Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (10 page)
Authors: Jillian Hart
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to my third novella with fellow author and good friend, Janet Tronstad. We had such a great time writing our previous mail-order-bride stories, how could we not do it one more time? We met in Missoula, Montana, on a sunny September day to discuss, brainstorm and create the ideas for our stories. What a fun time we had! Once again, our heroines meet on the westbound train and become friends while riding the rails, wondering how their lives will turn out as mail-order brides. My heroine, Mercy, has decided to accept a convenient marriage, one without the chance of love because of her young son, George. He wants a father so badly and Cole Matheson, her husband-to-be, is very much looking forward to having a son. The problem? Cole has no heart to give her, for his has been shattered by grief. Can happily-ever-after prevail? I hope you enjoy this Christmas tale where God's love heals.
Thank you for choosing
Christmas Hearts.
Wishing you peace, joy and love this holiday season,
Questions for Discussion
1. What was your first impression of Cole? How would you describe him? What do you like most about his character?
2. How would you describe Mercy and Cole's first meeting? What did you learn about her character? What makes you care for Cole?
3. What do you feel for Amelia? What do you like most about her? What do you feel for George? What do you like most about him?
4. When did you know for sure that God meant for Mercy to be Amelia's mother? That she and Cole are meant to be together?
5. What is the story's predominant imagery? How does it contribute to the meaning of the story? Of the romance?
6. Do you see God at work in this story? What meanings do you find there?
7. How would you describe Mercy's faith? Cole's faith?
8. What do you think Mercy and Cole have each learned about love?
Mistletoe Kiss in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
I am grateful for the many who prayed for my sister, Margaret, when she was ill with cancer. She is now dancing in heaven with Jesus, but your prayers made her feel so loved here
on
earth. Thank you.
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
âHebrews
13:2
Chapter One
Montana
Territory
December 20, 1886
W
ith her wool shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders, Maeve Flanagan stepped off the passenger car onto the railroad platform in Miles City and stopped suddenly. She and her four-year-old daughter, Violet, had watched the swirling snow as the train rolled west last night before finally entering the desolate prairie of the Montana Territory. Watching the storm this morning hadn't prepared her for the icy wind that hit her face when she climbed down to the platform, though. It was worse than any gale off the bay in Boston. She lifted the shawl to warm her cheeks. Maybe she had been a fool, trying to escape her past by traveling so far from home to marry a stranger.
Putting her hand over her stomach in an unconscious effort to shield the life that grew within her, she reminded herself that she'd had no other choice. She'd feel better when she met Noah Miller and stood in front of a preacher with him.
Of course, he might refuse to marry her when he found out about the baby.
She hadn't known for sure that she was increasing until the week she received the train tickets. It seemed indelicate to inform Noah of her condition by telegram, especially when she might be wrong. Besides, she wanted him to have time to be charmed by Violet before she said anything. If he liked one child, he'd probably be agreeable to another. She did not know what she'd do if he didn't want them. Infant or no infant, she had nothing left in Boston.
Maeve put a hand up to keep her hat on her head before doing her best to look around. She'd tell Noah of the baby as soon as she could and certainly before they said their vows. He knew she was a recent widow; the baby brought no shame to her. Searching the area, she saw that two rows of painted wood buildings lined the main street of this frontier town. Directly across from her, the Broadwater, Bubble and Company Mercantile had an imposing sign that was visible even in this storm.
Snow had partially turned to hail and caused the few people standing on the store walkways to move inside. Those on the railroad platform huddled together in small groups. The sounds of the horses and wagons that were being driven on the street in front of them gave a faint rhythm to the steady howl of the wind. Maeve didn't see any man standing by himself so Noah must not be here to meet them.
Maeve shivered before turning to the opening behind her and used both hands to reach for her daughter. The train had been early, she assured herself. Noah would be here soon. She would not allow herself to think of any other possibility.
“Cover your head, sweetie.” She took the shawl off her shoulders and wrapped it around Violet. The child's thin coat wouldn't keep her warm in the wind. Maeve then swung the girl off the train and moved them both to the side so the next person could exit.
Ash and cinders from the train's smokestack fell with the hail. Maeve kept her arm around her daughter as she looked around the platform more intently. Violet was snug under the shawl, but Maeve's gray wool dress, while her best and the only one made for this kind of weather, did not do much to stop the cold. She couldn't stand out here in the wind for long.
She searched the area again, trying not to worry. When Noah had sent for her, she had wept in relief. She had left her rented room in Boston the day her money had run out and boarded the train to arrive here. God was giving her a second chance. She had begun to wonder if He had abandoned her forever.
Now, she carried a copy of Noah's ad in her Bible. The ad read:
Passable cook wanted as wife to Montana Territory rancher. Marriage in name only. Must be able to serve up three meals a day for ten to twenty cowboys. Mature widow preferred. Rail fare provided. Separate quarters.
Maeve wouldn't recognize Noah if he was standing in front of her. He had told her he lived near Dry Creek, a growing ranch area some distance from Miles City. But hadn't said anything about his appearance in the one letter he'd written after she answered his ad. Every man she knew bragged about himself, and Noah's silence in the matter had given her pause. He was probably short and portly. She had wondered about him offering separate quarters until she realized he might be hideously disfigured and wanted his privacy.
No matter, Maeve had told herself firmly at the time. For all that she was only twenty-five-years old, she was long past girlish dreams. She didn't need her pulse to quicken with romance at the sight of her husband. She needed a home for her family. As long as Noah was a good man, they would get along.
Suddenly, Maeve noticed that the wind wasn't blowing. She turned and saw a man standing behind her with a blanket spread high in his extended arms to stop the onslaught of hail. She was tall at nearly six feet, but this man stood at least three inches higher. He was fit, too. His legs were firmly braced on the wooden platform as he stood against the wind with the blanket flapping behind him.
“Flanagan?” the man demanded to know. Snow and pebbles of ice covered the brim of his Stetson hat, but she could tell from his beard that his hair was dark. His eyes were moss-green and seemed steady. Not friendly exactly, but not stern, either.
Maeve nodded as her heart raced. He was neither old nor short. From what she could see of it, his face was strong and probably appealing under his whiskers. Her friend Mercy Jacobs, with whom she'd traveled on the train, had warned her that men in the West were not as refined as those back East, but the man standing in front of her was close to perfect. He might have a beard, but it was trimmed. He didn't need to place an ad asking for a wife. Surely women around here would line up to be courted by this man.
Before she could say anything, the man brought the blanket down over her shoulders and Maeve realized how very cold she had been, standing there shivering. She needed to take better care of herself now that she knew about the baby.
Just then another strong gust of wind hit her, threatening once again to dislodge the old black wool hat she'd securely pinned over her copper hair. She didn't have a chance to put her hand up before the man took the blanket from her shoulders and draped it over her head, hat and all.
“There,” he said as though he'd accomplished something. “We better get going before this storm gets any worse. I need to get back to the ranch and we have to stop by the mercantile and then the church.”
He took her arm and looked ready to walk away.
“Butâ” Maeve burst out and stepped back. The blanket kept her face in shadows and she couldn't see well. “Violet.”
The cover shifted as she turned and, through the opening around her face, she saw his bewildered expression. Maeve had answered a half dozen other ads and none of the men wanted a woman with a daughter. A healthy son could be of some help, they had all said, but not a daughter. She hadn't known she was pregnant when she answered those ads so she hadn't mentioned a baby, but when it came time to answer Noah's ad she had simply said she had one child.
He had not asked whether it was a boy or girl or how old the child was; he had just sent two train tickets. At the time, she had thought the man was tolerant and willing to accept any child.
“My daughter,” Maeve added as she bent over to tuck her shawl more firmly around Violet. Now that she was here it felt unseemly to mention the babe growing inside her until she and Noah had looked each other in the eyes and smiled in acknowledgment of the bond they were contemplating.
“Oh,” Noah said as though he'd forgotten she even had family.
“She won't be any trouble,” Maeve said quietly as she drew the girl closer to her and stepped even with Noah. She was beginning to realize that he had not been kind earlier but, instead, indifferent. She felt a chill go through her that had nothing to do with the storm. She adjusted the blanket, but kept it wrapped around her head. She wished he looked less handsome and more welcoming.
Violet pulled away slightly and Maeve thought it was because the girl sensed her own growing dismay over the man. But then her daughter turned and pointed at something behind them.
Maeve followed Violet's finger. Mercy and her son were knocking on the train window to get their attention. They were on their way farther west to Angel Falls, where Mercy's future husband waited for them.
“My friend,” Maeve said by way of explanation to Noah as she lifted her arm in a wave. She and Mercy had said their farewells on the train and Maeve hadn't expected a chance to do so again. They'd promised to write, but she was glad to see her friend's face.
“We don't have time,” Noah said impatiently.
“Go-odbye,” Violet stuttered as she whispered and waved shyly.
Maeve stood up straighter. Her daughter's trouble with speaking, like the nightmares, had started after seeing her father stabbed to death. Her late husband had taken Violet to some waterfront bar, telling her to stay in the corner, and then he'd sat down and proceeded to be inappropriate with a young lady whose irate father had found them and confronted him. The two men had fought, a full brawl breaking out that had involved the other patrons, and it had all ended badly for her husband. Maeve grieved that he had died, but a larger part of her blamed him for making her a widow.
The train had started rolling again, and Maeve gave another wave and smile to Mercy. When her friend was out of sight, she turned back to Noah.
“Ready?” he asked. He didn't wait for a response, but started moving toward the steps that led down from the railroad platform.
Maeve gathered Violet closer and hurried to follow him.
Just then a young woman ran past them and into the arms of a man standing on the far side of the platform. His whoop of joy made it clear he'd been expecting her. He even took the woman in his arms and kissed her.
Violet stopped and stared at them. “Is she a bride, too?”
“I don't know,” Maeve said, her lips pressed together, wondering how she was going to explain to her daughter that not all marriages were filled with happiness.
She had tried to stop the conductor on the train from talking about how wonderful it was going to be when she and Mercy met their respective husbands-to-be. The conductor had even brought by sprigs of mistletoe for the two mail-order brides. He'd said the mistletoe was for their first kisses on Christmas Day with their new husbands.
Maeve looked at Noah out of the corner of her eyes. He didn't look as if a green sprig would tempt him to kiss anyone. His face was as foreboding as the storm clouds. He'd stomped down the wooden steps and stood on the snow-covered street, looking toward the west.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
If he was troubled about something, then she didn't want to approach him about the baby.
“Just that we're late,” he said as he turned to her. “The clouds coming in look worse. And now the clerk in the mercantile should be coming back from his noon meal and I don't see him.”
“Oh, well, that'sâ” Maeve stopped. He had a frown on his face, but he didn't appear overly angry. If she didn't tell him now, when would she?
She took a deep breath and glanced down because she couldn't bear to watch his eyes as she said what she had to say. “Maybe he has a baby at home and is taking a moment to rock the wee thing. The little ones can be sweet, don't you think? Makes us all wish we had one.”
She realized she had to see him to judge his reaction so she looked up at him.
“He's not married,” Noah responded as he stood there, his eyes bland as they watched hers curiously.
“Oh.” She looked at his eyes and waited a moment longer.
His green eyes didn't darken even with the clouds overhead. He showed no sudden spark of understanding.
Finally, his eyes broke away from hers.
“The clerk's life is his own that way,” Noah mused idly as he stared down the street again. “No one to answer to.”
He sounded as if he envied the man. Maeve didn't know what to say to that, but she apparently didn't need to say anything as her future husband continued on.
“Of course, he's not responsible for taking care of a bunkhouse of men so he might not understand how important it is for us to get our order in for supplies.”
“Working men need to eat,” Maeve agreed cautiously. Noah had been clear that he wanted a cook for a wife. She kept trying not to let that dismay her. Many marriages started out with less. She wished he had smiled at the thought of babies, though.
Noah gestured across the street to the general store. “We'll have to hurry. We don't have time to do much looking around. As it is, I'll have to ask the boy who works there to bring most of what we order out in his wagon after the storm. And the preacher will be at the church soon.”
With that, Noah turned and held out a hand to help her down the steps. Then he gestured as if to lift Violet down to the street, but Maeve said she'd do it. Once she had her daughter next to her, she pulled the girl close and faced them both in the right direction.
As they walked across the snow-covered street, Maeve convinced herself there was something reassuring about the man. He might not be friendly, but he was clearly used to taking care of others. Besides, his gruffness would likely go away when he got to know her and Violet better.
She hoped she was right as she pushed back her fears.
Maeve felt the wind stop again as Noah stepped up onto a wooden walk that was in front of the mercantile. He stomped the snow off his boots.
Frost outlined the window that looked into the establishment. Various items were right inside on a table. Maeve's breath caught when she saw a doll in a red dress lying near a flowered teapot.
Oh, no, Christmas Eve,
she thought. She'd almost forgotten the holiday and it was four days from now.
She had no money for presents, not even for Violet. The girl had wanted a doll like the one in the window ever since she'd been able to crawl. Months ago, Maeve had decided her daughter would finally have her wish this Christmas. Her husband had been making moneyâhe'd told her he'd gotten some work at the waterfrontâand Maeve had been putting in extra hours as a scrubwoman.