Lauri Robinson - Winning The Mail-Order Bride

As her gaze went to the window, to the quiet darkness emitting nothing except a single star in the faraway sky, Fiona knew she couldn’t blame her sleeplessness on the bed, or even on her body’s reaction to spending the evening with a handsome man.

She was scared. Scared she’d made the wrong choice.

Brett’s kindness, how he’d shared his fish and eggs with them, should be looked upon as a sign of what the others in the community were like. How she and the boys would be welcomed. Instead, she was comparing him to Josiah. Weighing Brett’s welcome against Josiah’s. Everything inside her said the differences would continue, and that made her fear what was to come in the next few days. And the years after that.

She’d had practice in that area. Comparing men. As Sam had changed, she had too. She’d started to compare herself to other women—how happy and satisfied they were in their lives to how she felt. That was when she’d started to compare their husbands to Sam. Not just in attractiveness, but how they treated their wives. Her hope had been to find a man who would treat her and her sons with compassion and kindness this time, and she greatly feared that hadn’t happened.

Would life be better for her children here? It had seemed that way in Ohio. That moving away was their only chance to find something different. She’d lost all hope back there and was having a hard time finding any tonight. Or of finding any peace in believing she’d done what had to be done, any optimism in believing she had the strength to continue upon this path she’d chosen.

She wasn’t a weak or frail woman. Hard work had never worried her, and her faith had never failed her, yet it was none of those things that lingered in the back of her mind right now. It was her. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a mayor. Of a man so prominent. More than that, though, was her worry of how Josiah would treat her children. He’d shown no compassion or understanding for what they had been through before leaving Ohio nor shown any concern about their arrival in a strange place. Not even when it came to their hunger.

She’d had to be strong her entire life and had hoped that would change here. That the man she’d promised to wed would be her shelter against the storm that had raged upon her for so long. Life had worn her out, and she was tired of being tired. Tired of fighting the battle by herself.

Perhaps she was just being selfish and just needed time to get to know Josiah better.

The bed creaked as Wyatt shifted.

Lying on her side in order to leave as much space for the boys as possible, Fiona twisted to look over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” she whispered as he slipped off the bed.

“To sleep on the floor,” he said.

“No, Wyatt, you—”

“It won’t be any worse than the train,” he said, gathering one of the blankets.

“I’ll—”

“No, Ma, I will sleep on the floor.”

He was stubborn, especially when he set his mind to something. Pulling the pillow out from beneath her head, she handed it to him. “Take this pillow too.”

“No. You need that one. Rhett’s using the other one. I’ll be fine.” A thump and shuffling sounded as he settled onto the floor. “I’ll be right here, so don’t worry, Ma. Get yourself some sleep.”

Curled up near her feet, Rhett was using the other pillow, and tears burned her eyes as she replaced the pillow beneath her head. For all his orneriness lately, Wyatt was still a good boy at heart and had taken it upon himself to be the man of the family ever since Sam had died. “Good night, honey.”

“Night.” Silence barely had time to settle when he asked, “Do you think Brett would give me a job, Ma? He owns both the feed store and the blacksmith shop.”

Brett did own both businesses, and she’d already witnessed enough to believe he was generous enough to give anyone a job. Yet she couldn’t tell that to Wyatt. “You’re too young for a job.”

“No, I’m not, and if Brett gave me one, you wouldn’t need to marry the mayor.”

Fiona closed her eyes to gather any invisible strength still hiding somewhere inside her. “Yes, I would,” she whispered. “I gave him my word. I can’t go back on that.” She pinched her lips together and dug deep enough to say, “Besides, I want to marry Mr. Melbourne.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, Wyatt, I do.”

“Don’t see how you can when he don’t like none of us.”

“He never said—”

“He didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes. He thinks we’re thieves. Thinks Pa was a thief too. Just like the folks in Ohio did.”

As hard as she’d tried to keep the children from hearing what had happened to their father, they had heard. Knew Sam had been with the Morgan brothers when they’d tried robbing the train. Knew he’d been shot while trying to get away. He’d made it home. Died in their bed. Therefore, everyone in town had thought she’d known what he’d been up to. Thought she could very well have been a participant. She hadn’t been. Hadn’t known what he and the Morgans had conjured up, but few had believed that.

No one had been more shocked by what had happened than she was. Sam had never stooped to such dire actions before. Things had never been easy, money had always been tight, but they’d managed. Somehow they had always managed. Losing his job at the refinery the year before had devastated Sam. Changed him. In ways she couldn’t explain, nor had she liked who he’d become. Always angry. Always blaming others for things that truly hadn’t mattered. Including her and the boys.

She swiped aside a single tear and drew a deep breath. “Your father was not a thief. He made a mistake. A terrible mistake. One he paid dearly for. You go to sleep now. And no more talking about jobs.”

Fiona felt more than heard Wyatt roll over, face away from the bed, and she had to pinch her nose to stop from sniffling as tears rolled down her cheeks. A part of her hated Sam for the pain he’d caused them. Her and Wyatt and Rhett. And for the disgrace they’d encountered. The hatred and scorn that had been bestowed upon them had been unbearable. Leaving Ohio had been the best choice, her only choice, and without Josiah’s offer, without his paying for the tickets, it would never have happened. If for no other reason than that, she would stand by her promise and marry Josiah Melbourne.

* * *

As usual, Brett rose at the break of dawn and set a pot of coffee to brew on the stove. It was Sunday, and the few chores he had to do—feeding and cleaning up after the team of horses he used to pull his wagon and kept housed in the barn connected to his blacksmith shop—wouldn’t take long. Never did. He missed having more to do in the mornings. Back home there had been cows to milk, hogs to slop, eggs to gather, chicks to feed, water to haul. All sorts of things. There was room in his barn and on his property to have more critters, but seeing he didn’t need them with just him to feed, he figured he’d wait until he had a family before acquiring anything more than the set of buckskin horses.

After pouring a cup of coffee, he glanced around the room and sighed. Washing dishes had never been something he enjoyed. It was just a chore that needed to be done, but last night it had been more than a task. Drying the dishes while Fiona washed them had been enjoyable. Even though he wondered if he’d asked too many questions, especially when he’d enquired about her husband. He hadn’t meant to pry but had been curious and had wanted to know more about her. Still did.

If he breathed deep enough, he could almost smell flowers again. And looking at her, well, that in itself was enjoyable. Especially when she smiled. It was like watching a bird take flight, gracefully opening its wings to catch the wind. Despite how beautiful her smile had been, it seemed almost rusty. Like she hadn’t used it very often. If he could change one thing about her, that would be it. Actually, that was the only thing that needed to be changed about her—her smile. It needed to become well used. Never leave her face.