug on the pole she held and bent forward in her excitement.

  “I’ll be,” Adam said in surprise as he scrambled to his feet. “Do you need me to help pull him in?”

  “Please.” A glimpse through the ice showed her that the trout was larger than the other ones she’d caught here earlier and she couldn’t get to her feet when the blanket was wrapped around her. She would have a hard time without help.

  Adam was able to lift the fish through the hole in the ice and he laid it on the snow next to her.

  “My father always said that once you catch one trout, there’s another one around,” Eleanor said as she removed the hook from the fish.

  “My mother always said lightning never strikes in the same place twice,” Adam said with a grin as he sat back down beside her.

  “Well, we’ll just see who’s right,” Eleanor said as she put more bait on the hook and let it fall back into the freezing water.

  Within the next hour, she had caught four more trout, all of them large.

  “I guess your father wins,” Adam said as he took the fish to string them together so they could be carried back to the cabin. “Five big ones. This is going to be some Christmas feast. You did it.”

  Eleanor shifted the blanket up to her shoulders as she stood up and turned to face Adam. His eyes were shining with so much approval that it made her feel shy.

  “I prayed on my way down here,” she confessed. “So it wasn’t really me getting the fish.”

  “I figured as much,” Adam said as he turned away and looped the string of fish around the end of the pole. “I’d say God makes a better fishing partner than most people.”

  “At least He knows to keep His voice down,” Eleanor said, grinning up at him.

  He laughed. “I guess that’s true. Shall we head back?”

  “I need to find some more wild onions down here, too,” Eleanor said as she pointed to a snow-covered place along the river bank. “I found some over there last week.”

  Together they went over and scraped the snow away. The stalks were dead, but when she knelt down and pulled the plants up there were small onions on the bottoms.

  “We can roast these by the fire with the fish,” Eleanor said as looked over at Adam. He had knelt down beside the plants, too. Together they had gathered a couple of dozen onions and she couldn’t see any more stalks. “My father used to roast them with a little bacon.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Adam said as he stood up and brushed the snow off his knees.

  Then he held out his hand to help her up and Eleanor took it. She
had the onions wrapped in a corner of her blanket so she rose awkwardly and almost dropped them before she stood straight.

  “Here,” Adam said as he steadied her with one hand and tied a knot around the onions with the other using a corner of her blanket.

  “Thank you.”

  She had to hold the corner of the blanket, but she still managed to look up at him. The clouds had cleared since they had started fishing and the sunlight fell bright around his head, almost making her squint. Maybe it was some stray snowflakes that made him shine so brightly, she thought. But what accounted for the warmth in his blue eyes?

  “As it turns out you’re even prettier in sunshine than you are in moonlight,” Adam said softly.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that he was courting her. She’d passed off his nonsense of last night as the effects of being tired. But she’d never had a beau before.

  She knew what she should say, but she didn’t have the nerve. Not when he was looking at her as if she was rare and fragile and—

  The kiss surprised her even though she had known it was coming. His lips were more insistent than last night, though, and she felt her breath quicken in her throat. When he did raise his head, he still held her close enough that she could hear the beating of his heart.

  “The onions,” Eleanor whispered as the knot in the blanket loosened and they all fell to the snowy ground.

  “I’ll get them,” Adam said as she started to bend down to pick them up.

  She let him gather them.

  It wasn’t until he stepped close again so that he could tie another knot in the blanket that she found enough bravery to say the words he deserved to hear.

  “I’m not staying,” she said, not able to look him in the eyes. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the top brass button on his coat. She had never realized how shiny all those buttons were. She waited for him to say something in return, but when he didn’t she raised her eyes to his.

  “You should go back to the house,” he said indulgently. “Haven’t I been telling you that all the time we’ve been down here? Well, all the times you would let me speak and weren’t worried about me scaring away the trout.”