Winning The Blacksmith's Heart (Mail-Order Brides of Salvation 5) Read online

  MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF SALVATION

  Winning the

  Blacksmith’s

  Heart

  Faith Parsons

  Winning the Blacksmith’s Heart, by Faith Parsons

  Copyright 2015 - First electronic publication, November 2015

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distribute via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author's permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely incidental.

  A MAN STRUGGLING TO SURVIVE

  The last thing blacksmith Walter Jonas wants is to follow in his father’s footsteps. Master of a dying art, he’s struggling to find his place in a world dominated by factory-produced goods brought to Texas by train.

  If he can’t find a way to compete with the big companies back East, he’ll lose everything: his home, his forge, and his marriage.

  A WOMAN IN SEARCH OF A FAMILY

  Ida Cleary grew up in an orphanage, but that didn’t stop her from making a life for herself: she’s been supporting herself by working in a garment factory since she was sixteen.

  But at twenty-five, she feels like she’s sewing her way into spinsterhood. Her only chance at marrying is to become a mail-order bride.

  A CHRISTMAS IN NEED OF A MIRACLE

  When Ida arrives in Salvation to marry Walter, she learns that his situation is more serious than he let on. She vows she won’t raise her own children in poverty, or worse, allow them to be raised in an orphanage like she was.

  As Christmas approaches, will Walter’s skills and Ida’s tenacity be enough to keep them from being tossed out into the cold?

  Winning the Blacksmith’s Heart is a sweet inspirational mail order bride romance. While this book is part of a series, it can definitely be read as a standalone book.

  In Faith Parson’s heartwarming clean romance stories, courageous men and their mail-order brides join together to make a new life on the Western frontier.

  MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF SALVATION

  Book 1 - Winning the Deputy's Heart

  Book 2 - Winning the Rancher's Heart

  Book 3 - Winning the Doctor’s Heart

  Book 4 - Winning the Bounty Hunter’s Heart

  Book 5 - Winning the Blacksmith’s Heart

  Book 6 - Winning Homesteader’s Heart (coming in January 2016)

  MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF RESURRECTION

  Seven Brides for Seven Lawmen

  Book 1 - Samuel’s Secret

  Book 2 - Ethan’s Duty (coming in January 2016)

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  Chapter One

  Ida closed her eyes and pictured the main street of Salvation, Texas as her fiancé had described it in his letters. The buildings were shorter than here in Boston, he’d said, only one or two stories tall, and made of wood or brick. Not everyone could afford horse-drawn buggies, so mules pulled wagons down the dusty main street. Imagine the sky a bright blue, he’d said, with wispy white clouds glowing as they caught the sun’s light.

  She could hardly wait to see it. But even more, she could hardly wait to see Walter.

  “Keep up the pace, ladies.” Foreman Hill’s voice cut through the din of forty-three sewing machines humming along. “Only half an hour left to hit your quota.”

  Ida untangled the thread that jammed the bobbin of her sewing machine, ignoring the ache at the back of her neck and the tightness in her shoulders. Sewing all day was grueling work, but she was grateful for the job. When she’d reached the age where the orphanage would no longer allow her to stay, she’d been lucky enough to get a job here. First, carrying materials from one station to the next, then ripping out crooked seams so they could be re-sewn, and later learning to sew straight seams on the machine herself. She was proud that she could now work any station in the factory, even the most difficult, like the men’s collars. Foreman Hill frequently asked her to fill in when another girl was sick or quit unexpectedly. And he paid her an extra five cents for that shift.

  She’d been saving all those extra cents for a rainy day. Good thing too. She was going to need it for her train ticket.

  “Pssst—did you get another letter from your blacksmith?” Joanne, on Ida’s right, gestured for today’s seam-ripper to come take the sleeve she had been working on. Then she grabbed another sleeve and cuff from the piles beside her. “I can’t believe you’re really looking for a husband through the mail.”

  “Well, Foreman Hill forgot to ask me to marry him.” Ida hid a smile at Joanne’s quiet giggle. She joked, but the idea of sewing her way into spinsterhood didn’t sit right with her. She had no parents to make a match for her, no dowry to attract a husband. If she didn’t find a man for herself, she was never going to have the family she longed for.

  In his first letter, Walter had said that he was looking for a woman who was no stranger to hard work. He came across as a practical, down-to-earth man living a simple life that he wanted to share. He hadn’t been put off by the fact that Ida was an orphan. Or that she was already twenty-five.

  When she’d received his proposal the night before, after four months of corresponding, she’d never been so happy.

  She bit back a happy sigh and forced herself to focus on the next cuff she was to assemble.

  “Mooning over your man in Texas?” asked Helen, leaning over as if to check Ida’s work. Helen never missed an opportunity to needle her. “If he can’t find a woman there, he’s probably ugly as sin. Or worse.”

  “That’s what I love about you, Helen.” Ida adjusted the cuff so she could tackle another seam. “You can always find the dark cloud around the silver lining.”

  “At least I’m engaged. To someone I’ve met,” Helen snapped. “I know exactly what I’m getting.”

  But does he? Ida drew in a slow breath to the count of four. There was no point in antagonizing Helen. Helen worked hard to feed three younger brothers and had to hide her wages to keep her father from spending everything she earned on whiskey. Everyone in the factory had suffered Helen’s anger at some point.

  Ida used to despair that she was an orphan. But after meeting Helen, she’d realized that having a family didn’t guarantee one a perfect life. So she tried to forgive Helen’s cattiness.

  But the smirk on Helen’s face rankled. And Ida wouldn’t have to put up with it much longer. “Walter’s asked me to marry him.”

  Helen’s mouth had formed a perfect O of surprise. Then her mouth snapped shut and she resumed sewing, pushing fabric through the machine so fast that it jammed.

  Ida glanced at Joanne, expecting to share a smile. But Joanne frowned instead.

  “What if he’s…not like he seems?” Joanne looked genuinely worried for Ida. “He could drink. He could beat you. At least here you have a job.”

  “He’s a good man,” Ida insisted.

  “You can’t tell that from a letter,” Helen said archly. “No matter what a man says, there’s always an ugly truth behind it.”

  Ida bit her lip and tr
ied to ignore Helen’s words. Helen suffered for her father’s drunkenness. Not all men were like that. Walter wasn’t like that.

  She would be able to tell if he was lying to her, wouldn’t she?

  Joanne adjusted the sleeve that she’d just pinned to one of Ida’s cuffs, then inserted it into her own machine. “At least you know that you can always come back here. Foreman Hill will probably hire you back.”

  “I bet she’ll be back in six months,” Helen muttered.

  Ida squashed her doubts down. She’d considered all these possibilities a thousand times since she’d received Walter’s first letter. Yes, she had doubts. But she refused to let doubt control her life.

  I can do all things through Christ which strengthenethme, she reminded herself, drawing comfort from the familiar phrase. It had been one of the first Bible verses she learned at the orphanage.

  “Have you seen a picture of him?” Joanne asked.

  Ida shook her head. Walter was a churchgoing man. He seemed to want children as much as she did. He never complained in his letters. Never gossiped. Never said anything unkind. It didn’t matter to Ida what he looked like on the outside. As long as he was as good on the inside as he seemed in his letters.

  She did her best to focus on the collar of the shirt she was making, pretending she couldn’t hear Helen’s derisive comments as she spread the word among the other girls about Ida’s fiancé. Most had learned to ignore Helen’s constant gossip, but a few of the others shot Ida resentful looks. Especially Helen’s number one ally, Elizabeth.

  “She thinks she’s found her prince,” Elizabeth twittered. “She’s going to be back here in no time, regretting that she ever put on airs around us.”

  Ida bit her tongue against the desire to point out that perhaps that attitude was why the Lord hadn’t blessed Elizabeth with a prince of her own.

  The end of their shift finally came, and it was all Ida could do not to run for the door. Only fifteen more hours before she got on the train to Salvation. Only two more days after that before she arrived in Salvation. But first she had to submit her resignation to Foreman Hill and pick up the monies owed her.

  When she reached the head of the line, she handed over the garments she’d finished for the day. Foreman Hill marked the tally in his log, eyeing the whispering crowd around her.

  “I bet she’s not getting married,” Helen stage-whispered from farther back in line. “She’s another Lacey O’Connor.”

  Several of the girls tittered. Ida’s cheeks heated. She wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, but the implication was humiliating. Lacey had disgraced herself via a lover’s tryst that had left her with child. The lover had disavowed Lacey, who’d died of overwork trying to put on her table for her baby, leaving her only child to be raised in an orphanage.

  Sometimes Ida wondered if her own mother had suffered a similar fate.

  Another titter echoed through the factory. Ida kept her chin high, resisting the temptation to loose her temper on those around her. She’d done nothing wrong, and she didn’t care what they thought. She’d never see any of these women again after today.

  Hill scowled at her, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you still here?”

  She handed him the letter she’d carried with her all day in readiness for this moment.

  “My resignation, sir.” Relief warred with pride that she’d managed to keep the words calm. “I’ll be picking up my pay on my way out.”

  “And you think some other factory will treat you better than what you have here?” Hilldemanded. “You think you can get better pay or a better lifeanywhereelse?”

  “I’m engaged to be married, sir.”

  Hill scoffed. “When you come crawling back in eight months, I’ll only pay you half of what you’re making now.”

  She understood his assumption that she was with child. He’d probably seen it with other girls besides Lacey. She still couldn’t help resenting him for it.

  She pivoted on her heel and left, walking faster than was polite but still slower than her body wanted to move. The only thing that kept her from running out of the crowded factory was the knowledge that it would look like she was fleeing in humiliation.

  She refused to give them the satisfaction.

  After picking up her earnings, Ida stepped out of the overwarm factory into the cool evening air, crisp with promise of the coming winter. Her hands flew to her still-hot cheeks. What if the other women were right? What if Walter wasn’t what he seemed?

  Maybe being a mail-order bride wasn’t the same as falling in love with a man she knew. But she would be a good wife to him, a good mother to his children. Maybe they would never love each other, but at least they would have a common bond over their shared love of the little ones. If he was as kind and imaginative as he seemed in his letters, they would at least have each other’s respect.

  “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” she murmured. God would work things out, even if not with Walter. He’d open a door somewhere. She just needed to have faith.

  Ida drew another bracing breath and started for home. This was the last time she’d walk down this street, she mused. As she made her way through the city, she felt little pangs of loss. She’d never again buy bread from Mrs. King at the bakery on the corner. Or gulp down a cup of Mr. Mulready’s hot bean soup on her lunch break. Everything in Texas would be different. She was starting over again. Just like when she’d left the orphanage.

  She squared her shoulders. She’d done it before and she could do it again.

  “Ida!”

  Joanne. The other girl picked up her skirts and ran to catch up with Ida.

  “Don’t listen to Helen,” Joanne panted. “Or Foreman Hill. He had no right to say those things.”

  “I don’t care. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “It seems so risky.” Joanne gave a rueful smile. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  No,Ida thought, and then she realized...maybe Joanne had a reason for asking her. Maybe Joanne was contemplating a fresh start too, and was looking for reassurance. Or encouragement.

  “Of course I’m not completely sure,” Ida admitted. “But God has opened this door. I have to trust Him enough to walk through it.”

  Worry still pinched Joanne’s expression, but something in her eyes made Ida think that this was what Joanne was hoping to hear. “Thank you.”

  Ida gripped her by the arm. “No, thankyou. For being my friend these past six years.”

  “Will you write me? I’ll fret until I know for certain that you’re safe.”

  Ida hugged Joanne. “Yes. And once I’m settled, you can come out to visit. Maybe we can find you a husband too.”

  Chapter Two

  Ida was still thinking about the hope in Joanne’s eyes two days later when her train stopped at the platform in Salvation, Texas.

  As she clutched her valise and hurried out of the train car, the chilly nip in the morning air surprised her. She’d been expecting heat. And the humidity that East Texas was famous for. The sky overhead was clear—it seemed bluer than the sky back home. Maybe that was just because she was happy to have finally arrived. She definitely didn’t miss the rainy, mucky Boston weather they’d been having when she’d gotten on the train.

  But where was Walter? Had he seen her disembark from the train and changed his mind?

  Don’t be silly, she told herself. He’s probably just a little late.

  Maybe his carriage broke down. Not carriage, mule wagon. And there were no hansoms here, he’d told her. Everyone got around on horseback or in wagons and buggies, if they had to go farther than they could walk.

  But Ida’s stomach fluttered as she watched locals climb the steps of the station platform to meet loved ones. No one approached her.

  She fiddled with her bags, not wanting to look anxious when he did arrive. She had no picture of him, and she didn’t mind that—the person he’d seemed to be in his letters had nothing to do wi
th his looks. But it also meant she couldn't tell if he might be one of the men moving up and down the nearby street.

  A shadow fell over her, blocking what little warmth the morning sun was bringing. She shivered. The shadow fell back a step, and the sun’s weak warmth returned.

  A considerate shadow.

  Ida peeked up—and blinked at the largest man she’d ever seen. Red-haired, freckled, and heavily-muscled, with strong features and kind eyes. His clothes were worn but sturdy looking. The only thing odd about him—he held his chin down and tilted a little, as if he were a touch lopsided.

  Or, she realized, as if he were trying to hide the scar that ran up his neck to one side of his jaw.

  Her nerves settled as she realized he was probably worried thatshe’d dislikehim. She gave him her brightest smile. “Walter Jonas?”

  He nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Cleary.”

  “Not Cleary for much longer.”

  He blinked at her.

  She bit the inside of her lower lip. Was that too forward?

  He blushed and held out a hand—no, offered her something. Ida shielded her eyes against the light to get a better look.

  “Oh!” Her letters to him, all bundled up neatly. Evidence that he was the man that she’d been writing to. How considerate. He was trying to put her at ease.

  She nodded. “Thank you, Walter.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Cleary.”

  “If I’m to call you Walter, you should call me Ida.”

  He hesitated. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sucked in a breath, like he was getting ready to say something difficult. For a heart-wrenching moment, she feared he was going to tell her to get back on the train before it left.

  “The minister is waiting for us,” he said instead.