Janet Tronstad - Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set - Her Christmas Family / Christmas Stars for Dry Creek / Home for Christmas / Snowflakes for Dry Creek / Christmas Hearts / Mistletoe Kiss in Dry Creek

She hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that she searched the shadows, she saw the room was lined with exquisite furniture. Polished Georgian-style settees with rose brocade upholstery and mahogany legs carved in graceful arches. A pair of Louis XVI chairs. Matching side tables with crystal-cut lanterns on them and small silver bowls that she knew were waiting for calling cards and fresh flowers. She’d never expected to find a room like this out here in the territories.

“You must have sent back East for everything.” She couldn’t gesture because she still held Violet in her arms, but she nodded her head toward the furniture. Lined up straight against the walls, it rivaled what she had seen in the homes that she had cleaned in Boston.

“Steamboat to Fort Benton,” Noah said as turned back from his position by the fireplace. “Then mule-drawn wagon to here.”

Maeve was so surprised by everything along the walls that her eyes hadn’t made their way to the half circle of furniture near where Noah stood.

“You can lie your daughter down here,” Noah said with a gesture toward a wooden bench. “If she’s quiet enough that she doesn’t still need you to hold her.”

Maeve blinked, not sure she was seeing things clearly. The more intimate grouping of furniture in front of the fireplace was crudely made. She thought her eyesight was deceiving her until Noah bent over to light a kerosene lantern and the chairs were completely visible.

She had been right. The furniture was what a frontier house would contain—various pieces of unmatched wood, forced together to make a chair or a table, with no thought to beauty or grace. The pieces were not smooth or built to last. Even the lantern looked modest when compared to the crystal globes sitting on the edges of the room.

If it wasn’t obvious that the inner circle of chairs was what the man used regularly, Maeve would have been insulted to be led toward such a humble bench in the presence of the outer line of magnificence. She sat down slowly. Violet was heavy in her arms and Maeve hoped she would doze off to sleep.

There would be more time to explore this unusual house in the morning. She wondered if the other parts of the house had this same look of being held back like the occupant was waiting for something to happen before anything was used. She pondered the puzzle of it all for a moment until a realization came to her—of course, the furniture had been for his wife. He’d said she left, but maybe he was hoping she’d come back. Most people, Maeve knew, would sell such fine pieces of furniture if they weren’t going to use them.

She looked up to see Noah closing the ivory lace curtains on the room and putting enough wood on the fire to make a small blaze. He then excused himself to go help the men unload the wagon. He gave Violet a sympathetic look before he left the room, but he didn’t ask any questions.

The flames from the fire began to slowly warm the air, but Maeve kept the blankets wrapped around her daughter. It had been a tiring day for everyone. More questions had been asked than answered.

She wondered how she and her children were going to be able to live here with a man who had been so in love with his wife that he couldn’t marry another woman. In fact, he couldn’t even sit on the chairs he’d bought for that woman and likely wouldn’t ever sell them since he was hoping she’d come back.

Of course, Maeve thought with a rueful smile to herself, those were only his problems.

She had troubles of her own. A dozen booted men were going back and forth to where she assumed the kitchen was. All of them had beards of some length. A few of them had scars. She expected they all carried knives and some had pistols. Violet might start screaming every time one of these ranch hands crossed her path. The sheer number of men they would be around had not been something Maeve had considered.

She reminded herself that she’d had no other option but to come here. It was this or begging for bread on the streets of Boston. No one ever found enough to survive for long that way. And Violet would likely end up in an orphanage and Maeve in the poorhouse with the baby.

So, she told herself, it was pointless to berate herself for not making a better choice. She’d taken the only path she could.

She bent her head in exhaustion just thinking about the days she had before her, though.

Lord, give me strength, she managed to pray. She could not go further. Her feelings for God had suffered when it had seemed everything had lined up against her in Boston. Some people reported sensing God’s care for them in hard times, but all she had felt was an overwhelming silence. It was as if God had been as disappointed in her as her husband must have been to do the things he’d done.

When she’d heard from Noah, she’d begun to think God had decided to be in her life again. And now that future was uncertain.

She had given up any hope of love, but she had believed she would find respect in a new marriage. With God’s help, that would be enough for a good life.

She blushed wondering what the ranch hands must think about her now. Noah had said it all very politely, but it was clear that he had called off the wedding, hoping she would grow weary and say she no longer wanted to marry him.

She could only bless the men’s hearts for their clear disappointment. They, at least, wanted her to stay. Noah might, too, she assured herself, once he saw how useful she could be.

She heard footsteps and knew Noah was coming back through the hallway. His steps were different from those of the other men. They sounded more confident. Maybe a little quicker. Heavier.

“How long have you had it like this?” Maeve asked when Noah reached the open doorway.

When he didn’t answer, she continued, “The wood on these chairs needs to be polished or it will crack and ruin.”

“I don’t have time to be polishing the furniture.”

“I can do it,” Maeve offered. After her years working in Boston, there wasn’t much she didn’t know about caring for expensive furniture. “You want to keep it nice for—”

Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to say the words indicating he was saving the furniture for when his wife returned, but she had no other theory to offer.

Maeve looked down. Her daughter was lying on the bench, with her head in Maeve’s lap.

She could feel the man looking at her so she glanced up.

“You must like European furniture,” she finished. “It’s beautiful.”

“Neither,” Noah said with a smile. “I bought it to show myself I could.”

Maeve wondered how much money the man had.

A dozen men had marched back and forth to the kitchen carrying things past the doorway. Most of the supplies were still coming, but she saw a couple of big bags carried to the back of the house. From the sounds of the steps, two men carried her trunk to the end of the hall. She suspected they had taken it to the bedroom, but the warmth from the fire was making her toes tingle and she didn’t want to walk down the hall to see.

She looked around. Back East, she’d rented the smallest room she could find. It had had a bed, two chairs and a stove for heating. She’d barely been able to afford that. This parlor alone was three times the size of her room. She’d brought some of her doilies with her, the ones she’d crocheted for her first wedding. They’d faded over the years and she would be ashamed to even put them out in this house.

She watched as Noah walked out of the room.

He turned and said, “The downstairs bedroom is at the end of the hall. The men are finished unpacking. They’ll be leaving in a minute. Don’t worry about waking up early. Dakota will be cooking for the men.”