by Vivi Holt
“You love me? Do you truly mean it?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, and reached for her cheek, cupping it with one hand. His thumb rubbed her skin lightly. His face changed, and a happy smile pushed the anger away.
“Oh, my darling. How I’ve longed to hear you say those words. I love you too. I don’t care that you’re pregnant – so much the better. We’ll have a child to share our happiness with. Only, promise me that you’ll never keep anything from me again.”
Katie laughed for joy, a bubble of laughter that buried her sobs and brought a smile to Kristoff’s face.
“I promise. Yes, I promise to share everything with you.”
He knelt down on one knee, and took her left hand in his.
“Katie Pearson, my sweet Katie, will you do the honor of being my wife?”
“Oh, yes dearest Kristoff – I will.”
Kristoff swept Katie into his arms, lifting her feet from the ground and kissing her on the mouth with a hot intensity that took her breath away. Lowering her down again, he said, “Well then, shall we?”
He offered her his arm, which she took with a smile, and they walked back to the chapel each thanking God for bringing them together, even through all of the misunderstandings and turmoil.
20
Kristoff gazed down at the sweet face that beamed up at him through the redness and tears. He grinned at her as the minister read out the vows, which they each repeated after him in turn. He had finally learned her secret, and the veil of secrecy that had been guarding her heart and keeping her from him had dropped. He looked into her face and saw her standing before him – vulnerable and full of joy. She had shared herself with him, the way that he’d been hoping she would from the first moment she’d walked into his store. His soul was full to overflowing with delight.
He scanned the crowd of friends for a moment, and his eyes landed on Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins, who were grinning from ear to ear at the happy couple. Mrs. Hutchins eyes sparkled with tears, and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief.
Kristoff returned his gaze to his bride, and listened intently as she completed her vows. Then it was his turn to promise to spend his life with her, to protect her and provide for her. To be faithful to her always, and to stand by her side through sickness and health.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” finished the minister, smiling warmly at them both.
Kristoff drew Katie close to him. His eyes found hers, and they sparkled with pleasure. Slowly, he dropped his face to hers, his eyes never breaking the connection. Their lips met, and he felt a jolt of rapture pass through him. His heart felt as though it might burst with contentment. Ending the kiss, he took her face between his hands and kissed the tip of her nose.
“So, Mrs. Petersen. Are you ready to go home?” he whispered.
She nodded, her eyes full of love.
“Well then, let’s go.”
The couple faced the audience, fingers woven together, and received a great cheer in response. They moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and shaking hands as they made their way down the aisle. Children threw a colorful, and sweet smelling mixture of flower petals and rice at them. Strangers hugged Katie’s neck. And as they strode through the door, the brilliant sunshine glanced off their golden heads. They turned to face each other with a smile, and holding tightly to the other’s hand they stepped forward into their new life.
Epilogue
August 1871
The trotting movements of the horse beneath Katie made her catch her breath as they bounded across an open field. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and held it there. They were going so fast, the ground was flying by beneath Merry’s trotting black hooves, and Katie didn’t know if she could stay balanced for much longer. Widening her eyes, she felt her body drifting to one side – further and further with each bounce.
Just as she was about to slide right off, Kristoff came riding up beside her with a wide grin lighting up his tanned face.
“Everything all right there, Mrs. Petersen?”
Katie flashed him a nervous smile. “I think I’m falling!”
Kristoff leaned toward her and pushed her back up into the saddle with one, strong hand.
“Better?”
Katie nodded, and took a firmer hold of the reins, pulling them tighter with both hands.
“Try moving your body with the horse. Push down into the saddle, and rock your pelvis like this.” Kristoff’s muscular physique swayed with the motion of the horse, his rear never leaving the seat of the saddle.
Poking the tip of her tongue out one side of her mouth in concentration, Katie tried to mimic him but it was hard to do while riding side-saddle, and she found herself bouncing even harder on poor Merry’s back. Kristoff laughed with delight at her, a full bodied, contagious laugh that almost made Katie smile.
“I can’t do it,” she cried, pouting.
“Keep trying, my darling. In a few years we’ll be teaching little Nicky how to ride, and you’ll need to be able to keep up with us. We won’t want to leave you behind.”
Katie felt her heart warm at his words. Every time he spoke of their child, it still gave her a thrill. Less than a year ago, she’d been so anxious about her and her baby’s future. But now, everything was so very different. Nicky had been born without complication at their home, with the help of Mrs. Hutchins and a local midwife two months earlier. He was a beautiful, well-settled baby, and Katie found herself falling more and more in love with him every day. And as for Kristoff – their love had blossomed, and grown, until she could no longer imagine her life without him. Since their wedding, eight months earlier, he had courted and wooed her in every way a man could. Katie found herself trusting and leaning on him like she had never been able to do with anyone before. He was her rock, her signpost, and her true love. She would never forget her first love – Nicholas – but with Kristoff’s help the wounds in her heart had been healed, and she had opened it up to welcome Kristoff in without reservation.
“I know that I promised I’d take you riding on the night of our engagement party,” called Kristoff as King took off at a gallop, soon separating the two of them, “but it’s better late than never!”
Katie laughed at her wild husband, and leaned forward in her saddle, urging Merry to go faster. Merry took up the challenge and leapt forward into a gallop, her ears back and her legs flying as she followed in King’s shadow. Pushing into the saddle, Katie willed her body to move with the horse. All of a sudden, everything smoothed out and Katie’s world stopped jolting.
“I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” she cried.
Kristoff peered back at her over his shoulder, and beamed. “I knew you’d get it,” he called.
Katie’s hair came out of its braid, and drifted out behind her in a wave. She stayed low and snug over Merry’s neck, her hands gripping the reins and a smile fixed to her features. She watched as ducks, geese and other waterfowl rose up in fright from the waters of Kristoff’s lake as their horses thundered past. The blacks, whites, greys and browns of their feathery plumage highlighted against the dark green of the fir trees, then the lighter colors of the Sierra Nevada rising up at the edge of the valley like a troop of sentinels keeping watch over them. Kristoff pulled King to a stop at the lake’s edge, pushing his hat back and lifting his face to absorb the afternoon sunshine. Katie leaned back in her saddle, and tugged gently on the reins, bringing Merry to a halt beside him.
“It’s beautiful,” said Katie, turning about in her saddle to admire the length of the lush, green valley.
“As are you, my darling wife,” said Kristoff, a twinkle in his eyes. “Any regrets, dear?”
Katie shook her head and urged Merry closer to King’s side. Standing in her stirrups, she leaned into Kristoff and kissed his full lips, her eyes wide open and meeting his with love.
“None,” she replied. “And you?”
He scratched his head thoughtful
ly, and twisted his mouth into a wry smile. “My only regret is not getting a bigger bed. I mean how much space can one tiny woman take up? Really? You sleep like you’re attached to a spinning wheel or something. I get kicked all night long up and down my side, it’s most aggravating.”
Kristoff laughed heartily and Katie pummeled him on the arm with her small fists.
“I’m teasing. No regrets at all. I’m happier than a man has any right to be.”
He lifted his arms and wrapped them around Katie’s shoulders, pulling her closer for an intimate embrace. Tilting her chin toward him with one finger, he looked deep into her eyes, then kissed her gently. A short, sweet kiss, followed by a longer, more passionate one that closed Katie’s eyes and filled her body with a heat that flowed from her lips to her toes. She soaked it all in – the beauty of the landscape surrounding her, the husband who loved her, and the healthy baby boy who brought her daily joy and thanked God for his bountiful provision.
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
Mail Order Bride: Holly
Book 4
Vivi Holt
About Mail Order Bride: Holly
Orphaned as a girl, and now a widow with five children to feed, Holly leans on her sister and brother-in-law for support. But when her sister’s husband turns them out, she’s overcome by despair. With nowhere to turn and no one to help them, she discovers an advertisement for a Mail Order Bride in the local newspaper.
After suffering an injury while working on his ranch, Kurt Sawyer decides to advertise for a Mail Order Bride. Unsure of what to expect, when Kurt meets her on the train platform, he's overwhelmed by the responsibility he now faces.
Can Holly overcome the pain of her past to give love a chance? Or will Kurt send her home before she even has a chance to open her heart?
1
August 1877
Kansas
Kurt Sawyer clicked his tongue and watched the sturdy horses pull the plow, his brow furrowed. The lines weren’t straight. Perhaps they needed a little more speed. “Hiyyup! Get on there, Sam! Giddyup, Sal!”
The animals leaned hard into the leather straps across the front of their chests, heaving the plow forward. Its sharp blades cut through the soil, leaving freshly dug earth behind them. Kurt smiled and adjusted his grip on the reins as he walked behind the plow. In the distance, he saw a swirl of gray and black clouds gathering on the horizon. They soon filled the sky, hurrying toward him. He’d have to move fast if he was to finish this field before returning the plow to the Drake farm.
Monday would mark his first full year on his ranch, and he was glad to see the end of it. It had been a tough year, one of the hardest he’d ever experienced. But looking back, he couldn’t help feeling proud. He’d managed a summer crop and now he’d be planting wheat to harvest next spring. And with the horse-drawn plow to help him, it might be a decent crop.
He’d written his folks back in New York state a couple of weeks earlier to let them know how he was doing. His mother had been concerned about him going west, certain something terrible would happen to him. But nothing had, and he was beginning to believe this ranch was his chance to make something of himself.
His brother Angus, ten years his senior, had moved to Wichita first. He and his wife Beatrice set out with their nest egg, intending to make a name for themselves. He’d started a flour mill in the growing town a few years ago and had done well. Now they had two children, were planning on opening an adjoining mercantile and had written Kurt, telling him he should come join them. It hadn’t taken him long to make the decision – he wanted adventure and a chance to make his mark. And this was it.
He smiled wider as the neat furrows formed behind him. It would’ve taken him days to do this by hand. His neighbor William Drake had bought the plow in the spring and offered to let him borrow it. He’d jumped at the opportunity and couldn’t have been happier with his decision. He’d have to do something nice for Mr. Drake to make up for the man’s generosity. It was one of the things he loved about Kansas – even in these hard postwar times, every farmer shared and supported others as best they could. There was even talk of banding together to buy a harvester next spring.
When he reached the end of the field, the plow bounced off something hard, jolting the reins from his hands. He stumbled forward and grabbed the straps of leather as they wriggled free through the grass. “Whoa there, boys.” He pulled the horses to a halt and hurried forward to examine the plow, kneeling in front of it to study the blades. With care he ran his fingers over the sharp steel edges, his chest pressed to the ground. Aha – there was a nick near the front of one where it had likely hit a rock.
Kurt frowned and began to back out from under the plow when a crack of thunder made him start. The horses leaped forward and stumbled back again, spinning around in their traces. “Whoa!” he called – just as Sam’s enormous hooves landed on his back. The horse stepped forward, then back again, and he screamed in agony as the Clydesdale’s hooves crushed him into the ground.
The assault lasted only moments, but it seemed like an eternity. As quickly as they were spooked, the horses calmed and stood silently between the traces, ready to get back to work.
Kurt rolled onto his back with a groan, his face covered in muck, his head throbbing and his vision blurred. He had to get up and out of the way before it happened again, but his left arm lay limp at his side and he feared he might never be able to lift it again. With his right hand, he pulled himself forward and away from the plow, then scrambled onto his knees and slowly crawled one-handed.
Once he was a few feet away, he slumped to the ground again, moaned and ran his right hand over his head. It felt wet and warm to the touch – blood? He shut his eyes tight as a wave of nausea swept over him. He needed help, but there was no one around for miles – Mr. Drake was the nearest neighbor, but his house was a mile away.
Kurt rolled to his hands and knees again and a fresh wave of pain crashed over him, bringing out a band of sweat across his forehead. He groaned and took a quick breath as blackness descended. He collapsed on the soft earth as fat drops of rain pelted his head and back.
The sound of crickets pierced Kurt’s consciousness and his eyes flickered open. It was getting dark and he could see the horses out of the corner of his eye. They stood patiently, their ears flicking in an attempt to dislodge the gnats and mosquitoes that appeared when day turned to night. The ground around him was wet, and he could see the storm clouds moving off in the distance.
With a loud moan, he set his right hand beneath him and pushed up, struggling slowly to his feet. His entire body ached and a sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder made him grimace. He didn’t know how badly he’d been injured, but he knew he needed to get to town to see the doctor as quickly as he could. Whether he could manage the journey was another matter entirely.
He hobbled over to Sam’s side and began the arduous process of unclipping traces and unbuckling leather straps one-handed. Soon Sam was free of Sal and the plow. Kurt took him by the bit and led him to the small cabin he’d built on the ranch as his temporary home.
He needed water, so he went inside, grabbed the water jug from the kitchen table with a trembling hand and gulped down great mouthfuls. With a loud sigh, he wiped some over his eyes and face, startled to see how much blood dripped from his hand. Cradling his left arm, he stumbled back out to where Sam stood, his head hanging low over the water trough, his whiskered snout bathed with droplets. “Let’s go to town, Sam,” he whispered, his head swimming.
With his right hand, he pulled himself up onto Sam’s back with a grunt, his legs closing over the animal’s round, damp sides. He kicked his heels into Sam’s ribs until the horse stepped slowly forward. He tugged on the reins, turned Sam toward town and kicked harder, sending the creature into a slow ca
nter. Blood ran in a steady stream down the side of his face and dripped from his chin onto his hand. He watched the rivulets trickle down the outside of his white-knuckled fist as his body swayed with the horse beneath him.
All the way to town, he lurched left and right, back and forth as Sam steadily followed the road to Wichita. By the time they reached its outskirts, stars twinkled overhead. The blanket of gray clouds was gone and the moonless night was full of the sound of crickets and other creatures as they scurried to and fro over the drenched earth.
Soon he was at Dr. White’s house. Hemlock White and his wife had moved to Wichita six months earlier from Virginia. Kurt remembered the welcome party that had been held by the grateful congregation of the First Presbyterian Church on the Sunday after their arrival. He tugged gently on the reins, guiding Sam toward the small whitewashed cottage, a lantern burning within.
He lifted a leg over the horse’s back, to drop to the ground, but lost his footing, his head still spinning and fell onto his rear with a cry. He lay still on the ground, trying desperately to get his eyes to focus on the dark branches of a tree overhead. Finally he managed to scramble to his feet and lurched toward the front door. Next to the door hung a brass bell with a string hung beside it. He stumbled, his left shoulder hitting the wall with a thud, but managed to stay upright, and rang the bell.
The door opened. Kurt saw Dr. White’s bearded face. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell in a heap at the doctor’s feet.
September 1877
New York City
Holly Bristol poked the darning needle through the sock, then paused to study her progress. Darning was a way to pass the time, and these days it saved her a pretty penny as well. Raising five children alone wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d have to face. Every sock saved and handed down was another one she didn’t have to buy.