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

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Christmas Stars for Dry Creek

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

Epigraph (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides (#u0cab3a80-8210-57f0-a7cf-28bbeebcfc43)

Christmas Hearts

Jillian Hart

Mistletoe Kiss In Dry Creek

Janet Tronstad

Christmas Hearts (#u0cab3a80-8210-57f0-a7cf-28bbeebcfc43)

Jillian Hart

To Jenny Blake, from Janet and Jillian. Meeting you face-to-face in Spokane last May after being online friends for so many years was a true blessing. You are a great friend, Jenny. You have been an inspiration and encouragement to both of us. We love you. Blessings always.

For You shall enlarge my heart.

—Psalms 119:32

Chapter One (#ulink_d97b2f96-5f5d-5fac-b719-bc41ba7032ee)

Montana TerritoryDecember 20, 1886

The steel clickety-clack of the rails slowed as the town of Miles City came into sight. Mercy Jacobs felt her heart catch. Being a mail-order bride was nerve-racking. With every mile and every stop on the route, her new home of Angel Falls came closer and closer.

And so did the reality of meeting the stranger she’d agreed to marry.

“Ma?” Her seven-year-old son fidgeted on the seat beside her, straining to see above the lip of the windowsill to get a better view of the approaching town. “Will Angel Falls be like this one?”

“I don’t know, George. Maybe.” She smiled past her nervousness. Cole Matheson, the man whose advertisement she’d answered, had written of a friendly railroad town lined with shops, one of which was his own.

“Will it be snowy, too?” Those wide baby-blue eyes filled with a child’s hope.

“I reckon so, as your new pa said in his last letter to bundle up, that our first Christmas in Montana Territory was guaranteed to be white.”

“Boy, I sure do wanna go out and play in that.” George sighed wistfully. As the train chugged a little slower, the view of snowy fields, rolling hills and the snow-mantled roofs of homes clustered along the outskirts of town became crisp, no longer blurred. Easy to soak in and dream a little. George let out a sigh of longing that fogged part of the window. He swiped it away with one hand and watched two children building a snowman in their backyard.

Snow had been hard to come by at their home in North Carolina.

“Miles City, next stop!” The conductor’s voice carried above the conversations of passengers in the crowded car, packed with folks traveling to be with family for the holiday.

“Well, that’s me.” Maeve Flanagan turned around in her seat to smile back at Mercy. The small child seated beside her peered out the window, too. “This is as far as we go.”

“Are you nervous? You look nervous. Why, you’re absolutely pale.” Mercy leaned forward and caught her new friend’s hand. They’d met back East when Maeve had boarded the train, a mail-order bride, too. “Take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine. It’s merely last-minute butterflies.” Maeve smiled gently. She was truly striking at nearly six feet tall with beautiful red hair and blue-green eyes. “This is what I’ve been waiting for this entire journey. Meeting Mr. Noah Miller.”

“He’ll be everything you’ve been hoping for, I just know it.” Mercy gave Maeve’s gloved had a squeeze of encouragement. “Our prayers will be answered.”

“We’ve prayed so often on this trip, surely the Good Lord has heard us.” Maeve paused as the train’s brakes squealed, making conversation difficult.

The train jerked to a stop, bouncing them in their seats. With the final jerk, all motion ceased. Her time with Maeve had come to an end, but she knew regardless of where their separate paths led them, they would always be friends. Some journeys bound hearts together, and this was one of them.

“Why, it’s my two mail-order brides.” The conductor, kindly Mr. Blake, paused in the aisle with a sympathetic smile on his round face. He might be a big man and built like on ox, but his heart was bigger. “I’ve been praying for you lovely ladies. Think of the happiness awaiting you. Why, I can’t imagine a thing more romantic. It’s almost like a story, first declaring love with each other through your letters and then finding a deeper love when you meet. It must be all poetry and declarations of the heart, like a fairy tale happening just to you. Not only am I a happily married man, so I know what’s waiting for you, but it’s the Christmas season. Love and happy endings are in the air.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Maeve said gently, as if she wasn’t so sure.

Mercy was even less sure. Love was not the reason she had traveled across the country to wed a stranger. She managed a weak smile.