Romance: Western Mail Order Bride "Bethany's Love"-Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) (159 page)

Chapter 3

Everything that had taken place after Meg’s retreat from the supper table up to this point had been completely exhausting. It had been exhilarating as well, and so her body was caught in a strange kind of limbo where half of her wanted nothing more than to sleep while the other half was determined to stay awake. Her body was bone tired, both from lack of sleep and from the waves of adrenaline that had propelled her forward with lightning speed only to leave her when the job was done. Her mind, however, though calling out for sleep in its own way, wanted so badly to stay awake, to keep a lookout, to make sure that her uncle and mother hadn’t somehow discovered her plan and sent someone after her. She also wanted to see. She wanted to see
everything
. She had never been allowed to go anywhere, not even in her own city, let alone outright travelling. The world was such a very big place, with such extraordinary things, and she knew nothing of it. She had hardly seen
anything
, and for a girl with a quick wit and a curious mind that was a very bothersome thing. Once she had made her decision, however, things begun to move very quickly. She had thrown the few things she believed she could carry, including her bundle of letters from Charles (easily one of her most prized possessions), into a bag and waited. 

She knew that thanks to the amount her mother and uncle had imbibed that her mother would sleep like the dead. That was when Meg opened her door, crept down the stairs, and walked straight out of her front door. She sorely wished that she could speak to Polly before she left, to tell her goodbye, but it wasn’t possible, and she knew that her sweet friend would be happy for her for finally getting out. After all, it had been her suggestion in the first place to look at the ads in the paper, to look for a man who was looking for a bride and lived nowhere near her mother.  They had started doing it as a lark, never thinking that it would turn into anything substantial, but then Meg had seen a notice left by a man named Charles and everything had changed. Charles, who lived in what she thought of as the wilderness of the south, the frontier, where adventure and discovery were still distinct possibilities. Polly had seen the notice he had left and had pointed it out to Meg, daring her to send a response. Meg had done it, but not only because of the dare. She had done it because the voice that came through in his notice was kind, and because he sounded like he needed a friend just as much as she did. And so they had begun their correspondence and the longer it went on, the more sure she became that there was something there with this man. She
liked
him. She had never considered that she might actually like a man and have the chance to marry him, but that was what Charles represented for her. He exposed her to a world that she had never believed possible for her, Charles and his wild west.  When he had sent that train ticket she had known that she was at a crossroads, that she had a decision coming that she could not avoid forever. But she had never had to make a decision of such magnitude in her life; she hadn’t even been given the chance to do so, even if she’d wanted to. She wasn’t even sure that she would have been able to do so had she not felt that her hand was being forced, but it had been and so here she was, on a train for the first time in her life and pulling into a station in a part of the country she knew nothing about. It was a jarring experience, to say the least.

Because she was so very tired, having not slept a wink in almost twenty-four hours by the time everyone was loaded onto the train, she only managed to stay awake for so long before passing out. From that point on she was in a constant state of half-sleep, gasping and shooting bolt upright from time to time, looking out of the windows at the scenery rapidly flying past their train. Everything looked so strange to her! Perhaps it was because of their speed, or maybe it was the pitch black night with only the light of the moon to see by. Maybe it was the fact that she could never quite tell if she was asleep or awake but everything around her seemed to be from some place other than earth. She wasn’t even sure how long she had been
on
the train. She had forgotten to ask for the length of the trip before her journey began. Her entire life felt like it had been put on hold, like it was one big transition up until the moment when the train came to a stop. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around her in astonishment. She knew without having to be told that this was it. This was the place that was to be her new home and all at once she was completely terrified. Nothing about the small amount of this new town she could see out of her window looked like anything she could recognize or understand. What was she
doing
here? What was she
thinking
? True, the life that she had at her mother’s home with her horrid uncle Jack tirelessly nipping at her heels had felt unbearable, but how was she to know that she wouldn’t be walking into something equally unbearable here? Here, out in the middle of the western part of the country, she didn’t know anybody. And now she was supposed to take the only things that still belonged to her in the world, step off of this train, and walk into the arms of a man she had never met before. And if she had felt like she didn’t have a chance before, now she had even less of one. There was no way she would be able to return to her less than ideal home unless somebody decided to give her a ticket. She did not have a penny to her name. If this was not the place her journey was meant to lead her to, she had no idea what she would do next.  It was frightening and also humbling. She supposed that it was always humbling to realize how little control one had over her own life, to be reminded that one could not do everything on her own. With that thought rooted deeply in her mind, Meg closed her eyes briefly, knowing that soon the conductor would be moving down the aisles of the train to speed up the passengers’ departure. She closed her eyes and called out to god, asking him to stay with her on this new road that she was taking. She called out and when she opened her eyes she fancied that perhaps she wasn’t quite as afraid as she had been only moments before. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Feeling more resilient than she had in quite some time, she stood, her depressingly small bag clutched in her little hands, and deboarded the train. 

For a moment, she was completely blinded by the vibrant sunlight beating down upon her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling the sun beating down so entirely and insistently. She looked around her, squinting through shell-shocked eyes, and realized that at least part of it was how few buildings were around her. Unlike the crowded, dirty city she had just come from, the place where she found herself now was nothing but wide open space. There was nothing to keep the sun and the sky from swallowing her up, nothing to beat the nature back with a big, ugly stick. She closed her eyes, turned her face up to the sun, and took in a deep breath. Her lungs, her heart, every physical thing about her felt free here, regardless of the fear she still felt beating against her temples. How wonderful would she feel then if she could unburden herself of her worries? She wasn’t absolutely sure, but she thought that might be what it was to feel genuinely free, to be happy, to be at peace.

“Excuse me, miss?  Are you waiting for someone?”

Meg’s eyes flew open and she immediately regretted having closed them in the first place. Once again, she could hardly see a thing and what she
could
see was little more than a blur. She rubbed her eyes with her balled up fists and knew that she must look like a little girl, but at the moment didn’t care. She had to see who she was talking to, or almost talking to.  Because suddenly she was acutely aware of the fact that she had not spoken to anyone in quite some time. She hadn’t spoken to anyone, in fact, since telling her mother and uncle that she could not possibly marry him. She needed to hear her own voice, to know that she was still there and had not vanished into the underbelly of things when she hadn’t been paying attention. So still squinting and bone tired, she gave the sweetest smile she could manage and opened her mouth, praying that words would come out.

“Yes, I suppose I am, although I’m sorry to say I couldn’t tell you what he looks like.”

“Well what’s his name?  Maybe I can help you find him.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” she replied uncertainly, not in any way accustomed to having conversations with strange men.

“It’s no trouble at all. You look a little stranded, if you want to know the truth. I just wouldn’t feel right leaving you here this way.”

“Well thank you.” She hated the nervous stutter that had crept into her voice but she couldn’t seem to stop it. “In that case I’m looking for a man named Charles. Charles Lively.”

“Oh lord,” he said with a laugh that made her a whole different kind of nervous than she had been before. “Pardon my language, but I was hoping you were going to say that.”

“Were you?  Whatever for?”

“Because,
I’m
Charles Lively. Which I suppose means you’re waiting here for me. And while we’re doing the introductions, we might as well make them complete. This here is Brennen, and I’m sure he’s mighty pleased to meet you, too. I bet he’d tell you sa much if he knew how to talk.”

Meg had hardly even been aware of the man taking her bag and helping her into his wagon. That was when she looked down and saw a large wicker basket and, inside the basket, the plumpest baby boy with the bluest little eyes she had ever seen. Welcome to the Wild West, she thought to herself, hope you’re prepared for the adventure of a lifetime.    

Chapter 4

Things had changed in so many substantial ways for Meg Whitley over the last six weeks. They had changed so completely that still, after a little more than forty days of living on a real live cattle ranch that every morning after waking up, Meg spent a few seconds believing that she was in a dream that she hadn’t quite woken up from yet, at least not all of the way. On the one hand she felt like herself but on the other she felt like someone entirely different. It was a disorienting feeling to be sure, but not in a bad way. She thought that this must be what it was to adapt to change, and if you weren’t changing, moving forward, you weren’t doing much of anything with your life at all.

It wasn’t that things weren’t still difficult, because they were. Meg found things that were difficult each and every day. It was just that they were difficult in a completely different way, a way that felt satisfying instead of inspiring fear. Every morning she woke up and rolled towards her window, looked out at this land that seemed to go on forever. Charles had told her that the land they were living on was called Hill Country, and that she was lucky enough to have a view of some of those rocky hills from where she slept. Sometimes she could see the cows, too, and maybe some of the horses, and then she would roll back over and look at her ceiling for a little while before dressing and going out to help the cook make breakfast (although in truth the cook was helping her; she had slowly, patiently been teaching Meg to cook and she was beyond grateful to finally be learning a skill that was really useful). She would help with anything on the land, and she was thrilled to learn something new every day. Sometimes she would retire to her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon to write Polly a letter, telling her of all of the wonderful new things she was discovering every day.  Even her simple bedroom, the room that Charles had respectfully given her until the two of them were formally married, was more lovely than any room she had ever been able to call her own, and she was deeply grateful for it every day.

Charles. She was grateful for him as well. The more time she spent around him the more she realized that she had never met someone she could truly call a man. In her mind’s eye she could still see his face shining in the midday sun on that first day as he helped her into the wagon and drove her towards her new life. He didn’t look like any man she had ever met, either. He had sandy blonde hair that was longer than he could’ve gotten away with in the north and a perpetual five o'clock shadow that she found strangely mesmerizing. He had deep blue eyes the color of the swimming-hole a mile walk from her new house with small lines around the corner of his eyes, the only giveaway of his twelve year age difference and the work that kept him always beneath the beating sun. He had a genuine smile full of white teeth that always melted her heart a little bit when it flashed in her direction and an easy, calm disposition that washed over her every day and helped her feel more at ease. In short, she was quickly enamored with him, knew that she would never find another place that she would rather be. She only hoped that he felt the same way about her. She believed that he might, but how was she supposed to know for sure? She had never paid much attention to that sort of thing. She had never had any cause to.

“I’m sorry, miss, but is that little Brennen I hear? I only ask because my hearing ain’t what it used to be and I don’t want to let the little prince wail without coming to his aid.”

“It is!  Thank you so much, Margerie. I’m not used to listening for a baby. It’s a bit of a change, I suppose.”

“A bit?  Oh lord, I can’t even imagine. When I had my little ones I was scared out of my mind when I knew they were coming. I think you’ve been handling this better than anyone could’ve expected, if my opinion is worth anything.”

“It’s worth
everything,
” Meg gushed, kissing the older woman on the cheek. Margerie waved her off with one gnarled old hand but Meg could see that she was pleased, and in return that made Meg’s heart sing. This was the kind of relationship she had always longed for with a mother or a grandmother. Who would have thought that she would leave her own mother only to find that closeness she needed all the way across the country? And it was good timing, too, because she wasn’t only preparing to become a wife, she was also getting an accelerated course in how to be the mother to a little one who, six weeks ago, she hadn’t known existed. She squeezed Margerie’s shoulder and then hurried to the nursery, taking a deep breath before opening the door and moving quietly inside.

“Hello sweet baby boy, are you feeling fussy? Are you ready to have someone pay you a little bit of attention?”

She picked the pudgy little bundle of joy up out of his bassinet and held him up in the air in front of her. He stopped crying right away, stuck one fat little hand into his mouth, and looked at her with his wide blue eyes. Those eyes were unnerving, like they could see everything around them for what it really was. But then he moved the little hand and smiled a sweet grin that contained a single tooth and her heart broke open, fell to the floor in a million pieces that she knew could never be put back together again. And that was good. That was how things should be and she knew it now. Her heart would never be the same because it had expanded and every time she looked at this boy who was now to be her stepson it grew a little larger.

“You’re perfect with him.”

Meg turned, pulling Brennen in close to her chest, and smiled shyly at Charles. She hadn’t known that he was there, standing in the doorframe and watching her intently, but now that she saw him she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t felt him there instantaneously. He was covered in dust from a hard day of ranching but the his sweat smelled sweet to her, made her feel flustered and weak in the knees. She lowered her eyes and kissed the top of her new son’s head, hoping the move would somehow hide the blush that she could feel spreading quickly across her face.

“No, not at all. I’ve no real experience with babies. I haven’t spent any time around them.”

“I should have told you. I’d been meaning to tell you that. Should’ve told you already.  And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? But why?”

“Because,” he said, shaking his head and walking slowly towards her, her heart racing faster with each step he took. “I should have let you know what you were getting into before you took that train ride. It wasn’t fair not to. I guess I was just afraid.”

“
Afraid
? I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything. Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that you wouldn’t want to come. Afraid that if you knew how much you would be taking on you would think it was too much, and, if I’m being honest, I liked you too much for that. I didn’t want to lose someone else.”

Although it made her feel ridiculous, Meg could feel her eyes welling up with tears. There were several reasons for that, and the mix of emotions was making it difficult for her to get control of herself again. Part of it was just hearing that she was wanted, that she was
liked
by someone. Having been pursued by her uncle for so many years and listening to her mother’s poisonous whispers in her ear about how no other man would ever love her besides the kind who could pay had gotten to her. Some part of her had believed it was true, but hearing how easily Charles admitted his feelings for her went a long way towards undoing that damage. There was that, and then there was also the sorrow she felt for Charles, for the great loss he had suffered.  Little Baby Brennen was not his. The baby had belonged to Charles’ brother Wesley and Wesley’s wife Miranda. From everything Meg had heard, they had been the most wonderful kind of parents, had doted on their little boy and planned on giving him everything possible in the world. But there had been a fire and that fire had trapped the loving parents in their home.  Thank God for the fact that Charles had taken the baby for the weekend. He had done it to give the new parents some much deserved time to themselves. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could be taking the baby forever. But after Brennan's parents passed away that was exactly what he had done and so when Meg had come to live with him, to marry him, she had walked into an entire new family to call her own. Of course it had been a surprise, but it had been a happy one. An ecstatic one. She wondered if she would ever be able to explain to him how fulfilled she felt by taking on this role. She felt like it was the life she had been born to lead and he had been the one to give it to her, to hand it to her on a silver platter. He had told her when she had first come to live with him that she could have as much time as she needed before they were married, as much time as she needed to be comfortable with the idea. She knew now that she didn’t need any more time at all. She was ready now. She was ready for this life, if he was sure he wanted her, and she wanted it to start as soon as possible. 

“Charles?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m ready.”

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready. I’m ready for our wedding. If you’re sure I’m what you want, that is.”

“If I’m sure? I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Are
you
sure? Are you really?”

“Yes. Yes! It makes me feel like dancing just to think about it.”

“Well then I’ll make the arrangements. You’ve made me very happy, Megan Whitley.  Happier than I’ve been in quite some time.”

              This was the conversation that was playing in her head as she made her way towards town. Charles had insisted that she take one of the wagons, well,
tried
to insist, but Meg had felt like walking, and she could be quite stubborn if the circumstances were right. And these circumstances were. She felt like she was floating on air with the knowledge that she might actually get the happy ending she had always dreamed of but never dared to truly hope for, and being cooped up in a wagon didn’t sound like something that would suit her mood. And so, on this matter, she had gotten her way and was allowed to walk along what passed as a dirt path with her head in her clouds. 

She had made it into the outskirts of town before things started to feel strange. Later she would wonder how much sooner she would have noticed that something was wrong had she not been so distracted with her own happiness. What if she had been paying proper attention to where she was going, what she was doing? What if she had taken the precautions Charles had gone over with her before she had left the ranch? There were probably a thousand ‘what if?’ questions that she would never be able to answer, and in the end it probably didn’t really matter.  Because she had been wandering without paying any attention to what she was doing, by the time she realized that something was wrong, it was too late. She was passing a tavern when the feeling really struck her, and only moments later she felt a thick, meaty hand wrap its unwanted fingers around her upper arm and squeeze. Later, she wished she could say that she had thought quickly on her feet, but what she had
actually
done was freeze. She felt a pounding in her head, like a little man beating it with a mallet, and was overwhelmed by a certain smell. It was a smell she knew, the scent of stale scotch and tobacco. But it
couldn’t
be. She knew that smell from something that was not a part of her life anymore.  There was a voice inside of her that just kept insisting that, over and over again, until the hand on her arm whirled her around and saw that the voice inside of her was wrong.

“Well look at what I’ve found, pretty little Meg, alone in the west. What are you doing here, pretty little Meg? Have you gone and gotten yourself lost?”

“Uncle-- Uncle
Jack
. What? I don’t understand. What are you doing here? How on earth did you
find
me?”

Meg’s mind was reeling. She had finally allowed herself to believe that those dark days of the life she had led under her mother’s thumb were over, and here he was, Uncle Jack, come to haunt her like any self-respecting poltergeist would. His ugly, mean face leered down at her as he began to steer her towards one of the less reputable saloons. Meg could feel a blind panic beginning to beat against the inside of her chest. He was much too strong for her to fight off but the last thing she wanted was to enter than filthy building. She had heard rumblings about the saloon in question amongst some of the younger, rougher men who worked on Charles’ ranch and none of them were particularly good. It wasn’t just that the clientele consisted of some of the rougher, more derelict members of the fine town. The tavern also served as a boarding house, one for wayward travelers and prostitutes alike. It was not a place she wanted to be, least of all with Jack Whitley. She was afraid that if she went through those garishly painted front doors she might never make it back to the ranch where her future awaited.

“Wait, Uncle Jack, I don’t want to. Please, couldn’t we just talk out here?”

“You better get used to just calling me Jack without the uncle in front of it.  It would be a little strange if you were to call your husband uncle, now wouldn’t it?”

He did not look at her while he spoke and did not slow down at all. She began to pull against his arm, but it wasn’t any use. She was no match for him. Despite her grit and determination, he was pulling her along with depressing ease. He was just too big, too un-afraid of hurting her to get what he wanted, and in no time flat she was sitting on a filthy bar stool next to a man she loathed. She wanted to keep hope alive in her heart, but she was growing increasingly despondent from one moment to the next. She didn’t understand why this was happening. She could not fathom what had happened to allow her uncle to find her so many miles away from home.