by Vivi Holt
Brent’s lips tightened and his eyes clouded over. “That’s … good news, Christy. I’m happy for you.”
Christy was confused. Why didn’t he look happy? Perhaps he didn’t understand what she was saying. “It’s not a large amount of money, but there’s the house in Philadelphia and enough money for me to live off for a while. I’m just so relieved. It’s the last thing I have of theirs – I know it probably doesn’t make sense, but it feels as if I can hold onto a piece of them now.”
Brent went to her, laid a hand on her shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. “I’m glad, Christy. It’s what you deserve.” Then he strode from the house, shoved his Stetson on his head and disappeared toward the horse yard.
Within a few minutes, Christy could hear Patty’s hooves on the driveway as he galloped off. Where is he off to? Why is he acting so strangely? What on Earth is going on with him today? She sighed and stamped her foot in frustration. Sometimes she didn’t understand Brent at all.
Brent leaned over Patty’s neck and urged him forward. The horse responded, laying his ears back and galloping across the field. He was headed toward town, but as he reached the main road, he pulled Patty to a halt. He needed time to think, and the best place he’d found for that was Red Rock Canyon. He wheeled the horse around and set off that way instead.
Before long, he reached the chasm, slipped from Patty’s back and let the reins drop to the ground. Patty would stay close, grazing on the autumn prairie grasses. He sat at the edge of one of the cliff faces and stared out over the landscape. The beauty of the rugged scene always calmed his spirit and helped him think more clearly.
He’d been concerned this day would come. Ever since he found that letter about Christy’s inheritance, he knew that one day she might not need him any longer. And today it was all over her face. She was relieved. She was free. She didn’t need him to take care of her now. She would go home now that she could afford to. He was certain of it.
He lay back and stared up into the sky. He didn’t want her to leave. His life was so much better with her in it. He had to tell her how he felt. He couldn’t let her go without at least pleading his case. They were good together. They were happy. He couldn’t believe that she didn’t feel it as well. And when they kissed, it was as though a bolt of lightning jolted him, sending pleasure crashing through him every time.
No, he couldn’t let her go. Not without a fight.
He jumped to his feet and hurried back to Patty. With a leap, he landed on the horse’s back and wheeled him around to head back to the ranch. He had to see Christy before she made up her mind to leave and he lost her for good.
21
Christy lifted the heavy saddle onto Sally’s back and with an effort cinched the girth strap tight. She jerked on the saddle to make sure it held, and it did. “Good. Now what next?”
A bridle hung on the wall of the barn, and she lifted it from the nail holding it in place and carried it back to where Sally stood waiting. She slipped it over Sally’s ears and pushed the bit gently between her teeth. But when she attempted to climb onto Sally’s back, the old gray mare walked forward, almost sending Christy tumbling to the ground. She grabbed a handful of mane and sat quickly in the saddle, adjusting herself into the sidesaddle position and smoothing her skirts over her legs.
With a click of her tongue, she steered Sally out, and they set off at a walk across the field. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed time to think. Brent had left hours ago and not returned. Perhaps he’d gone to the saloon in town to whisper sweet nothings in Prissy’s ear. The thought filled her with anger, and she shook her head. No, he wouldn’t do that. She knew him. She had to trust him. He had told her he didn’t go to the saloon anymore, and as far as she knew he’d never done anything to break her trust, never lied to her in the three months they’d spent together. She had to hold onto that.
What she really needed, now that she had options, was to consider them and decide what she wanted to do with her life. She really could go anywhere or do anything she wanted. So … what did she want?
She passed the spot near the creek where she’d been ambushed by the prairie dog when she first arrived, and carefully steered Sally around the burrows pockmarking the field. It would be disastrous for Sally to step into one of those holes – she could break her leg and might injure Christy in the process. Past that, the flat prairie opened out before her, the yellowing lengths of grass swaying in the gentle breeze.
Christy closed her eyes and soaked up the silence and sunshine. This was beautiful country, and she’d grown to love the vast wilderness in the short time she’d lived on the ranch. It was hard to imagine returning to the city now. The idea of giving up the cozy house, the chicken coop, Bo and Sally, made her heart ache. But it was thinking about leaving Brent that brought tears to her eyes.
She knew she had to consider her friends back home. Candice had written her a letter a week, begging her to come back to Philadelphia. And with money, she could study to become a teacher. No doubt she could find a nice place to board, or just live in Mama and Daddy’s old house, and return to the life she’d left behind with minimal fuss.
But she knew in that moment, deep in her heart, that she didn’t want to leave Newton, or the ranch, or most of all Brent. This was her home now. She loved it here, and she loved him.
I love him. The realization hit her like a slap of truth in the face. When had it happened? Was it that first day, when he fixed her trunk and drew her a warm bath? Was it on their picnic, or at the dance? Was it when he patiently taught her to milk Bo? Or was it just a gradual descent, where each and every moment of the past three months had drawn her deeper and deeper into love?
She turned Sally around and headed back toward the ranch. She could see it in the distance, its low-peaked roof sheltering the sprawling building. The wide verandah shaded the windows and the prosperous garden lined the front with green leaves and vibrant flowers. Home. It was her home, and her heart warmed at the sight of it.
It was time she told Brent how she felt. He had to know that she loved him and wanted to stay.
Brent pulled Patty to a halt beside the barn and threw the reins around a fence post. He jumped to the ground and ran into the house, careful to wipe his feet on the doormat. “Christy!”
No response. At this time of day she was usually in the kitchen fixing lunch, but she was nowhere to be seen. He hurried through the house, calling her name in every room. She was gone. Where could she be? Surely she couldn’t have left already, without saying goodbye? He felt his throat tighten as he ran outside. Oh, there she was – riding Sally into the barn. He sighed in relief and hurried after her.
She turned to greet him with a smile and he ran straight to her, pulling her from the horse’s back and into his arms in a tender embrace. “Christy, there you are. I was worried. I didn’t know where you were.”
She looked at him in confusion. “I just took Sally out for a ride. And I didn’t know where you were.”
He laughed and smoothed the hair from her forehead, gazing into her green eyes with wonder. “You’ve never done that before. I guess this means you’re comfortable riding on your own now?”
“I suppose. Is that all right?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Are you … upset with me about something, Brent? When you left earlier, you seemed angry.”
“No, it’s just that … well, now you have your inheritance, so I imagine you’ll want to go home to be with your friends and get back to your old life …” He watched her face carefully, hoping for a sign that he was wrong.
She furrowed her brow. “Oh, Brent Taylor, you silly man. This is my home .”
He felt his cheeks flush with warmth, his lungs expand, as though he was finally coming up from under a deep heavy sea. “You’re not going back to Philadelphia? Or Topeka?”
“Not unless you’re coming with me. Well … I may need to go to Topeka to collect my inheritance. Unless I can have them
transfer it here – is there a bank in Newton?”
“Nearest one’s up in Deer City,” he replied numbly. “One stop up the rail line.”
“Well, that would make it easy. But otherwise … well, today is officially the last day of our probationary marriage – and I know my choice. What do you want?”
“I want you to stay here. With me.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I love you, Christy Taylor. You’re my wife and I want you with me.”
Christy pressed her forehead against his and smiled. “Then I’m yours. I love you too, Brent Taylor.”
Brent laughed and pulled back to look at her, his eyes dark with emotion. “You have made me the happiest man alive.” Then he drew her close again, one hand on the small of her back, the other cupping her face in his palm. Their lips pressed together for a passionate kiss, filled with a love and tenderness that sent his head spinning.
He loved her. And she loved him.
“So what now?” Christy asked when they broke the kiss.
“Now I spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. I’ll take care of you and I’ll make sure you have all the happiness you deserve. Forever.”
THE END
REVIEW
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review where you bought it. Reviews help other readers discover my books, which in turn enables me to write another. Thank you! - Vivi Holt
Historical Note & Author’s Remarks
When I started writing this book, the Mail Order Bride genre was new to me. It started out as a short story that began in Boston and ended in Oklahoma. I’ve always loved historical novels and stories, and studied history extensively in college. So, writing in the historical romance genre naturally appealed to me. Stories of strong women throughout history especially grab my attention, and I liked the idea of following a series of women who find themselves alone in the world, and with few options. They each choose marriage to a stranger, to give them a new chance at life.
Real-life stories of the Mail Order Brides in the old west are fascinating. There were so many different, and varied, reasons why women chose that life, especially with the lack of eligible men in the east after The War Between The States. And of course, the men of the west found themselves surrounded by other men, women of ill repute, or married women – single women generally didn’t travel west. So, a Mail Order Bride became the only chance of finding a wife for so many men at that time in history.
I first published this story as a short read. Over time, I received feedback and reviews from my readers asking for more, and so the story has been extended and re-written as a novel. I hope that you enjoy the newly extended version. It’s the first in the Orphan Brides Go West series of four books. Each book in the series is a stand-alone novel, and each one is set in a different location in the old west. What they have in common is that the women in each book are left alone, without family to help them, and with the potential for further disaster to befall them unless they embrace significant change. They each become Mail Order Brides, out of desperation and with some hope for a better future.
I hope you enjoy them all!
With love,
Vivi xx
Mail Order Bride: Ramona
Book 2
Vivi Holt
About Mail Order Bride: Ramona
Ramona has always wanted to perform on Broadway, but when her mother moves to Austin to re-marry after her father’s death, she is left stranded in New York, homeless and alone.
Michael is a construction manager in Austin, Texas. Austin’s growth is booming after the war, and yet single women are scarce and Michael's loneliness begins to consume him. Quiet and gentle, Michael longs to find the missing piece to his otherwise contented life – someone to share the journey with - a wife.
When Ramona discovers the Mail Order Bride service, she sees it as her chance to go to Austin and find her mother. She arrives in Austin and it soon becomes apparent that she has other things on her mind than getting married.
When tragedy strikes, Michael is there to pick up the pieces, and Ramona’s finds her heart in jeopardy. Will she fall for the man she once overlooked? Can they find happiness together after all?
This book is a sweet, clean, western, historical, romance novella. It is a complete story, but it is also part of the Orphan Brides Go West series. Be sure to read them all - in any order!
1
October 28, 1886
Ramona
Ramona Selmer leaned back against a sturdy pile on Pier A, and gazed out over the New York harbor. The water lapped soothingly against the shore below, sending a cool breeze up through the gaps between the boards of the pier. An enormous statue across the harbor gleamed brilliantly across the water, and Ramona squinted against the glare of the sunlight reflecting off its surface. The copper-tinted lady liberty stood tall and proud, waving a flame above her graceful head, which was crowned in long spikes while one arm cradled a book. The statue had opened officially today, dedicated to the people of New York City, a gift from the state of France. Although Ramona had been watching the progress on the construction of the statue every chance she got in the year since it had arrived by boat from France, her excitement had swelled during the past few days as the unveiling approached. The entire landscape of the New York harbor had changed because of this one piece of art, and people lingered along the shoreline gazing at it and pointing with soft smiles. Ramona loved its name – the Statue of Liberty. It was a marvelous day. A day that was a long time coming, and Ramona had relished every single celebratory moment of it.
Pushing herself to her feet, she sighed dreamily and, taking one last glance at the statue perched on the tiny Liberty Island, began to make her way back down Broadway Street. She had to get moving if she was to get to her audition on time and then home to the West Village for dinner. She also wanted to do a quick walk down the long line of theatres on Broadway, as she always did when she was in the city. Broadway was her dream. She’d taken dance, voice, and drama lessons every chance she got from when she was four years old. And ever since she could remember she’d auditioned for every show on and off Broadway that she could find.
Ramona’s mother had worked hard over the years, scraping together the money for formal lessons whenever possible. The rest of the time Ramona practiced at the park with friends, or in their tiny apartment. At the age of nineteen she was starting to despair whether she would ever realize her ambitions, but her father had encouraged her not to give up hope. He’d called her his little Broadway star. And so she kept the dream alive, fanning the flame whenever possible by tramping down Broadway Street and staring at the colorful posters, and through the doorways imagining what lay within. Picturing herself the star of a hit show, her fans lined up at the door waiting to catch a glimpse of a graceful pirouette or plié
Ramona skipped past the theatres, a small satchel bouncing on one shoulder. She stopped at an intersection and sighed deeply, taking one last look down the street at the sparkling foyers and colorful posters, and turned down a side alley. She pushed her way through a thick, red timber door and into a darkened room. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, but once they did she could see the outline of the small, musty theater. Black shadows of the backs of empty chairs lined the space, row upon row, and in the front sat three figures who were perched forward watching a young girl tap dance across the stage followed closely by a yellow spotlight. As Ramona made her way to the front of the room, the song ended and the girl’s dance was over. She tick-tacked off the stage, and the three men seated in the front row shuffled papers and murmured together quietly. One of the men lifted his head and spun it back and forth, shouting “Ramona Selmer?”
Ramona ran quickly to stand in front of the stage.
“Yes, sir. I’m here.”
“Great. When you’re ready, Ramona.”
He smiled at her, then returned to writing in his notebook. His round spectacles were
perched on the end of a long, pointy, nose, and his waistcoat was partially unbuttoned. Ramona walked to the side of the stage, and up the stairs, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Sitting down, she quickly removed her shoes. Reaching into her shoulder satchel she pulled out a pair of pink, scuffed ballet flats. She smoothed her long skirts, and removed her sandals, then pulled the slippers on over the pale pink stockings that covered her legs and feet. Ramona stood quickly and delivered the sheet music she had been carrying in her satchel to the pianist. Laying her satchel down on the side of the stage, she walked confidently to center stage with a smile on her face.
Ramona brushed her hair behind her shoulder. She wanted the director to see her face. Maybe he’d remember her then. As she waited for the music to begin, she lifted her arms in a graceful pose and tilted her head to stare at the seats in the back of the room. For a single moment, she felt like a glamorous Broadway star, dancing in a theater filled to capacity with elegant folks, out for a night on the town, their shining dresses, sparkling jewels and bright faces lighting up the night. All of them had bought tickets to be here. All of them were here to see her, Ramona. They had come to hear her sing, to watch her dance, to cry with her over some tragedy and to celebrate with her when she found love.
Glamour was what Ramona craved. There was little of it to be found in her life off stage, in the one bedroom West Village apartment she shared with her mother, Maria. But on stage things were different. When she was on the stage, she could be anything or anyone she wanted to be. The music began, and Ramona’s lithe frame floated across the stage, leaping and spinning as she performed the routine she’d rehearsed a hundred times. Her movements slowed as she opened her mouth to sing a lilting song, full of longing and sorrow.