Forgotten Mail-Order Bride Read online

  Her temper started to rise again. A new ranch house would have been tolerable, because she could have stayed in the old one. Helen had the gall to suggest to Jacob he pull down the old house and use the timber for the new place. With the money they saved, they could buy nice furniture.

  I’ll ride home, write the letter and post it in time for the morning mail coach. She never went to the diner now Helen worked there. The woman would probably poison her food to get rid of her permanently. They both detested each other and made no effort to hide it. The only honest thing about Helen, was her outward show of hatred to her soon to be sister-in-law.

  She had turned Jacob against her by saying she was greedy and selfish and wanted the ranch all to herself, which was a lie. They had once been close, even though her brother was eight years older than her twenty-one years. Not anymore. Sadness weighed her down just thinking about what they had lost because of a selfish, upstart of a woman who drifted into town from goodness only knew where and sunk her hooks into Jacob.

  Mounting Audrey, she kneed the mare into motion and left town, waving to a few of the locals as she did so. Fortunately, most of them had not listened to the lies Helen had spread about her being nasty, dishonest, lazy, and living off her brother.

  She fumed as she rode along. Stop it, or you’ll end up having a nervous attack.

  This Rowan sounded all right. He could prove to be a life saver if they were compatible. To get away from Helen, she would happily move to Mountview.

  Chapter Three

  A month after Aunt Gertie’s funeral Rowan received a letter from Miranda Kingston in Twisted Creek, with an enclosed note from Bob.

  He sat down in his favorite armchair with a cup of coffee to read it. Hopefully, it would take his mind off his worries. Poor George had not been well, and it grieved him to think the old man was feeling so poorly.

  Unfolding Bob’s letter, he read through it, brief and to point. His cousin had never believed in procrastinating.

  As he opened Miranda Kingston’s letter, he was shocked to see a slight tremor to his hands.

  Dear Rowan,

  I might as well call you this and you can address me as Miranda, no point in wasting time. Sheriff Bob mentioned you were thinking about taking a bride.

  It was a bit of an exaggeration, but he liked that Miranda was happy to disperse with useless niceties and get straight down to business.

  I guess you would like to know what I look like?

  You betcha I would. He might want a wife but was not desperate enough to be lumbered with some hag of a woman, no other man wanted. He did have his pride.

  I am twenty-one years old. I have green eyes and dark brown hair. I am about five feet three inches in height. My brother used to say I was pretty, but not since he fell for a scheming woman who wants me off the ranch so she can have him all to herself.

  I will be honest with you. I am looking for somewhere else to live as it would be impossible for me to share a house with her. I dislike her and the feeling is mutual. When Bob suggested my becoming a mail-order bride, I scoffed at it to begin with, now I think it might be a good idea. There are no men in Twisted Creek I would care to marry.

  She was certainly honest. He was starting to warm to her already. He hated deception. Why paint a rosy picture if it wasn’t true?

  I am a virtuous, God-fearing woman who doesn’t mind hard work. In fact, I am used to it. Ever since I can remember, I have helped out on the ranch, so there are very few chores I am unable to do. I can cook and keep house as my mother died when I was ten and I have been taking care of pa and my brother ever since.

  If you are not interested in me, please say so. If you are interested, I would like to know more about you and the ranch where you live. Don’t feel obligated because Bob recommended me, as I am not destitute and would be capable of looking after myself if I had to.

  Yours faithfully,

  Miranda Kingston

  He put the letter to one side while he took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. He liked the sound of this gal. She didn’t seem to be a clingy, hot-house flower type. He was too busy to put up with rubbish like that.

  He glanced around his cabin. His sitting room and kitchen were combined, but it did have a separate bedroom, and at the end of the back porch he had built a washing room. The walls were unlined, and there were no curtains on the windows, even so, it was a snug log cabin. The loft area was yet to be filled in, something he could easily do when it was needed. No reason for a woman to turn her nose up at his home. He was proud of building it almost single-handedly.

  It was a good place to live and bring up a family. They were only three miles out of Mountview, another bonus to his way of thinking.

  He stepped over to his dresser to retrieve his writing materials. He had to go into town tomorrow so if he had the letter written it would be a good time to post it. He was starting to become fed up with Edward, arrogant young fool. If he had not been George’s son, he would have refused to show him how the ranch worked. As for Edward’s wife Dorothea, she was trouble if ever he saw it.

  “I’m relying on you, Rowan, now I’m not doing so good,” George kept saying. “I want Edward to learn from the best, which is you.”

  Dear Miranda,

  He chewed on the end of the pencil.

  You do sound like the kind of gal I would be interested in having a future with. Bob’s recommendation about you character has certainly allayed many of the fears I had about taking such a drastic step as this.

  I am thirty-three years old. Never been married. I am nearly six feet tall, have brown hair and blue eyes. I am fit and healthy, and if I do say so myself, this ranch is a slice of paradise. My house is comfortable but does need a woman’s touch to make it a home to be honest.

  Except for Bob, I have no living relatives.

  I make a good living out of the ranch and can afford to keep a wife in comfort. Other than housekeeping duties, you can do as little or as much as you like of ranch chores. The ranch is only three miles out of Mountview, and if you can ride, and I presume you can, you could easily go into town even if I was too busy to take you.

  My need is not urgent, but I would like to get things started between us as soon as possible.

  Yours sincerely,

  Rowan.

  He read it through, and it sounded okay. Like Miranda, he had tried to be honest. He slipped the letter in the envelope and addressed it ready to take into town tomorrow.

  ***

  Three days after she had posted her letter to Rowan Carstairs, her brother Jacob stomped into the kitchen where she was having a cup of coffee. “Do you want one?”

  “No. What do you mean by being rude and abusive to Helen?”

  “Rude? Abusive? Are you crazy? I haven’t seen her since Monday.”

  “It’s Monday I’m talking about. I won’t put up with it, Miranda. Helen and I are getting married and you will just have to like it or go and live somewhere else.”

  “I own half of this ranch don’t forget, and the likes of her is not forcing me out of my home. What’s happened to you, Jacob? You’re letting her drag you around like a rag doll.”

  “You’ll push me too far, one of these days,” he growled.

  “For your information.” She got up from the chair and stared him straight in the face. “I didn’t even speak to her, when we passed in the main street, so how could she say I was abusive?”

  “Why don’t you get yourself married,” he snapped. “That’s if any man would have you.”

  Couldn’t he see Helen was deliberately driving a wedge between them? She had seen her in the street all right. They hadn’t spoken because Helen’s nose was stuck so high in the air, she was lucky to be able to walk without tripping over.

  “I won’t be in for supper. I’m taking Helen to the hotel for a meal.”

  “Fine with me, saves cooking. I’ll fry myself a couple of eggs. Don’t forget we have to move those cows and their calves out of the back pasture.”
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  She only hoped Rowan would write back soon, things were becoming intolerable here. She had often wondered where Helen had come from. She never spoke about her family, not even to Jacob. She had once asked him what he knew about his intended bride and he had admitted virtually nothing except she was born in Canada. And he didn’t see anything strange about it? He was blinded by what he thought was her beauty.

  Men would find her attractive enough she supposed; few would put up with such spiteful behavior like he did. Surely, he must have seen it. He could not be so blinded by love, or maybe she had kept her true personality hidden from him.

  Almost time for the milking. She had never minded this chore. In the cold weather the cow’s teats would warm up her hands. In her father’s time they had a herd of milking cows and sold the milk to Otto, their Swiss neighbor, who used to make special cheese from it. Something to do with the type of grass that grew on sections of their ranch, he used to say.

  After their father died, she and Jacob had decided to do away with the dairy cows, it was too time consuming with just the two of them. Beef cattle brought the most money in and it didn’t tie them down so much. Those early morning milking sessions were hard, especially in the bitter winter cold.

  Wandering outside she stared out over the distant tree covered mountains. She loved living here. It would almost kill her if she had to leave. If Jacob did pull the house down to use the timber for a new one, maybe she could find lodging in town and come out here on a daily basis. As long as she didn’t run into Helen, she could cope up with that. Maybe it would be better than marrying Rowan Carstairs. If only the man would hurry up and write she would be better able to gauge his character. If he had his own spread, he sure wouldn’t want to move here. On the other hand, Mountview was good ranching country. It all depended on what he wrote in his letter.

  What if he didn’t like the sound of her? Surely, he would have the decency to write and say so as a matter of courtesy. She could have told him a little more about herself, but why should she when the letter had only been a tentative feeler as to what he thought and needed.

  How humiliating if Bob had got it wrong and his cousin was now not in the market for a wife? Maybe he had found a woman himself?

  Chapter Four

  Rowan fumed as he strode up to the main house. The absolute cheek of that Dorothea woman snooping around inside his cabin while he was away. George was slumped in a wicker chair but straightened up when he spotted him.

  “Rowan what are you doing here?” George’s query was interrupted by a spasm of coughing. There was no doubt about it, the man’s chest problems were getting worse.

  “Look, George.” He sat on the edge of the porch. “I don’t like to worry you when you’re not well. Can you get Edward to speak to Dorothea? I came home early today and found her snooping around inside my cabin.”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t snooping.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she was up to. Why go in there anyway?” He was so mad he could have swallowed a horn toad backward. He detested the woman, but surely, expecting her to respect his privacy wasn’t unreasonable.

  “I’ll tell her.” George gave a weary sigh. Over the last week his health had markedly deteriorated. “My sister wants me to go to Colorado Springs and live with her there. The mineral water and climate are supposed to be good for people with chest problems.”

  “You always said they would have to carry you away from this ranch feet first.” Rowan forced a laugh.

  “Now Edward is back to take over, well, I do feel a little better about leaving things in his hands.”

  What about my hands, he nearly said. “Edward still has a lot to learn yet.”

  “I know, but you’ll be here to guide him.” Suddenly Rowan remembered what Bob had said.

  “I was wondering whether I should have something in writing about my cabin and the land it’s on.”

  He hated seeing the hurt expression passing across George’s face. “There’s no need for you to worry, Edward knows all about it, and is happy for things to continue as they are. He needs your help right now.”

  And what happens when he doesn’t need my help?

  “How’s the new bull calf doing?” The old man changed the topic.

  “He’s doing well now,” Rowan said.

  “It will improve our bloodline no end when he’s able to breed.” George’s comment was followed by a coughing fit.

  “I know.” And Edward had whined about how much the pedigree bull cost.

  “Do you want me to go over the accounts?” Rowan asked. “I could take the books home with me.”

  “Thanks, don’t worry about it. Edward will do it. He can get a bit of use out of the university education I paid a stack of money for.”

  “Okay, I’ll be off. I have to go to town tomorrow and see the feed merchant.” Not to mention posting his letter to Miranda Kingston. “Do you need anything?” Once, he would have asked George’s advice about mail-order brides, as he had always valued the older man’s opinion. Now, he somehow felt uncomfortable doing so.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay. Catch you later.” Rowan strode off. He had read about the medicinal value of the mineral waters in Colorado Springs. Maybe it was what George needed. If he went there for a few months, it could do him the world of good. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know anyone there. His sister and her husband ran a hotel catering for wealthy people who visited in the hopes the healthy climate and spring waters would cure their consumption.

  ***

  Two weeks after Miranda wrote her letter to Rowan Carstairs, she called in at the mercantile which also acted as an agency for the mail. A good thing about Twisted Creek, the mail coach called in every couple of days.

  “I’ve got a letter for you,” Alf said. “I wonder who it’s from?”

  “How should I know? I’ll have to open it and find out.”

  “You can do it here if you like.”

  And have you peering over my shoulder. Alf was a bigger gossip than his wife and she certainly didn’t want her private business being blabbed all over town. If it was a letter from Rowan, it was between her and him, well, Sheriff Bob too under the circumstances. She trusted the sheriff not to breathe a word about it.

  A quick glance at the bold handwriting on the envelope and she knew, even before turning it over to read the address on the back, it came from Rowan.

  “Who did you say it was from?” Alf persisted.

  “I didn’t. I’ll see you in a couple of days, I’ll have our usual order to put in.” She walked out of the store feeling as if Alf’s eyes were boring holes in her back. What an old sticky-beak he was. It was humiliating enough writing to a strange man, without having it spread around town about her contemplating becoming a mail-order bride.

  She called in to see Sheriff Bob on her way home. It was the right thing to do to let him know his cousin had written back. “Howdy, Bob.”

  “Howdy, yourself. He was grinning from ear to ear. “What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing really. You look pleased with yourself. Someone die and leave you a couple of hundred dollars?”

  “Nope. I’ll be leaving here within the week.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve trained the deputy up and he’s keen to take over, so I’ll be off to Wyoming and Lotte.”

  “I’ll be sorry to see you go,” she said sincerely. “I wish you every happiness.”

  “Thanks. I want to leave here quickly without any fuss. What did you want to see me about?”

  “I received a reply from Rowan and thought I would let you know.”

  “Good, is he interested?”

  “I haven’t read the letter yet. Alf at the mercantile wanted me to open it there, can you believe it? He would have been hanging over my shoulder reading every word, then he would spread it far and wide - Miranda Kingston is so desperate for a husband she has to become a mail-order bride.”

  “Who cares what anyone thinks, it’s
your business what you do. Yours and Rowan’s.”

  “Maybe he’s writing to say he isn’t interested.” Her heart dropped to her boots. “I did tell him to write and tell me if he wasn’t interested.”

  “He’ll be interested.”

  Miranda’s hands trembled as she slid her nail under the envelope flap and took out the single page of writing and glanced at it. “He is interested in writing so we can get to know each other before we decide whether to wed or not.”

  “Sounds good. I told you he’d be interested.”

  “Do you want to read it, Bob?”

  “Of course not. I’m pleased to know you are going to start corresponding with each other. He would be a fine man for you.”

  “I hope so, early days yet. In case I don’t get to see you before you leave. I wish you every happiness Bob, you and Lotte. Keep in touch with Rowan, won’t you? I’m sure he will want to know how things go.”

  “We do correspond occasionally. Once I get settled, I’ll write to him and give him the address. We haven’t made up our mind whether to sell Lotte’s farm and buy something a little larger. There’s no rush, I guess. Goodbye, Miranda and good luck.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

  She swung away to hide the tears springing to her eyes. She would miss Sheriff Bob, the whole town would. He had been a trusted confidant for her now she thought about it.

  If Helen had not been working at the diner, Miranda would have called in and bought a coffee and a slice of apple pie. I would rather drink water out of the gutter than go anywhere near that woman. She had never thought of herself as a nasty, vindictive person before. In fact, she had liked virtually everyone in town until Helen arrived on the scene. It distressed her to think of Jacob falling for such a witch.

  Pa would be rolling over in his grave at his son’s choice of a wife. He had always hoped his son would marry one of the neighboring rancher’s daughters. At least they would know how a ranch worked and would be an asset to him. Helen wouldn’t know a cow from a horse.