Winning The Mail-Order Bride

Hearing her sigh, Brett glanced her way. The full smile on her lips made his insides rise as gently as the sun just had.

“That was beautiful. Simply beautiful.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to look directly at him. “Thank you.”

In all his years he’d never suddenly been struck with a want so strongly, but right now he wanted to pull her into his arms to hug her. And kiss her.

Not sure how to make those desires disappear, he took a step back and glanced toward her house. After clearing the lump from his throat, he said, “Those boys of yours will be hungry again this morning. Boys always are. They’ll want to start exploring Oak Grove too.”

“How do you know so much about boys?”

“Because I was one,” he said. “And I had several brothers. Seven actually. Four older and three younger.”

“Your poor mother—she must have had her hands full.”

“She did, but she also had a broom and wasn’t afraid to use it on any one of us.” Memories of home made him smile. “I guarantee none of us wanted to make her mad enough to use it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

He couldn’t stop a short bout of laughter. “You’ve only heard a part of it. You see, if any one of us got Ma mad enough to use the broom, that meant Pa would use the belt on us for making Ma so mad.”

“Oh, my.”

“For the most part, she didn’t use that broom for nothing but sweeping up the mud we hauled in on our boots, and Pa didn’t use that belt for anything but holding up his britches.”

“Learned early, did you?”

He winked one eye. “About the same time I learned to walk.”

Her giggle was soft, but the sparkle in her eyes said he hadn’t imagined it. He nodded toward the house. “You got two good boys in there, ma’am. Plenty to be proud of. Polite and well behaved.”

She nodded and started walking toward the house. “Thank you. I sincerely hope they behaved yesterday, and I apologize again for their arriving so unannounced. For myself too.”

“I won’t accept any apologizing. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

They rounded the house and she held up her cup while stopping near the steps. “Thank you for the coffee and the sunrise. You’ve made my—our arrival something we’ll never forget.”

Sensing there was more behind her words, things he shouldn’t press her on, Brett gestured toward the basket on the back stoop. “I gotta go see to my horses, but if you need something to go along with those eggs, feel free to take what you need from my kitchen. The door’s open.”

“The eggs are more than enough, Mr. Blackwell, thank you.” She then glanced at her cup, which was still half-full.

“The pot’s on the stove,” he said while turning about. “Help yourself to more coffee if you want.” Although he knew she wouldn’t help herself to more coffee or anything else, he wished she would. His heart was lighter this morning than it had been in a long time. A very long time. Because of her.

As he walked past his house, he set his cup on the porch rail and then headed over to feed his horses. It was during that time, while forking hay into the corral, that he realized the mercantile wouldn’t be open today. Most every business in town observed the Sabbath. The town had passed a special ordinance for a few to be open, mainly Rollie Austin’s hotel and eatery.

Brett set the pitchfork aside and then walked around the lean-to that held his forge. Wally Brown, who oversaw the feed store for the most part while Brett saw to the blacksmithing, usually gave the horses their grain, but not on Sundays. Besides working for him, Wally worked for the livery. He had living quarters in the barn loft over there and kept an eye on things overnight.

Brett unlocked the front door and, once inside, walked directly to the window that faced his house, and Fiona’s a short distance farther away. He’d watched the sun rise with many people over the years. Family. Men he worked with at home and on the railroad. Friends while hunting. Companions while traveling. Yet never once had he appreciated sharing one more than he had with her this morning. It wasn’t just because he’d had someone standing beside him. It was because it had been Fiona. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.

If she was one of the women from Ohio the Betterment Committee had paid to come to Kansas, Fiona didn’t have to marry Josiah. She should have the opportunity to get to know all the men who’d contributed, including him.

Except he wasn’t in the running any longer, was he? Not if his mother sent him a bride. Maybe he should go see Teddy, have him send another telegram.

Turning away from the window, he crossed the space and sat down at his desk. His mother may not have gotten his first telegram yet. That was doubtful. One specifically for her would have been delivered minutes after it arrived.

There wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that, but he could talk to Josiah and find out exactly how Fiona had come to agree to marry him.

No longer caring if Josiah was up or not, Brett exited the building, locked the door and headed up the street.

A peaceful quiet filled the streets, and as he walked past, he noticed a sign in the hotel’s window that said the eatery was closed until after church this morning.

Josiah’s law office was two doors down from the hotel. Like many other business owners in town, Josiah lived in the quarters above his office. Even before he built his buildings, Brett had been thinking about the time when he’d have a family. Not wanting them to live above a feed store, he’d gone ahead and ordered enough lumber for a house as well as the feed store and blacksmith shop.

Brett walked past the law office door with Josiah’s name painted on it, turned the corner and then walked around to the back of the building, where he promptly knocked on the back door.

He knocked a second time before hearing movement inside the house, and then someone telling him to hold his horses.

It wasn’t his horses he was trying to hold on to. His temper was rising far quicker than normal.

Josiah pulled aside the curtain to peek through the glass before he opened the door. “What are you doing here at this time in the morning?” Josiah asked, pulling open the door.

“We need to talk,” Brett said, stepping over the threshold, forcing Josiah to step back in the process.

Straightening his vest, pulling it down over his thick waist once he’d caught his footing from jumping backward, Josiah asked, “About what?”

“Fiona Goldberg,” Brett said, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Josiah’s face and neck reddened. “Mrs. Goldberg and her sons aren’t any of your business.”

Fighting had never been Brett’s way. He always figured it wouldn’t be fair. He was much bigger and stronger than most men. However, using that size and strength for his own good, or the good of others, now and again didn’t bother him. He took a step closer and laid both hands on Josiah’s shoulders. Looking down upon the much shorter man, he said, “As I see it, she is my business. Any bride from Ohio is fair game to any one of us who donated to the committee.”

It was July, and the morning air was warming quickly, but not so much that sweat should be trickling down the mayor’s face. Josiah pulled out a kerchief and wiped his forehead. “Fi—Mrs. Goldberg is not one of the brides the committee ordered. She came upon hard times and contacted me personally, offering to be my bride. I agreed. Therefore, she is mine and mine alone.”

Brett wasn’t certain he believed Josiah, but he had no reason not to. Especially since just yesterday he’d taken it upon himself to order his own bride. Irritated by that as much as everything else, he said, “Seems to me you aren’t treating your wife-to-be very well. You left her and those little boys alone to fend for themselves last evening.”

“I promised her some time to get to know me,” Josiah said. “Something only a gentleman such as myself would know about.”

If there was any man in town who considered himself a gentleman, it was Josiah. Brett removed his hands and stepped back.

Josiah pocketed his kerchief. “I was just getting ready to walk over and check on them. See if they need anything.”

Torn as to how much he should and shouldn’t say about Fiona and her sons eating at his place last night, the air left Brett’s chest with a huff.

“There will be other brides arriving, soon, Brett,” Josiah said. “You’ll have a chance at one of them.”

Not wanting the mayor to know that wasn’t his greatest concern, Brett asked, “When?”

“I can’t say for sure, but my friend, who is the mayor in Bridgewater, Ohio, is gathering them up as we speak. He’ll notify me as soon as they are ready.”

“You’ve been saying that for a month,” Brett pointed out. “And for two months before that you promised there would be a dozen women.”