Winning The Mail-Order Bride

“There will be. This sort of thing takes time.”

Brett let the frustration inside him ease out on a long breath. “Folks are getting tired of waiting.”

“I know,” Josiah said, “and I’m working on bringing in all twelve brides as promised. Now, I really must head over to see Fiona before church this morning.” He took a couple steps sideways and pulled open the door.

With little else he could say or do, Brett nodded and left.

Chapter Four (#uccfdf28a-49ae-5942-bf78-94e4d4144b80)

If she’d been mad before, this morning Fiona was furious. She and the boys were fully prepared to attend services, had already started walking toward town, figuring they’d easily find the church, when Josiah had stopped them. Not only stopped them, but forbade them from attending this morning. Said he wasn’t prepared to introduce her to the town yet.

“They don’t want us here any more than the folks back in Ohio,” Wyatt said, looking out the window.

Keeping her fury to herself, Fiona hooked her apron over her head and then tied it in place behind her back. “As long as we are friendly and honest, people will like us.”

“No, they won’t,” Wyatt disagreed.

Convincing him could prove impossible, so she changed the subject. “You two go change out of those clothes. No sense getting them dirty.”

“Can we go visit Brett, then?” Rhett asked.

“No—”

“Can’t,” Wyatt interrupted. “He ain’t home.”

“How do you know that?” Rhett asked.

Turning from the window, Wyatt said, “I saw him leave a long time ago and he hasn’t come back.” Glancing at her as he walked toward the bedroom they’d all shared last night, he added, “Bet that mayor told Brett not to like us.”

“He did not,” Rhett declared. “Did he, Ma?”

“Of course not.” Convincing herself about anything when it came to Brett would take far more than a few words. He seemed to have taken permanent residency in her mind. Watching the sunrise with him this morning had been utterly amazing. They’d barely spoken, yet she’d felt his presence, much like last night while washing dishes. This morning it had been more than a presence. His silent companionship had told her she wasn’t alone in a way she’d never experienced before. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she gestured to both boys. “Go change like I told you.”

Not done with his nastiness, Wyatt settled a glare on her from the bedroom door. “Don’t know why you put an apron on, there ain’t no stove to cook on. Ain’t no food to cook either.”

There was no stove or food—she’d built a small fire outside earlier to cook the eggs Brett had given them—but it was Wyatt’s attitude she had to address. “Rhett, go change your clothes.” As her younger son walked into the other room, she took Wyatt by the arm. “I understand this situation is very difficult for you. It is for me too. But no matter how hard it is for any of us, I will not tolerate rudeness. Not toward me, your brother or anyone else. Do you understand?”

Young enough so that a good scolding usually worked, Wyatt nodded. An inkling of dread entered Fiona at the defiance still living in his eyes. A scolding soon wouldn’t work. Not with the load of anger harboring inside him. She had no idea what to do about that. How to help him get past it.

“This can be a good life for us, Wyatt. I sincerely believe that, but we’ll have to work on it. And it may not be easy. Especially not at first.”

“Life could have been good for us back in Ohio too,” he said.

Not wanting him to know just how impossible that would have been, she said, “It could have been, but I thought we needed a new start. Try out a new place with new people.”

“Where people don’t know our pa died while robbing a train,” he said softly, solemnly.

If her heart had been whole, it would have broken in two right then. As it was, the few pieces of her heart that remained intact crumbled a bit more. She couldn’t deny what Sam had done, nor justify it. “He wasn’t thinking right, honey.”

“Why’d he have to start drinking, Ma? That’s when he got mad at everyone.”

Wyatt was only seven, yet it was amazing just how intelligent he was, and how much he remembered. She’d tried to hide Sam’s drinking from him as much as she’d tried to hide everything else but had failed there too.

“I don’t know, Wyatt. I honestly don’t know.”

“Hey, Ma?” Rhett asked, coming out of the bedroom. “Could we go fishing? Catch us some fish like Brett did. Those sure were good last night.”

“We don’t even have a fishing pole, dum—”

Wyatt stopped when she gently squeezed his arm.

“Those certainly were good fish we ate with Mr. Blackwell last night,” she said, using the moment to bring up another subject. “You boys mustn’t call him by his first name. He is Mr. Blackwell.”

With a nod, Rhett said, “Maybe Mr. Blackwell will let us use his fishing pole.”

“And please don’t bother him,” she said. “He is a busy man.”

“We won’t bother him, just ask to use his pole,” Rhett said.

She shook her head. “That would be bothering him. Perhaps he wants to go fishing himself today.”

“Maybe he’d take us with him!”

Rhett’s entire face had lit up, and it hurt to squelch his excitement. “I’m sure Mr. Blackwell is far too busy for that.” Other than the small bed, the house held no furniture, so she sat down on the top of one of the three trunks they’d brought with them from Ohio. “But Mr. Melbourne said he’ll be back after church.” Expecting Wyatt to reply, she gave him a warning look before saying, “Perhaps he has something fun planned for all of us.”

“Like what?” Rhett asked.

“I’m not sure.” Hoping Josiah would consider their needs, she said, “A picnic maybe?”

“Ya think?” Rhett asked.

She shrugged but included a smile to keep his hopes up. All of their hopes up. Yesterday Josiah had said he was going to let others know at church this morning that she had arrived in town. She’d assumed that meant they were to attend church with him, but this morning, when he’d told them to remain at the house, he’d said he would plan a time for her to meet the townspeople. He hadn’t mentioned the boys, but surely he must plan on introducing them all at the same time.

“Do you think there will be fried chicken?” Rhett asked, licking his lips.

Guilt at getting his hopes too high struck her. “I truly have no idea.” Standing, she said, “This morning I had to gather dried grass to fry the eggs, so in case Mr. Melbourne brings something I need to cook, let’s go gather some more. I’ll show you how to twist it tight so it’ll burn longer.”

“How do people live without wood to burn out here?” Wyatt asked as they all walked to the door.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. The only reason she knew about twisting grass was from a woman back in Ohio whose sister had gone west on a wagon train and wrote her about such things.

“Bre—Mr. Blackwell has a bunch of wood stacked over at his place,” Wyatt said. “And another pile by his blacksmith shop. Maybe he can tell us where he got it.”

“I’m sure Mr. Melbourne will be able to answer all your questions,” Fiona said. “Just so long as you don’t make a nuisance of yourself by asking too many at once.”

* * *

The new preacher, Connor Flaherty, the same one who’d performed the weddings yesterday, was almost as long-winded as the mayor, Brett considered, but the preacher’s words about the ten commandments were worth listening to. A reminder of those was always good for the soul.