Mail Order Brides Western Romance Collection ~ 3-Book Bundle (Brides of Virtue Series 1)

by Jill Maguire

  “Patience, what are you doing?” Warren asked, his tone sharper than he had intended. Patience let go of the pot’s handle and looked at Warren sheepishly. The look on her face made Warren want to laugh, but he kept a straight face. “You need to ask for help. You can’t be lifting things like this.” Warren took the pot into his own hands and lifted it over the fire.

  “Why do you care so much about me and the baby anyway?” Patience was not upset, she seemed honestly curious and Warren regretted that she would even have to question such a thing.

  “You’re carrying my brother’s child. You were my brother’s wife. I care about your well-being. Lifting heavy things and working yourself to the bone isn’t going to do you or the baby any good. I want that baby to be born healthy and strong. That child will have a part of Clayton in him or her. The last -” Warren broke off, his voice thick with emotion. He looked away from Patience and was startled when she reached out and squeezed his hand. She was deeply moved by Warren’s grief and felt some solace in mourning with him.

  “We both loved him so,” Patience said with a tremor in her voice. “I can’t believe my baby will have to grow up without its father.” Patience put her head in her hands and quietly wept. Warren slowly drew her into his arms. She relaxed against his chest and soon her tears were spent. Patience pulled away slightly and looked up into Warren’s face. Warren cleared his throat and dropped his arms.

  “Well, thank you for your help,” Patience said softly, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “I will ask for help next time.”

  “Good.”

  Warren looked out across the expanse of empty land around them, not meeting Patience’s eyes. He turned to check the axle and yoke of their wagon as Patience continued with her dinner preparations. When a slight rumble rolled across the sky, Warren looked to the clouds above. The weather in this expanse of country was unpredictable and it had been known to rain without any warning, rain which was followed swiftly by muggy, penetrating heat. Sensing a storm on the horizon, Warren fastened the canopy over the wagon as tight as he could and hollered for Patience to be aware.

  Just as Warren called out, the heavy rain drops started and Patience hurried to the wagon. Within a minute she was soaked to the skin. As she approached the wagon she saw Warren still making adjustments to the axle. Before she could tell him to escape the weather, the rain started pouring in earnest.

  “Come into the wagon! Warren!” Patience yelled before taking shelter herself. Convinced he hadn’t heard her over the pounding rain on the wagon’s canvas, she yelled again. “We need to get into the wagon!” This time she got Warren’s attention but not the reaction she expected. An inexplicable smile broke out over Warren’s face when he looked up at her.

  “What is it?” she asked, surprised by his smirk.

  “You look like a drowned cat,” Warren hollered in return as he started to laugh. Patience was struck by the way his smile completely changed his face. He had always been handsome, but his smile lit his entire face and brought with it a boyish charm Patience would not have expected. Warren’s sudden laughter and the mud under her feet threw Patience off and she slipped a little. Patience grabbed onto the side of the wagon to steady herself, but couldn’t gain her balance. She slid down until she sat in the mud, her legs splayed out in front of her.

  Warren erupted into a laugh that came from deep within. It was a lovely sight, like a balm to Patience’s soul. She stared at the joy in his face until his infectious mirth drew laughter from her own lips. She sat in the mud, helpless, while the rain poured over them both. Patience couldn’t remember the last time she had been evoked to smile, let alone laugh. Her muscles weren’t used to the sensation. As her girlish giggles died away Patience lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes, feeling the now softening drops pattering on her skin.

  Warren’s laughter also died down and he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. The sight of Patience sitting in the rain with a look of peace he hadn’t seen for some time moved his heart. Something shifted slightly inside Warren and he realized how much of his own grief and tension was on account of Patience’s state of mind. He sighed deeply as he reached down to help Patience to her feet.

  As Warren drew Patience up he held her arms firmly to help steady her. He gazed intensely into her eyes and she wondered what he was thinking about. His closeness confused Patience and made her feel guilty somehow. She turned away from him and walked to the back of the wagon.

  “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes.” Patience looked back at Warren and he dropped his eyes. She shivered violently as she quickly changed in a corner they had separated off in the back of the wagon. When she had dry clothes on once again Patience wrapped herself in the warmest blanket she could find and sat with her legs dangling out the back of the wagon while she waited for the rain to stop. Warren took his turn to change then joined her.

  “I’m sorry,” Warren said as they both stared out at the drenched landscape.

  “For what Warren? I haven’t laughed like that for . . . for too long.”

  “I was afraid I made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “No, you didn’t. I think it’s just difficult to accept that I can have a good time without Clayton. I feel guilty somehow. I never imagined having moments like these without Clayton.” Patience sighed heavily and fought fresh tears. The child inside her moved and Patience laid a hand over her abdomen.

  “I know you must feel that way, but I think Clayton would love to know that you are finding joy in life again. He wouldn’t want you to keep mourning. Especially when you have a new life to care for.”

  Patience was struck dumb by this thoughtful speech. Warren kept surprising her and proving her original assumptions about him to be all wrong. He really was kind and thoughtful. Not the dull, stoic man she had thought him to be. But two glaring details confused Patience.

  “Warren, why have you never been married? And you’ve never been able to hold down a job, I don’t understand.”

  Warren tensed beside he and took a deep breath.

  “Well,” he started. “I suppose it’s because I - I’m illiterate.”

  Warren’s abrupt confession shocked Patience. But that was Warren’s way. Brief, unexpected and straight to the point.

  Chapter 8

  Patience looked over at Warren in frank disbelief. “Pardon,” she asked, hoping she had misheard him.

  “Yes, ma’am. I can’t read or write, and that has made it real hard for me to keep a job.” Warren took a deep breath, “And, I guess I never thought any woman would want me. It’s shameful. A grown man who can’t read? How could I provide for a wife?”

  Patience watched as Warren’s cheeks warmed with color. Then she brightened as an idea struck her.

  “I can teach you!” Patience exclaimed and grabbed Warren’s arm in excitement.

  “What? No Patience, I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, I will. We can work on exercises as the old wagon train plods along. It will give us both something to do.”

  “I don’t know Patience,” Warren couldn’t say why he resisted her offer. Embarrassment? Shame? Probably both he realized.

  “Warren, you need to learn to read and write. Clayton isn’t around anymore for you to rely on so you’re going to need to make your own way. It’s not too late. I can teach you.”

  Warren shook his head and adjusted his dirty brown hat . “If you think it’ll help pass the time, then I guess I’ll be your student.” Warren exhaled slowly. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Patience’s giddy smile and obvious excitement brought his boyish smile out once again.

  “Good, we’ll start tomorrow.” Patience began to slide herself off the wagon as Warren jumped down to assist her. “Now, I really must get back to making supper. All those men will be hungry.”

  Warren watched Patience walk back to the fire circle, a grin plastered onto his face. He caught himself and shook his head, turning the other way.

&
nbsp; “She is quite a woman,” he muttered under his breath.

  Patience salvaged what she could of the sopping wet food and continued to prepare the evening meal. Around the fire that night Patience was newly aware of the ways Warren talked with the other men. He asked many questions about how each man was managing, how a specific wagon fix was holding up, and how the women and children were handling the rough terrain. Patience realized he had immersed himself in this temporary community, offering his skills and friendship. As she watched and listened, she realized her newfound admiration for Warren was growing.

  Patience spent a fitful night in her bed of blankets in the back of the wagon. Warren, she knew, lay just outside the wagon on the ground where he slept every night. In her mind, Patience planned her first several lessons for Warren and a new energy filled her at the thought of teaching again. Her heart felt more alive than it had in many, many months.

  But no sooner had the wave of excitement washed over her, than a stabbing pang of guilt ripped the feelings away. She hadn’t felt this happy since she had been in the presence of her beloved Clayton. His smiling face filled her mind. She wanted to cling to him, and yet she knew Warren had been right. Clayton would have wanted her to move on, find happiness and keep living her life.

  God had given Patience a gift of teaching and now she would be able to use that gift to teach Clayton’s brother. Patience wondered why Clayton had never told her about Warren’s illiteracy. She could have taught him a long time ago and maybe things would have been different for Warren. Patience concluded that Clayton would have wanted to respect his brother’s wish to keep his illiteracy a secret. Waves of grief rolled over Patience at thoughts of Clayton. In desperation she whispered his name into the darkness. Then her whispers became a prayer, beseeching God.

  “I love my husband so much, Lord. I do not want to let him go. But I see that I must. Clayton is safely, happily in your hands now and I know there are things here you want me to do yet, things that I will enjoy, people for me to love. And especially this baby,” Patience choked on her tears and wrapped her arms around her middle. “This baby will be a gift, a piece of Clayton. Oh God, Clayton!” Patience reined in her grief. “I will always love Clayton, always. But Lord, free my heart. Bring me peace. And Warren too.” Patience released a rasping sigh and fell into a quiet sleep.

  Outside, on the ground, Warren forced back silent tears as he listened to the most heartbreakingly honest submission to God he had ever heard.

  The next morning the wagon train set out early after a quick breakfast. Patience was very tired from her lack of sleep and she spoke to no one. Warren watched her carefully as he went about preparing the horses and packing the wagon for the next leg of the trip. He felt his heart soften toward Patience, now fully understanding the weight of the pain she felt.

  Patience dug paper and pencils from her trunk before settling in next to Warren behind the horses. A little ways down the road Patience slid the paper onto her shrinking lap and wrote the letter “A” on it. She held it in front of Warren’s face.

  “This is the letter A,” she said sharply. “And this how you write a lowercase ‘a’.” Patience wrote each of the letters, the word “apple” and a small drawing to help demonstrate.

  “‘Apple’ starts with the letter ‘A.’ See?” Patience held the paper up for Warren again. He glanced at it quickly but then looked away.

  “Nice picture,” Warren said dismissively.

  “Thank you,” Patience replied primly, “all my other students like the pictures.” Patience had never taught an adult how to read before. She wondered if it would be harder, or easier. “Now, can you think of other words that start with ‘A’?”

  Warren didn’t like her condescending tone but refused to tell her so. He knew she was suffering deeply, and he refused to cause her more pain by being a difficult student. She was doing him a favor, and he was excited about the idea of improving his literacy. Warren thought for a bit.

  “Adam? Ash?”

  “Yes, very good!” Patience praised. “Now, you write the letter a few times. Lowercase and uppercase.” Patience passed the paper and pencil to Warren who handed her the reins. “We should be able to get through the first half of the alphabet today,” she explained.

  And practice they did. Over and over, Patience made Warren write new letters, rehearse their sound and draw illegible drawings to support his learning. But before long, Warren handed her the scribbled paper and took back the reins.

  “This is overwhelming, Patience, I can’t take anymore right now.” Patience could sense the frustration barely masked in his tone and tucked the paper away.

  “You’re right, that’s a good place to stop. You did great Warren.” Patience gave Warren a sweet smile that dispelled much of his growing irritation.

  “You’re a very good teacher,” Warren replied as a shy grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “I enjoy it.”

  “Do you think you’ll teach again? I mean, when the baby is grown and in school?”

  “I suppose I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect.” Patience grew quiet as the future, with all its frightening shadows filled her mind. She didn’t like being reminded of Warren’s part in this arrangement, especially since their new friendship was just beginning to bloom.

  Warren attempted to talk to Patience a few times throughout the remainder of the day, but found her terse and pensive. He could only hope that once they reached Whistle Stop she would find it in her heart to forgive him.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning Patience rose early and began her usual breakfast preparations. She collected a few small branches from the edges of a nearby wood and built a small fire. She was soon joined by the only other woman in the wagon train. Warren had told her the woman’s name was Faith.

  “Hello,” Patience greeted the woman, not expecting much of a reply. Faith had proven to be one with few words to offer. To Patience’s delighted surprise, Faith greeted her with a warm smile.

  “How have your travels been?” Patience asked. She knew Faith was traveling with her husband who seemed a kind and attentive enough man, but still Patience wondered what could drive the woman into such a morose state. As she slowly came out of her own acute grief, she grew more curious about the other woman’s story.

  “We’re fairing,” Faith smiled briefly as she sat on a boulder near the fire. “How are things for you and your husband?” Patience’s cheeks burned red and she suddenly felt flustered and frustrated at the assumption that Warren was her husband.

  “He isn’t my husband. He’s my - my late husband’s brother.” Patience dropped her eyes to the simple dough she was preparing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed,” came the quiet reply. Patience sighed deeply. “It just seems that he cares well for you.”

  “He does. We both miss his brother terribly.” Patience’s reply trailed off in a mere whisper. Patience looked up again at Faith who was gazing out toward the distant mountains.

  “The man you are traveling with is your husband, yes?” Patience inquired. She felt that any attempt at decorum was broken with Faith’s assumptions about her and Warren.

  “Yes, he is my husband.” A shadow passed over Faith’s face.

  “And what brings you west?”

  “My husband has always dreamed of moving west, homesteading on uncharted land.” Faith regarded Patience closely as if trying to decide whether or not she should trust her and divulge more. Patience sat beside Faith, having set the dough over the fire, and hoped Faith would take it as an invitation to continue her story. Patience thought that hearing another’s story would be a welcome distraction and was relieved when Faith seemed to accept the unspoken invitation.

  “My husband and I have been trying to have children for some time. Then, a few months ago I did become pregnant. We were overjoyed. I hadn’t seen my husband that happy since we were first married,” Faith chuckled at the memory. “Then after a few months I lost the
child.” Faith drew in a ragged breath.

  “My husband took it just as hard as I did – maybe even harder. He drew away from me and kept to himself. One day he just up and told me we were leaving. We were going west and there was nothing I could say or do to change his mind. Though I tried, you better believe I tried.” Faith’s gaze fell to her hands tucked neatly in her lap. “So I packed all we had and here we are. We left some family behind, but that doesn’t weigh on me. To be honest, I don’t know how much longer I could have stayed in such a desolate place that only caused heartache. When we lost the baby, people were sympathetic at first but then they began to wonder how my grief could last so long. I started to feel like an outsider, like I was being judged. It’s just as well that we left.”

  Patience was stunned into silence for a while. She had sensed a similar spirit of loss from Faith, but had been too caught up in her own sorrow to approach the other woman any sooner. Patience prayed silently for Faith, and for God to give her the right words to say. Her hand covered her swollen abdomen self-consciously and she silently thanked God for giving her a healthy pregnancy thus far.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Faith. I’m glad that you have your husband to care for you during this time. God will bless you with a fresh start in Wyoming, or wherever you are headed.” Patience spoke this blessing over her new friend with confidence. She felt sure of its promise in her heart.

  “I hope you’re right,” Faith smiled ruefully. “How long were you and your husband married?” The question brought fresh pain to Patience, but she wanted to honor her new friend with the truth, since Faith had shared so much with her.

  “We were married for about three years.”

  “Just enough to get real attached,” Faith mused quietly.

  Patience cleared her throat and rose, hoping to cut off the line of conversation. Faith noticed Patience’s amended demeanor and changed the subject.