Winning The Deputy's Heart (Mail-Order Brides of Salvation 1) Read online

  For the first time it occurred to her that the extra space that the other mourners were giving her might be due to something other than respect for her grief.

  The hollow feeling that had settled inside Elizabeth at the news of Richard’s death began to fill with guilt. Had she been such a bad wife? She’d paid his debts and coddled him after late nights out. But the guilt was there, and it was real. Elizabeth hadn’t loved Richard as a wife should. If she had, she would have found a way to stop him.

  The night he’d hung himself, he’d been in one of his ominous moods. Normally, Elizabeth ignored these moods and let Richard work through them himself, but lately his gambling had begun to make her nervous. She resolved to try, for the first time, to get the better of his brooding. She’d prepared his favorite meal and opened a bottle of his favorite wine. And waited.

  Dinner was long cold when she’d heard galloping hooves coming down the drive and looked up expecting to see Richard on his horse. Instead, a young man adeptly brought his mare to a halt at the gate, jumped off her back and ran to the door yelling, “Ma’am! Ma’am, you must come, it’s Mr. Saunders!”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory. He hadn’t even the decency to come home and do the deed in the privacy of his study—he’d rented a room in a seedy tavern. She doubted he’d been trying to save her the horror of finding his body. More likely he’d been drinking there, and finally gotten up the courage to end his own life.

  If he’d been home, she would have had a chance at stopping him.

  Opening her eyes, she gazed at her late husband for the last time. Goodbye, Richard. I’m sorry I wasn’t the wife you wanted.

  As she turned away from the casket, Elizabeth felt a gentle touch on her arm. She glanced up to see her best friend Jane looking at her with warmth and deep concern. She took a deep breath and steadied herself on Jane’s outstretched arm. Jane led her outside to an awaiting carriage and helped her in. She struggled to put one foot in front of the other. What would she do now?

  “I’ll have to sell the house,” she said in a daze. “I’ll have to sell everything.”

  Jane patted her hand comfortingly. “You can think about it tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I knew that someday Richard’s drinking would do him in, but I had no idea I’d be a widow so soon. I’m not ready. I feel like our marriage barely got started.”

  “You made all the important decisions when Richard was alive. You’ll just keep doing that.”

  “I…I can’t help but feel…” The words seemed too terrible to say. But she couldn’t carry this guilt around with her for the rest of her life. “…it’s my fault he’s dead.”

  Jane shook her head vehemently. “Margaret will believe what she needs to believe to avoid her own guilt for the way her son turned out. That doesn’t make it true.”

  “She’ll make my life impossible. You saw the way everyone looked at me.”

  “That’s why you need a fresh start.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Jane sighed. “I’m going West.”

  What? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ve been corresponding with a rancher in Nevada and I’m going to marry him.” Jane finished her speech with a grin.

  Elizabeth was in shock. “To be a mail-order bride?”

  “To be a rancher’s wife. Think about it. Clean air, lots of space, and no one knows I’m the youngest daughter of a family that’s fallen on hard times. I can be whoever I want to be out there. So can you.”

  “By the time the creditors are done with Richard’s estate, I won’t have anything left but the clothes on my back.”

  “Just say yes.” Jane smiled. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  To travel out west with Elizabeth and find love and faith on the American frontier, order your copy of Winning the Rancher’s Heart!

  A Preview of Winning the Rancher’s Heart

  Mail-Order Brides of Salvation, Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Ow! Anne Schroeder rubbed the top of her head with one hand and grabbed the edge of her seat with the other as the hansom jostled down First Avenue. She tried not to think about how the ride would end. She owed it to Cynthia not to ruin her first day of nursing school by moping. But she couldn’t help feeling like she was losing her best friend.

  Cynthia laughed with excitement and put her arm around Anne’s shoulders. “Think on the bright side. If the cab turns over, we’re already headed to the hospital.”

  “I’ll be your first patient.” Anne forced a smile. “Here we come, Bellevue.”

  Cynthia sobered. “If only there’d been two scholarships—“

  “But there weren’t, and you won. You’re going to be the best nurse ever. I’m happy for you.” Anne tried to mean it. She loved Cynthia.

  But losing that scholarship had meant saying goodbye to her dream of becoming a nurse. She’d never save up enough for tuition on a tutor’s wages. No, she was doomed to spend the rest of her life watching over privileged brats like Master Arnold and Miss Geraldine. Unless she took matters into her own hands.

  “I’d always thought we’d be going together.” Cynthia hooked her arm through Anne’s. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “I’ll follow you. Next year.” She didn’t believe it, but she didn’t want Cynthia to feel guilty.

  “I’ll introduce you to all the handsome young doctors,” Cynthia promised. “No, even better, to all the rich, old ones. As a doctor’s wife, you’ll have no problem getting into the program.”

  That was Cynthia, always finding the silver lining. Her cheery disposition had made her the most popular girl at the orphanage where they’d both been raised. When other girls were adopted, Cynthia encouraged the rest to celebrate. When Headmistress Blevins doled out extra chores, Cynthia was the first to volunteer. And when Anne had set her sights on becoming a nurse, Cynthia had been the first to tell her she could do it.

  Anne patted her best friend’s hand. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ve been making other plans.”

  “Other plans?”

  Anne stared at the dirty, threadbare carpet beneath her feet. How was Cynthia going to take the news? Would she feel betrayed? Or would she try to be happy for Anne, just like Anne was trying to be happy for Cynthia?

  “Anne.” Her friend fixed her with a steely glare. “We’re almost there. Tell me.”

  “I’ve been corresponding with a man from Te—”

  “Anne Marie, no!” Cynthia’s hazel eyes went wide. “A mail-order bride? Moving halfway across the country? To live with a man you’ve never met?”

  “Kenneth is a good man. He’s been writing me for six months.”

  “You can’t tell if a man is good from a few letters.”

  “That’s exactly what he said. That’s why he sent me character references.”

  Cynthia’s eyebrows shot up. “Character references?”

  “One of them was from the minister of his church. Minister Rowland says—“

  “How do you know the letter was from a minister? Anyone could have written that so-called character reference.”

  Anne tugged on the hem of her bodice before turning to face her friend. “Cynthia, I have nothing.”

  “You have me.”

  For now. But… “Your life is going to change. I want a change too. Be happy for me.”

  “Happy—that you’re going to marry a man you barely know. A man you cannot possibly love.”

  “Happy that I’m going to have a family. Children of my own. If I can’t be a nurse, that’s what I want.”

  Cynthia sighed and dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief she pulled from her reticule. “Tell me about Kenneth.”

  “He’s a sheriff’s deputy. He’s been saving up for some land, wants to settle down.”

  “This is what you really want?”

  “I hear there’s a real need for doctors and nurses out West. Once you’re trained, you could come visit me.
Maybe you’d even like it enough to stay.”

  Cynthia half-laughed, half-sobbed. “You know how I freckle.”

  “I’ll lend you my parasol.” Anne hugged her best friend.

  “Aren’t you frightened?” Cynthia asked once she had her tears under control.

  “Of course I am. But I’m more frightened of what my life will become if I stay here.”

  “He proposed?”

  “Not yet.” It was much too early for that, Anne was sure. “But…I think he might be falling for me.”

  Anne wasn’t a foolish child, to dream of love at first sight. But if Kenneth was as respectful and kind as he seemed in his letters, she had no doubt the affection she felt for him would mature into the kind of warm regard that might support a marriage.

  Of course, he might turn out to be horrible. Then she’d be stranded in a strange place, no friends to turn to, completely dependent on her new husband.

  The cab jolted to a stop in front of Bellevue Hospital. The driver rapped sharply on the roof. “Fare, ladies.”

  Cynthia hugged Anne fiercely. “Swear you won’t leave without telling me.”

  Anne laughed and hugged her friend back. “You’re going to be late for your first day of class.”

  She watched as Cynthia paid the driver, then passed through the open wrought-iron gate in her white apron and nurse’s cap. That should have been me.

  She shook her head to chase out the envious thought and began walking toward the brick-and-limestone mansion where her charges lived. A white-clad street-sweeper stopped and tipped his hat at her as she scooted around the pile of debris he’d been collecting. Only last year and the sidewalks been laid down, and they’d saved her several months’ wages—since she was no longer traipsing through mud (and worse), her skirts and boots lasted longer. The Mayor claimed every street in the city would have sidewalks within the next few years.

  The closer she got to Buckley House, the slower her feet wanted to move. Every workday was a trial. Three days ago, young Master Arnold had put a cricket in her soup when she wasn’t looking. Little Miss Geraldine threw a squall whenever it was time for lessons, regardless of the subject. When she’d described the children’s behavior to their parents, they’d told Anne sternly that it was her job to teach the children how to behave.

  An impossible job, when their parents indulged every whim and instructed staff to do the same. By the end of each work day, she wanted nothing more than to run home and pull the covers over her head.

  Even if Kenneth had been false to her in his letters, marrying him couldn’t be worse than tutoring Master Arnold and Miss Geraldine. Could it?

  Church bells echoed in the distance. Late! Anne gathered up her skirts and hurried down the path to the servant’s door at the rear of the east wing of Buckley House. The heavy, plain wood door scraped across the threshold as she yanked it open. Like most of New York’s wealthy, the Buckley’s saved the marble columns and curlicued masonry for the front of their home.

  Evans, the butler, stood waiting in the cramped, dimly-lit entryway that led to the kitchen on one side and quarters for house staff on the other. What was he doing here? Had he come to chide her for being late? He never had before. Perhaps he was waiting to oversee a delivery.

  “Morning, Evans,” Anne said as she tugged at her bonnet strings, loosening the knot that dug into the underside of her chin. “Are the little Master and Mistress well today?”

  Evans gave her a sad smile and held out an envelope. “I regret to inform you that you’ve been let go.”

  Let go? Tears swam in Anne’s eyes. They should have been tears of shock, but all she felt was bone-deep relief. As if she’d been in prison these last three years and had unexpectedly earned parole.

  No, she needed this job. She had no family to fall back on, and twenty-two was too old to go back to the orphanage.

  She raised her chin and squared her shoulders as she accepted the envelope, gave Evans a watery smile. “May I ask why?”

  Evans glanced over his shoulder before answering. “Little Master’s done his usual. Hit himself with one of cook’s wooden spoons, then showed the bruise to Lady Buckley and claimed you beat him for answering wrong at lessons.”

  “I would never!” But she had no doubt that spoiled child Arnold would accuse her. “I must explain—“

  “It won’t do any good. You’re the eleventh tutor to suffer this fate. Lady Buckley dotes on her son. Best to take your pay and find another position as quickly as possible.”

  Anne quickly examined the contents of the envelope—it contained only a few days’ pay. What would she do? She’d barely enough here to pay what she owed for her bed in the shabby room she shared with three other girls this week.

  Worse, Lady Buckley had given her no reference. What employer would be willing to take her on without a letter of reference?

  Her stomach clenched with fear. She’d be out on the street in a few days. The things that happened to girls on the street…

  Evans looked over his shoulder again, then produced a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “This agency specializes in finding employment for staff without references. Won’t pay as much, of course, tutoring’s not an option, but you’re young and strong. You’ll make a fine maid.”

  A maid. Not only had she lost her chance at the education she’d dreamed of, now she wouldn’t even be able to use what little knowledge she had to educate others.

  Her dismay must have shown on her face, because Evans patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Now, now, it’s honest work. And if you do well at your next position, you might gain a reference there.”

  “Thank you, Evans.” Dazed, she tucked the paper into her threadbare reticule, along with her meagre earnings.

  Behind Evans, the kitchen door opened slowly. Little Master Arnold peeked around the corner, a smirk distorting his chubby red face. Deliberately waiting until he’d caught her eye, he stuck his tongue out at her.

  Little Master. He was a little monster. And she’d never have to see him again.

  She straightened, as if she were a lady herself, and walked out through the servants’ door with all the dignity she could muster.

  It wasn’t until she made it back to the grubby boardinghouse room she called home that she let herself think about what to do next.

  Removing her overcoat, she sat on her creaky cot and examined the paper Evans had handed her. A name and an address on the other side of town. She’d have to spend a good chunk of the severance pay she’d just received to get there and back for an interview.

  Was it worth even going? To be a maid? Spending her days emptying chamber pots and scrubbing dishes. Honest work, like Evans said, but also dreary, poorly-paid work. She’d be paid in room and board, with a pittance to cover her personal expenses. She could work the rest of her life and not save enough for nursing school tuition.

  What other choice did she have?

  The door to her room opened, letting in the stench of cabbage and cheap beef. Mrs. McDermott, the widow who operated the boardinghouse, scowled at Anne.

  “You’re supposed to be at work. Can’t pay rent if you don’t work, girl.”

  “The children were ill, so my employer gave me the day off.” Anne had no doubt that if she confessed that she’d been let go, Mrs. McDermott would start looking for another girl to fill Anne’s bed. “I thought I’d rest a little.”

  Mrs. McDermott pursed her lips disapprovingly, but handed Anne a letter. “Your uncle out west must have a great deal of free time, to write you so often.”

  Anne blushed and forced herself to move slowly, when she wanted to snatch the letter out of Mrs. McDermott’s hand. The landlady was quite strict about the “moral character” of her tenants, and had been outspokenly contemptuous of young women who submitted their photos to the increasingly-popular mail-order bride catalogues in hopes of finding a husband.

  Anne disliked lying, but telling the woman that Kenneth was a distant uncle who’d moved to Texas se
emed a better choice than being evicted with barely a penny to her name.

  “I’m feeling a little ill myself. I hope I haven’t caught a fever from the children—”

  Mrs. McDermott retreated quickly, slamming the door behind her. Anne sighed. Finally, a moment of peace.

  Hands shaking, she tore open the envelope. Inside she found a thin piece of paper, folded into thirds. As she unfolded it, a second, thicker piece of paper fell out.

  A train ticket. To Salvation, Texas. Departing the day after tomorrow.

  My dearest Anne,

  My brother Daniel tells me that I am being overhasty, but I can wait no longer. Will you be my wife?

  Fondest wishes,

  Kenneth

  P.S. He tells me that I am overconfident as well, sending this ticket without hearing your reply first, but I believe I have come to know your heart these past months.

  All the air rushed out of Anne’s lungs at once. Was Kenneth’s letter the answer to her prayers? Or would she be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? If he’d proposed yesterday, while she still had a job, she’d know if this fluttering in her belly was a sign that she should accept—but now, she had to wonder if it was simply relief that he was offering her a way out of this mess.

  She clasped her hands and prayed as hard as she could. She prayed until her fingers ached.

  Should I go to Salvation?

  Should I marry Kenneth?

  But no answer came.

  Maybe this was a test. Maybe she was supposed to trust that the Lord had brought her Kenneth because that was the path He wanted her to tread.

  Deep in her heart, she wanted it to be true. Could her heart be trusted?

  To join Anne on her journey to find love and faith on the western frontier, order your copy of Winning the Doctor’s Heart!