Mail Order Beau

by Maya Stirling

Martha turned and surveyed the ranch and everything around it. She could see that there was a lot of improvements being done to some of the outbuildings and fencing. She imagined there must a huge amount of work involved for Logan in taking over a ranch and making it the way he wanted. The impression was growing that he was a man who knew exactly how he wanted things to be.

  Logan smiled at her. "There's work to be done," he said.

  "I can see that. Where is everybody?" she asked.

  "They've all been given the night off."

  Martha felt a fluttering of nerves. They were alone!

  "What about Mrs. Proudie?"

  "She has a little cabin of her own."

  Martha thought for a moment about the coming night. It was obviously her wedding night, and she fully understood what that signified. A mass of sensations tumbled inside her when she considered what that meant.

  "I don't have my things with me here yet," she said, realizing just how unprepared she really was.

  Logan smiled and went to the carriage. He drew back a cover from the rear of the carriage and lifted out a small suitcase. "Your sister, Cassie, thought it would be good idea to give me this," he said. "Said you had enough to think of getting married."

  Logan carried the suitcase over to the front door of the ranch and placed it down on the porch. He turned to her and extended a hand. "May I?"

  "What?"

  "May I have the pleasure of carrying my bride over the threshold of her new home," he declared, a tinge of pride in his voice.

  Her new home! She liked how that sounded. Logan's eyes were bright, and she could see the color change on his face as he looked at her. This obviously meant so much to him.

  Martha nodded and Logan pushed the door open, turned and lifted her right off her feet. The sensation of being swept up in is arms was exhilarating for a brief moment. Logan had no problem supporting her weight. Her wedding dress flowed over his arms with a soft rustle. His arm was tight across her back, and his face pressed close to her. She could smell the cologne that he wore and she found herself leaning against his shoulder. The gesture brought a smile to his face.

  Then he stepped forward and carried her over the threshold and into the hallway. For a moment he stood with her and surveyed the interior of the house. Logan looked deeply into her eyes.

  "Welcome to our home Mrs. Crawford," he said.

  Martha looked around, trying to accept the idea that this was her home. That notion would take some getting used to.

  Suddenly Logan leaned down and kissed Martha. It was a kiss that tested her, and asked questions. His lips were soft and warm. They tasted sweet. Martha gave in to the moment, and savored the attention he was giving her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the delicate movements of his lips. As she reciprocated and kissed him she felt a tightness on his grip. She suddenly realized he was still holding her.

  She drew her head back. "If you hold me any longer you're going to hurt your back," she said, trying to bring some levity to the moment.

  Logan seemed momentarily disappointed, but then he placed her down gently. Martha straightened the creases out of her wedding dress and composed herself as best she could.

  Logan showed her around the rooms on the ground floor of the house. The way he did it, she could tell he was proud of what he owned. Martha was fascinated as she followed him around, and her mind was already considering the changes that needed to be made to decor and furnishings.

  Mrs. Proudie had laid out a modest little spread of food for them in case they were hungry, but the last thing Martha wanted was to eat anything. She was enjoying sharing Logan's enthusiasm for their home. She knew it would take a long time to get used to that idea.

  Their home.

  However, she would have to make the effort. Their happiness as a couple depended upon her feeling at home in this new place.

  Martha realized that Logan hadn't shown her the bedroom yet. When he asked her if she wanted to go for a walk in the fresh evening air, she knew he wasn't about to. She wondered if he had a surprise up his sleeve. He had already shown what he was capable of in the way that he had managed their reunion. She pushed thoughts of the marital bed from her mind for the moment.

  They made their way to the parlor.

  "Follow me," Logan said. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. Martha looked at him and curled her fingers around his in acceptance.

  They walked out a door at the rear of the parlor. There was a flat terrace at the back which faced on to a beautiful grove of modestly sized trees. They filled a large part of an extensive garden which had a colorful variety of flowers planted in rows. She wondered who tended the flowers, and assumed it must be Mrs. Proudie.

  Over to the right, further up the incline, Martha saw a small cabin. Logan saw her looking at it. "That's where Mrs. Proudie lives," he said, pointing to the cabin.

  The trees created a cool space of shade. Logan led Martha by the hand. They walked away from the house and were soon beneath the covering of trees. The branches whispered as the cool breeze passed through the grove. The light was soft under the trees.

  Martha bent down to avoid some overhanging branches. Logan pushed them aside as the made their way deeper into the cool center of the garden.

  "This is so beautiful," Martha said.

  Logan smiled. "This is where I come to relax if the day has been a hard one." They moved around the side of particularly large tree, and she stopped in surprise at what she saw..

  Martha gasped quietly. It was a small bench, ornately carved out of dark wood. She recognized it immediately, and the awareness that it was here, in this garden, out here, so far from where she had seen it last, astonished her. It was the bench from Logan's garden back East; the very one they had sat on so many times during their courting.

  Their hands parted as Martha went over to the bench and touched it, just to make sure it was real.

  "How did you get this here?" she asked him.

  "I had it shipped out to Colorado when I first came out," he answered.

  She looked back at Logan. "Why?"

  He came to her, and placed a hand around her waist. "It reminds me of all the days and nights we spent sitting on it in my father's garden."

  Martha felt emotion well up in her. She leaned over to see the back of the seat. It was there! The carved letters were still there. One word had been left with a fine, thin trace, dug deep into the wood. She ran her finger along the line of the word which had been left there so long ago.

  "Forever"

  Martha was almost fearful at the prospect of sitting down on the bench. After all these years she wasn't sure how she'd feel sitting in the place where she, and Logan had fostered their affection, and where they had made so many plans.

  The light of the grove was soft and the branches above their head cast thin, dancing shadows across the bench.

  Logan sat down on the bench and rested a hand on the wooden seat, not saying a word. He looked at Martha questioningly.

  "I know this has been a lot for you to take in, Martha. Let's sit here a while. And talk a little."

  Martha took a deep breath and sat down next to Logan. It felt so strange to be sitting next to him on the bench. The last time they had done so, things had been so different. Then, they had been courting; now, they were man and wife. She felt her brows furrow with the confusion she felt.

  Martha looked up at the overhanging branches, enjoying the cool air and the muted light. It had been such a frantic day it was good to be here, with Logan, in this quiet place. Logan was silent for a while. Martha realized he was giving her time to get used to the surprise of the bench. He was letting her have time to adjust. She would need plenty of that. There was a whole lot to adjust to, and she wasn't sure how long it would take her to make the changes.

  After a while she heard Logan's voice. The question he asked was simple, but obvious. "Why did you marry me, Martha?" he asked quietly, as if it were the most casual question he could ask.

  Martha
was momentarily taken aback. She gave him the only answer she could think of. "I did it because I chose to, Logan. I want to be with you."

  His eyes fixed on her and she could see the pleasure that her words had given him, written on his face.

  "You do?" he asked.

  "I do. I've already said those words. At the church. Remember?" she said lightly.

  He smiled and lowered his head. "Of course you did," he replied, perhaps realizing she might be playing with him.

  Logan leaned back on the bench. Martha couldn't help noticing the tightness of his jacket. His chest was broader than she had thought, and the muscles on his arms were tight and firm. She hadn't realized just how fit Logan was. When she had known him back East he'd had the physique of a young Eastern man used to the good things of life, being provided for with little effort on his part. She recalled the few brief moments when they had been left almost alone, but still in view of the chaperone. He had seemed softer and more heavy set than he was now. His figure was lean and wiry now. It was not altogether unappealing, she thought to herself.

  Martha pushed her mind to other matters. Logan appeared a little tense, even nervous. Martha supposed the things he wanted to say to her had been burning in his mind for a very long time. Now that they were once more on the seat together it was inevitable that memories would come flooding back.

  Logan cleared his throat. "Are you ever going to be able to forgive me for what I did, Martha?"

  There. He had asked that question; the one she had hoped he would keep to some other time. She decided to give him at least some kind of answer, even if it wasn't exactly the kind of response she really wanted to give in this place, at this moment.

  "If only you had told me why you left me like you did, Logan. It would have made things so much easier for me to accept. I couldn't understand. I'm not sure I understand it even now."

  A pained expression clouded Logan's face. He leaned closer to her and she could see the earnest expression in his eyes. "I'm asking for your forgiveness Martha. I know that I did wrong and I want to put things right between us."

  Martha looked away. It had been an admission, and a request, all in one. Logan spoke again. His voice was small and quiet. "I came out here to get away from the place that stopped us being together. I wanted a new start. I made it on my own out here. And now we have a chance to make a new start. Together."

  Martha pursed her lips and found that her voice had frozen inside her. He had asked for her forgiveness! What could she say? Could it be that easy to forgive, after all she had been through? She didn't know the answer to that.

  Logan saw her hesitation and spoke bluntly: "I think you are running away from me."

  Martha was startled at the boldness of the statement. "What on earth do you mean? I just married you. How can I be running away from you?" She tried to contain the emotion in her voice, but failed miserably.

  "I think we both know what I am talking about. I remember how we felt about each other, back East. It's fixed in my mind. I have dreamed about it at nights, and thought about it during the long days. I worked myself to the bone, building my Colorado ranch in order to have another chance."

  "I am not running away from you, Logan. That's just not how it is. I want to be your wife. Isn't that enough?"

  "No, Martha. It isn't enough."

  Logan looked at her. "Your idea of being just a wife to me isn't enough. Not for me. Marrying you isn't enough."

  Martha was surprised by his choice of words. "But I am your wife. You already have what you want."

  "I guess you're right," Logan said, nodding. "I sought you out; I found you; I married you. In that sense I have what I want. To some extent." He paused and she heard him take in a slow, deep breath. "I want more; I want your heart; I want your forgiveness." He gazed into her eyes with that now familiar ardor. "I want your love."

  Martha felt her lower lip drop. Her heart thudded, and there was a tumbling of emotion deep inside her.

  "Oh Logan. I'm not sure. I don't know what to say."

  Perhaps sensing that he had gone too far, Logan quickly corrected himself. "Don't say anything, if you don't want to. The last thing I want to cause you on our wedding day is any distress. I'm sorry if I've done that."

  Logan looked away, his fists tightening. She felt deeply for him in that moment, and reached over, placing her hand over his curling fingers.

  "You don't need to apologize, Logan. You haven't really upset me. It's just that everything has happened so fast. It's going to take me time to adjust to all this. I know you understand."

  "I do. The thing I need to understand is, what do you want, Martha? What exactly do you want by choosing to be my wife, despite all the pain we went through in the past? Because, I can tell you that I won't be satisfied with you merely being a token wife."

  Logan's voice had that firmness again; the strength of tone she had never heard before.

  Martha looked away. "I have no intention of being just a token wife."

  The next words were there; they were in her mind, floating and waiting to be spoken, but she didn't know if she could speak them. She knew that if she uttered them he wouldn't understand, because she couldn't really understand them herself. She took a slow breath in and decided to continue.

  "Because I loved you once," she said, and her voice seemed to come from a very long way off, not even sounding like her own. The word that lay in the middle of that statement seemed to hang between them both. She knew that the word had come out awkwardly, hesitantly. She immediately wished she had given the words more careful consideration. But her emotions were intense, and she was trying so very hard to contain them.

  Logan stiffened.

  "You loved me once? You say loved. In the past." He hesitated before continuing: "But not now?"

  Martha closed her eyes before she spoke. Her mind was a whirl of confusing thoughts. "I didn't say I don't love you now. That's not what I meant. You have to understand how hard this is for me."

  "You can't give up the past. Can you Martha? That's really what this is about. What do I have to do to convince you that I have changed?"

  "You don't have to do anything Logan. I can see that you are a different person. Maybe that's the problem. You are so very different."

  "Am I really that different?"

  "You don't look the same. You hardly act the same."

  "But I am the same person, Martha." He reached over and took her hand and placed it over his heart. "Inside here is the same Logan who sat with you on this bench, in the garden of my parent's house; the same Logan who helped you press flowers into your journal; the same man who tried to court you, and marry you."

  The memories flooded into Martha's mind. They came, despite her efforts to keep them at bay. They had been buried all these years, and she'd thought she had them under control, but obviously she'd been wrong. With Logan by her side the memories would never be under control. Every word he spoke would draw out even more images and sounds that she had tried so hard to push away into a dark recess of her mind.

  Martha felt a flush of heat across her face. Logan saw the change in her and sat back.

  "May we go back inside please?" she asked.

  Logan straightened his jacket. "Of course. How selfish of me," he said frowning. He stood and shook his head, obviously angry at himself. "How stupid I am. It has been such a tiring day for you and here I am asking you silly questions, when you should be enjoying our special day."

  Logan shifted his feet nervously, and reached down a hand to Martha. "Please Martha. Take my hand. We can go inside and rest.

  Martha found his discomfiture appealing. It had been a curious day; the loveliness of the wedding contrasted with the seriousness of their conversation on the old bench. It had been a significant day for her and Logan. Time would be needed to heal them both.

  They went back inside the house as the sun was beginning to settle behind the distant hills. She was grateful to be back in the warmth and comfort of the ranch
house.

  They headed to the kitchen and ate some of the cold food which Mrs. Proudie had left out for them. The truth was that Martha wasn't all that hungry. There was so much on her mind after the conversation; so many unresolved questions.

  Logan was kindly in looking after her every need while they ate, and the conversation was confined to casual matters of his daily life on the ranch.

  Eventually they made their way to the parlor and made themselves comfortable on the divan. Logan's conversation was easy and warm hearted. He seemed to trying to make up for his earlier lapses by doing his best to make her feel at home. As she sat on the divan, memories of the past came flooding back.

  Martha looked forward to seeing Logan as a rancher, something she would have found inconceivable a few short years before.

  She watched him talk and wondered what he would be like supervising men, riding the range and working with cattle. He would be assured and confident, that much was certain. She had seen that already and it had taken her very much by surprise. The young Logan had been a tentative and shy young man, under the dominant influence of his father. The Logan of Wyoming looked like a man transformed, out from under the stifling influence of strict elders.

  Was this the reason why he had taken such an extreme action, and had moved out to the wilderness to test himself? Was it merely down to the oppressive influence of older family members? If that was the case, then she and Logan had more in common than she had at first realized.

  After all, Martha and Rachel had suffered at the hands of their aunt and uncle who had done everything possible to ruin the young women's lives, for reasons that Martha could never fathom. She guessed that it might have to do with old family grievances she knew nothing about. When asked why she was being so cruel to herself and Rachel, the aunt had simply shrugged and dismissed the question with a vicious wave of the hand. Martha's dreams were stilled populated with the events of those terrible months. How difficult it was to leave the past behind. It seemed to follow her and refuse to let her go free.

  But she was free. She had married Logan; he was a man from her past; they had their difficulties to overcome, but she was determined that the past would not lay it's heavy weight on her forever.