A Farmer For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 4)

by Marisa Masterson

  Then she admitted the reason for fleeing her home. “I needed to leave my brother’s home as he only saw me as a cook and nanny. I didn’t care to look after someone else’s children.” Her lips clenched in anger as she finished speaking, remembering her brother locking her away that last night.

  He seemed upset by something she said. He stiffened before putting a hand to her lower back and urging her toward his wagon. At his touch, warmth and a pleasant sort of aching filled her from head to toe. She’d been touched so seldom in her life by men. Perhaps that explained the delightful shivers this man created.

  Worry tinged his deep voice as he declared, “I was gonna take you to the farm. You know, for a bath and clean clothes. Think we’d better go ahead with the marrying today rather than on Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

  Waiting, Myra expected him to explain his reasons. After all, she’d worn these clothes for a week. When he didn’t offer an explanation, she opened her mouth to question him.

  A pull on her arm had them walking towards a farm wagon. She’d never ridden in one. Still, she’d agreed to marry a farmer so she shouldn’t have expected to ride in a buggy.

  At least, he had enough manners to help her up into the wagon. After the way he pulled her toward it, she’d had her doubts about that and so was surprised and pleased with his help. Before he climbed up onto the wagon bench, he said, “I’d best collect your trunk. Where’s your luggage ticket?”

  Shaking her head and blushing at her lack of luggage, Myra told him she’d only brought a carpet bag. Though he looked confused at this, he shrugged and didn’t question her further.

  Once he too was in the wagon, they traveled only a short distance to a wood-framed church that sat on the edge of the town. A large evergreen wreath decorated the single door into the building. Myra had never seen a church that didn’t have double doors on its front and tried not to be intimidated by how rustic the town seemed to her.

  With her arm looped through Holder’s, they climbed the three steps up to the door and entered without knocking. Inside, the scent of pine and candle wax surrounded her. The sanctuary was small. Perhaps snug is a better word. She enjoyed the fragrance and the decorations. Some type of evergreen was placed in the front corner of the church. Red bows and small candles trimmed its branches. In the other front corner, a creche with only the holy family and an angel had been given a spot of prominence. Holly leaves and evergreen boughs surround the manger scene on the table where it sat.

  What a nice time of year to marry. I’ve always loved the decorations at Christmas!

  As she took in the church sanctuary and Christmas trimmings, Holder spoke with a balding man who had spectacles perched on the end of his nose. While her groom talked, the man listened quietly and nodded his head, all the while looking at Myra. Finally, the men walked to the Christmas tree where she waited.

  Holding out a hand in greeting, the bespectacled man greeted her warmly. “I’m Pastor Nillson. I am pleased you’ve come to be a wife to this one here.” Laughingly, he gently punched Holder’s arm when he said that last bit. “After all the chil…”

  Holder cut off whatever the preacher had been about to say, echoing Myra’s earlier thoughts. “Perfect time to marry. You got the place already decorated for our wedding.

  The jovial man chuckled, “If I’d known you wanted to marry today, I would have lit the candles on the tree. Don’t suppose you want to wait for me to do that,” he stated with a questioning tone to his voice. Without giving Myra a chance to say how lovely that would be, Holder shook his head.

  Well, he certainly doesn’t seem interested in my opinions. First, the change in the day they would marry and now the candles. These things were rapidly helping her to see how dictatorial her husband would be.

  With the dimness of the church, Myra hadn’t noticed the middle-aged woman cleaning under the back pews. At a call from the pastor, she popped up and hurried to join them. The preacher introduced his wife to Myra and mentioned that Miss McKinley had acted as the matchmaker for Mrs. Nillson’s sister.

  Before Myra could respond, Holder interrupted, asking the lady to serve as a witness for them. At the woman’s agreement, Pastor Nillson immediately began a very abbreviated wedding serve, telling Holder to take her hand and marrying them in front of the Christmas tree.

  Thanking Mrs. Nillson, Holder handed some money to the pastor and wished them both a good day. Before Myra could utter more than a hurried goodbye, he once again pulled her behind him. She wondered if he was nervous because they’d just met or if he would always pull and never ask.

  Back in the wagon, Holder headed the horses north. She’d hoped they would at least drive through Idyll Wood so she could see the shops and know what would be available to her in town. He didn’t seem interested in giving her a tour, never asking if she needed anything while they were this close to town.

  As they moved through the dark of the winter evening, Myra felt homesick. The feeling surprised her since she fled her home and her controlling brother. Probably Holder’s silence and the fear from the control he’d shown contributed to her mood. Also, she worried about spending the night with her husband. She’d never experienced this many new things so closely together.

  Deciding a conversation might help her growing fear and sadness, Myra began to explain her lack of luggage. “I know you were surprised when I didn’t have a trunk.”

  By the dim lantern that hung from a post near the front of the wagon, she saw Holder look her way. Rather than respond, he grunted. She supposed that meant he wanted her to continue her explanation. “You see, my brother locked me into my room after learning that I planned to marry you.”

  Evidently this was sufficiently startling that he did respond. “How did you get out of there then? Didn’t he try to stop you from boarding the train?”

  She giggled as she thought back to her adventure. “I climbed down the tree outside my bedroom. I’d never climbed a tree before so it was quite scary.”

  After a moment, Holder prompted, “But what about getting on the train?” With amazement in his voice, he continued. “Why didn’t he stop you at the station?”

  For the next ten minutes or so, she told him about her family friend, Miss Mc Kinley. “So, after Father’s funeral,” she concluded, “the woman invited me to be a mail-order bride. That’s how I ended up boarding a train in disguise.”

  In the darkness, Holder’s sudden shout of laughter startled Myra. She’d had a glimpse of his sense of humor in the church. Now that he sat beside her laughing at her adventure, she felt better about marrying this stranger. Perhaps their life together would be more than him ordering her about and pulling her where he wanted her to go.

  “Well, I can see I’ve got a wife with some gumption,” he chuckled after his laughter died down. “You might need it, living with a German man.”

  “Is a German different than any other man?” she wondered aloud.

  He snorted at that and challenged, “After a week or two, you tell me.”

  The horses pulled the wagon up a hill and suddenly lights from a house came into view. “Are we at your home?” she asked. Excitement at seeing her new home had Myra almost bouncing on the seat.

  Her husband gave a deep, “Yeah,” but didn’t elaborate. He confused her by driving past the house and continuing toward what seemed to be farm buildings. After they passed a white-washed barn, the dark shape of a cabin came into view.

  Stopping the wagon, Holder jumped from the wagon and soon had his wife in his arms. “This is home,” he stated as he carried her through the door and into the one-room cabin. His romantic gesture of sweeping her up and carrying her over the threshold of their home pleased her. His touch had been gentle, but she could feel his controlled strength as he held her close. Before lowering her to the ground, he placed his lips tenderly on hers. Warmth flooded her at the touch.

  When he lifted his head, he allowed her feet to slip to the floor. “Didn’t want our first kiss to be in front of t
he pastor. So now we’ve sealed our marriage bargain with a kiss.” Satisfaction filled his voice.

  Holder stepped away from her and moved out of the still-open door. Quickly he returned carrying the lantern from the wagon and set her carpetbag down before leaving to take the team to the barn. By the light, Myra was able to look around her new home.

  The cabin was small, probably no more than sixteen feet long. A brown and red flowered curtain, standing opened, had been hung diagonally across one corner. Behind it, she glimpsed a double bed covered by a log cabin quilt. Above the bed, a loft had been built that stretched for about half of the room. Against one wall, a ladder stood ready for someone to climb into the loft. Myra moved to it and used it to peek up there. Oddly, she saw a cradle and two small beds. She wondered why a bachelor would need children’s beds.

  Backing her way down the ladder with her skirts in one hand, she forgot about the beds in the loft and investigated the kitchen cupboards. He had very few staples. Obviously, he must eat at his mother’s home, the house they’d passed. Feeling the warmth from the stove, she opened the oven door and found a potato dish baking inside. What a nice surprise not to have to make supper for them!

  Throughout the meal, Holder answered questions she had about his farm as well as about his family. He explained about his mother’s illness. Having nursed both of her parents, Myra easily identified with the sorrow he barely disguised as he spoke about Jennie’s steady decline. Then he explained about Carl’s mental impairment after the severe beating. “No one’s been arrested, though our brother tried to find out who did it. Carl works around the place good enough, when I can keep him home.”

  This brought a question to her mind. “Why would your brother try to find who did it? Why isn’t your sheriff involved?”

  “Fred’s the sheriff. Since he doesn’t like farming, he found work as a deputy. The sheriff was a bad one. He got killed while abducting a couple local women. Fred’s got the man’s job now.” She suspected there was much more to the story than what he told her, but Myra didn’t push for details. She had enough already to absorb after learning about his family.

  “If Fred, Carl, and your mother live in the main house, why do you live here?” After all, Holder was a bachelor too, wasn’t he?

  His face wore a closed expression. When he didn’t answer, she wanted to ask again, somehow rephrasing her question. She remembered the many times her father had refused to answer her mother. That lady never asked again and had cautioned her daughter against nagging, saying, “No man will respond well to nagging or berating.” With that in mind, Myra allowed the remainder of the meal to pass in silence.

  Finished with washing the dishes, Myra moved to the bed and pulled the curtain shut. Using warm water from the reservoir on the stove, she sponged her body and dreamed of sinking into the bathtub at her childhood home. Brushing cinders and dust from her hair, she decided that washing it would have to wait until tomorrow.

  Wearing her nightdress and wrapper, she pulled the curtain open again and was surprised to come face to face with Holder who waited on the other side of it. Swallowing a small gasp, she offered, “You can change into your nightshirt now. I’m finished.”

  He laughingly teased, “Will it shock you when I don’t wear anything to bed?”

  Yes, it did shock her and she couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Staring dumbly at him, Myra allowed him to pull her against his chest. His mouth lowered as his eyes kept her mesmerized.

  Just as she felt the delightful pressure of lips on her own, the door of the cabin flew open with a bang. The embracing couple jumped apart and looked at the intruder. In the doorway, a short, dark-haired man held a little girl’s hand and cradled a toddler in his arms. From behind him, an older girl stepped into the room carrying another toddler. Looking between the small children, Myra realized they were twins.

  The man whined, “Holder, I’m tired of your babies. They cry and keep me awake. Ma says for your new wife to take them tonight.”

  Holder stiffened beside her but didn’t look at Myra. “You sure Ma said that. I think it sounds like your idea, Carl.” Then he addressed the oldest girl. “Johanna, did grandma send you here?”

  The girl shook her head. “No, but the babies and Berta cry a lot. I gotta take care of Grandma. Please, keep ‘em here, Pa.”

  Myra watched her husband’s face take on a stormy expression so she stepped in. “Hello, Johanna. I’m Myra. Let me help you with your sister.”

  She took the small toddler from the girl’s arms. “I’m surprised that she lets a stranger hold her without crying.”

  Johanna smiled, “That’s because I told her you were coming. She knows you’re our new ma.”

  The other toddler pushed against Carl’s chest, wanting to get down. He happily lowered her and dropped the hand of the other girl. Without waiting for his brother to say anything else, Carl ran from the cabin, giggling maniacally.

  Pulling her husband into the conversation, Myra prompted, “Tell me about your children. You forgot to mention them.” She felt proud at how well she kept the sarcasm out of her voice.

  Her husband ignored the toddler that clung to his pantleg and lifted the other girl into his arms. “This beauty is Berta. She’s six-years-old and loves helping in the barn.” Stroking the girl’s blonde hair, he leaned his head down and kissed the girl’s forehead. His daughter cuddled into his chest, revealing their closeness.

  Holder moved to the oldest girl and put an arm around her shoulders. “This lovely one is Johanna, as you already know. She’s almost ten. My mother relies on her.”

  The girl smiled up into her father’s face. He obviously loved his girls.

  Myra waited, but Holder ignored the littlest children. “What about the twins?” Myra queried, hoping the feeling she was getting wouldn’t be true. When he didn’t answer her, she realized that he refused to acknowledge the toddlers.

  Johanna spoke quietly, “The twins are one-year-old now. Both are drinking from cups and walking.” Obviously, Johanna had mothered these babies.

  Myra could see why Holder needed a wife, but why hadn’t he mentioned his children?

  Sitting in a kitchen chair, Myra placed the girl she held on one knee. “Please bring the other twin to me,” she told Johanna. When the girl did that, Myra indicated for her to put her on the other knee. As the twins faced each other, they giggled and reached for each other’s hands. Myra found the gesture endearing.

  “Johanna, what are their names?” Her gaze left the toddlers long enough to look at her oldest step-daughter.

  With pain in her voice, the girl did her best to answer. “Ma was too weak after the birthing to care about names for them. I call them Darling and Dearie.”

  At those names, both girls looked to their sister. Myra felt sad that they recognized those as their names. As their mother, she decided to change that. “Well, let’s do something about that right now.”

  When Holder stayed silent, she continued. “Who is Darling?”

  Johanna put a hand on the back of the twin who perched on Myra’s left knee. Their new mother put a hand to that child’s head and pronounced with a formal tone, “I christen you Darlene Darling Sittig. And you,” placing her right hand on the other twin’s head, “are christened Dora Dearie Sittig.”

  From Holder’s arms, Berta giggled and clapped. Johanna’s face showed delight as she crowed, “Those names are perfect!”

  Myra felt pleased that the sisters easily accepted the names. “Now we’ll just need to remember to use them so the twins learn their names.” She looked between the twins and found what she needed. Dora had a small mark next to her left eyebrow, probably a scar from a fall while she learned to walk. At least Myra would have a way to tell them apart.

  After that, and without much help from Holder, she put the girls to bed. The girls arrived already dressed for bed under their coats, and their step-mother sent them, including Johanna who usually slept with her grandmother, up to the loft.
Fearing the toddlers could fall too easily from there, she used extra quilts to make up a bed for them under the table. That seemed the safest place to keep them from being stepped on during the night.

  With the four girls tucked into their beds, Holder took Myra’s arm and moved toward their bed. He pulled the curtain and whispered with fury in his tone, “You should have let me send them back with Carl. This is our wedding night!”

  Having kept her temper reined in, Myra felt the wall surrounding her emotions now break. “And you should have written that you have children. I didn’t want a ready-made family.”

  “A wife doesn’t tell her husband what to do!” he hissed.

  Without missing a beat, Myra met his gaze and proclaimed, “This one does, when her husband is wrong.”

  In response, Holder growled, “Woman!” A cry from one of the babies cut off any other response he might have made. Yanking open the curtain, her husband jammed his arms into his coat. “I’m staying at Ma’s tonight!”

  Chapter 3

  Gentle touches to her face woke Myra the next morning. Sunshine streamed in through the lone window of the cabin, allowing her to see the two sweet faces that belonged to the hands patting her face. After their father had stormed out last night, Myra had carried the girls to the bed and slept with one under each of her arms.

  All four girls had seemed sweet. Not like her nieces and nephews, who lived to cause her problems. Perhaps this ready-made family wouldn’t be terrible after all.

  The twins smiled at her before babbling in unison, as if they had a language only the two of them knew. Hugging each girl, she greeted them happily. Sitting up, she heard Johanna call, “Mother,” from the direction of the loft. The night before Myra had moved the ladder so the twins wouldn’t be tempted to climb into the loft. Now, she hurried to return it to its spot.

  Both girls scampered down and raced to put on boots and coats. Then they flew out the door. Myra realized, from their hurry, that there must not be a chamber pot in the loft.